#~i have to sit down and work on the muse pages a bit either this weekend or after work this week

[feraecor]

i paused the queue for a few days so that i could fill it a bit but of course not with replies cause that would mean i was productive

[hayakawalove]

Wanna Make a Bet?

A/N: N/A

Summary: With your two boyfriends, life was never boring. A bet is made to see who can last the longest without sex.

TW: Teasing, spit play, polyamory, gojos a shit, cunnilingus, anal sex, fem reader, AFAB reader W/C: 4,170

It was hazy how all of this started, really. You were sure Satoru was the one who came up with the idea. It certainly wasn’t you, and it wouldn’t have been Suguru. 

The three of you sat in the bedroom, mindlessly doing your own things. You lay in between Suguru’s legs, head resting on his lower stomach. Your knees were propped up, giving Satoru a nice plush pillow to rest against. Suguru was reading while you played on your phone. You weren’t sure what Satoru was doing, but then again you never knew what he was up to. 

A video played on your phone and you were half paying attention. All of a sudden you felt a soft bite against your thigh. You peered around your phone to look at Satoru. His face was turned over as he bit into your skin, a low groan leaving his lips. 

“Satoru, really? We were having a nice moment.” You murmured. 

“This is a nice moment too, isn’t it?” He responded cooly, inching closer to the area between your legs with his mouth. 

You dropped your phone against your stomach and ran your fingers through his fluffy hair. It was nice laying down with both of them. It was often hard to get all of you alone at the same time. 

“You’re just always horny.” Suguru mused, turning the page. 

“Am not!” Satoru quickly retaliated, his words being muffled by your skin. 

“Are too. Probably couldn’t last a week without sex.” You said. 

“Okay, that’s dramatic. I could last a week.” He exclaimed.

You tilted your head back to look at Suguru. He met your eyes with a soft grin. Neither of you believed the blue eyed menace. 

“Don’t do that! Come on guys, believe me!”

You hummed at Satoru, plucking Suguru’s book from his hands, sliding his bookmark in it. 

“Fine. Wanna play a game? Let’s see who can last a week without sex, and the winner gets whatever they want from the losers. If two people give in and initiate it then they both lose, but if one person gives in to initiate it then they lose.” Satoru announced. 

You and Suguru agreed half heartedly, knowing Gojo wasn’t gonna last. 

And that’s how you ended up starting the bet. It had been several days, and honestly it was torture. You knew Satoru was gonna tease you, he’s always been that way. 

It seemed his favorite tactic was to walk around the house without a shirt on just to tease you. It honestly didn’t get to you too much, not at first at least. But one night in particular made you almost give in. Satoru had come home after working out and pulled his shirt off in the living room. His skin was flushed pink from exertion and you could hear him softly pant. He had to grab your chin in order to get your attention back to what he was saying. 

“Gonna give in bunny?” He taunted. 

You smacked his hand away and sighed. That was that. You weren’t going to give in so easy. You could almost taste victory. 

You expected Satoru to tease you, you really did. What you didn’t expect was for Suguru to tease you too. You thought the both of you were going to gang up on Satoru and make him give in first, but it seemed Suguru had other plans. 

It wasn’t like anything he did was intense. It was just lingering touches, stolen glances. But somehow each moment made your heart race, images of the last time you had sex flashing in your brain. 

You weren’t without your tricks either though. Shoko and Utahime offered to take you out on Saturday night, a girls night they said. You knew they were gonna go off as soon as you got to the club anyway, preferring to make out with each other instead but you didn’t mind. It was still fun to go dancing. 

Donning your tightest dress and a face of makeup, you strutted out of the bathroom. The two men were sitting on the couch watching an indiscrimate show. 

“Alright guys, I’ll see you later tonight. I’ll make sure to call if I need anything.” You tossed over your shoulder, sliding your heels on. 

Satoru stops mid sentence talking to Suguru and peered over at you, eyes widening at your get up. 

The dress covered all the necessary bits, but if you leaned over anyone would get a free show. And the heels, fuck, the heels made your legs go on for days. 

Neither of them cared how you dressed. In fact, sometimes they liked when you wore things like this. They liked the idea of you turning someone down, just so the sorry loser could feel jealous for what’s not theirs. 

“Damn bunny.” Satoru leaned back against the couch, drinking you in. 

Suguru was more subtle in the way he looked at you. He noticed the way you did your hair. It was his favorite style, and you knew it. 

“Looks good right?” You said, giving them a twirl. 

Satoru’s eyes dropped to your ass and Suguru watched the way your chest juts out. 

“You look perfect baby.” Suguru looked up at your face. 

You leaned down, placing a kiss on each of the boys cheek. They try to avoid looking down your dress but failed miserably. Satoru almost snapped when he saw your lack of bra, your nipples pressing against the thin fabric. Suguru knocked his knee against Satoru’s, bringing Satoru back to reality. 

He would’ve jumped your bones then and there if not for his much calmer counter part. 

You bid them farewell and depart on your night out. You were almost sad that neither of them gave in, but you thought there might be other ways to get them to give in. Like you predicted, Shoko and Utahime disappeared after the first hour but you still had fun dancing alone. 

Four days had passed since that dreadful conversation. You were beginning to curse your past self for making the dumb decision to agree to the stupid bet. Everytime you tried to remind yourself that there was only a couple days left, one of the boys would do something that got you worked up. 

Satoru was out of the house, likely trying to finish up work. You and Suguru were home alone, standing in the kitchen making chatter. There was a lull in the conversation where you both just rested against the counter. Suguru wore one of his tight white button ups, accentuating his muscles. You couldn’t even blame him for wearing it. It was his usual work attire, but it was making you go crazy. 

“This whole bet is stupid, don’t you think?” You say in passing, looking at his arms. 

“Yeah, didn’t think it was gonna be this hard.” He comments. 

Your eyes flick up to search his face. Your feet move instantly, bringing you over to him. Your lips are the first to touch before you feel his heavy hands press against your body. Suguru pushes you against the wall, pressing his lips against yours. You felt like he was simultaneously breathing life into you, while also stealing your oxygen. Suguru’s tongue intertwined with yours, spit swapping between you two. 

Your fingers grip into his shirt, pulling him down closer into you. He pushes you against the wall so hard it almost feels like you’re going to fuse with it. One of his hands wraps against your lower waist while the other sneaks up your back. 

You feel his boner in his pants brushing against your leg and you can’t deny the way your underwear seeps with need. Why did you have to make this stupid bet? You thought you could do it, but your restraint was slowly slipping. 

“Suguru” you moan breathily. 

You feel him take a deep breath, your lip caught between his teeth. 

“I know baby.” He sighs. 

Suguru pulls away and looks down at you. You had never seen his eyes so lust filled before. His hands grip against you tighter. 

“Come to the bedroom with me.”

“But what about-“

Suguru cuts you off with a kiss. You heart flutters in response and you can feel heat spread over your cheeks. 

“We don’t have to have sex. Wanna watch you make yourself cum.” The brashness of his words catch you off guard. 

Suguru grabs your hand and pulls you along to your bedroom. Your fingers itched to roam over his body, but you really wanted Satoru to lose the bet. 

He gently sits you on the bed before pulling a chair up close to you. Your heart pounds in your ears while you rip the clothes off your body at speeds unseen before. Suguru’s eyes analyze each of your movements, wanting to savor each inch of skin you reveal. His hands fumble with his pants before pulling his cock out. It was so hard it was bordering on painful. He couldn’t remember the last time he went this long without sex. He never needed to, not when he had two sexy partners waiting for him at home. 

You slide your underwear down your thighs, spreading your legs. A rush of cold air brushes against your pussy, sending shivers down your spine. 

“Go on baby.” Suguru’s voice edges on obscene, desire clearly dripping from every syllable. 

You press you finger pad against your clit, a sharp intake of air gracing the room. Suguru takes hold of his cock, smearing his precum down his shaft, making it easier to glide his palm against the sensitive skin. 

You watch through hooded eyes at the way Suguru strokes his cock for you. It was almost unfair how beautiful he was, in everything he did. Your finger speeds up, your thighs shaking on either side of you. 

The noises of your slick pussy fill the room. You craved Suguru’s skin on yours, along with Satoru’s. Your boys made you feel so good each time they touched you, and your body was addicted. 

Suguru’s thumb swirls around his tip, his brows furrowing in response as he watches your hand. He never considered himself an impatient man, not nearly as much as Satoru. But the more he thought about it the more he thought that he must be. 

Your mouth drops open as soft moans escape you. You could feel Suguru’s eyes sear into you, making your hole clench around nothing. 

You don’t even notice your front door swing open. The noise reverberates through the house, but you and Suguru are too focused on each other to pay it any mind. 

“I’m home!” Satoru’s voice fills the hall. 

He notices your absence in the living room so he makes his way to your bedroom. The schlick schlick schlick noises were ones he was well acquainted with. A devilish grin spreads across his lips as he grabs the door frame, swinging inside. 

“Ah hah! I knew I would beat you guys! What’re you doing?” He boasts before coming to a stop, seeing that you aren’t touching each other. 

“Not having sex.” Suguru grunts in response, eyes trained on your body. 

“Close enough! I win!” 

Suguru didn’t feel like explaining to Satoru the difference. 

“No it’s not. Now come in and join or leave.” Suguru orders. 

The tough tone sends a tingle over Satoru’s skin. He swallows the lump that settled in his throat, tearing his eyes off Suguru. The air in the room somehow became stifling. He watches you work deftly against yourself, your needy moans sounding like pure lust. 

Satoru drags a chair beside Suguru’s and settles down in it. A low buzz of excitement swims underneath his skin. It takes him a bit before he can rid himself of the clothes he wore, the clothing not coming off fast enough. It didn’t take him long to get hard. The second he heard the noises coming from the room, he could already feel his dick twitch. 

Satoru wraps a hand around his cock and moves it down. A moan falls from his parted lips as he watches you. 

He didn’t know who to focus on. On one side he had Suguru, legs spread and heavy cock in hand. You laid in front of him, body withering while you brought yourself pleasure. It almost hurt how fast he darted his eyes back and forth between you two. 

You open your eyes and whimper seeing Satoru join in. They both watch you as your finger rubs against your clit. 

“Fuck, Suguru how long have you guys been doing this? How haven’t you touched her yet?” 

“Some of us have some self control.” Suguru answers, a teasing lilt to his voice. He speaks as if he wasn’t two seconds away from taking you. 

Satoru opens his mouth to give a smart response back, but the words die in his throat. He quickly finds himself distracted at the way your breasts rise and fall, laborious breaths falling from your lips. He watches the way your finger swirls around your clit, a sight so tempting he wasn’t sure he could resist any longer. 

Satoru moans and grips himself tighter. He desperately needed to touch you. To hell with the bet. 

He launches himself forward, landing in between your legs. You gasp and pull your hand away. Satoru looks like a madman in front of you, pupils blown wide while he eyes your pussy. Suguru slows down, rubbing himself languidly. 

“Satoru, the-“ you start. 

“Fuck that. Need to taste you.” He groans seeing your pussy up close in his face. 

You open your mouth to speak, but all rational thought leaves your brain as you feel his tongue lick one fat stripe from your hole to your clit. You moan out, gripping the sheets below you. It hadn’t been very long since you had sex last, but it felt so good it was like you were going to melt in the bed. 

“O-only you lose.” You murmur, watching as Satoru grips your legs and throws them over his shoulder. 

You think he grumbles an agreement, but you can’t understand him over the sound of your pussy covering his lips. 

You look up at Suguru and see him pick up the pace again. Your hands reach out and he immediately understands, standing up to make his way over to you. Suguru kneels beside your head and leans down, pressing his lips against yours. Your moans melt in his mouth as pleasure flows through you. Each time one of them touched you, it felt like a shock to your system. Satoru sucks your clit, drinking you up. The air in the room felt hot, smoldering. 

“Taste so good bunny, always do just for me. Fuck, could be down here all day-“ Satoru babbles, drunk on your pussy without having even been inside you. 

Suguru toys with your mouth, tongue gliding against yours. His hand lifts up and slides down your body. He grips onto Satoru’s head, shoving his face down against you again, silencing him once more. Satoru graciously accepts, sliding his tongue through your sticky folds. He traces against your clit and feels you tense up. Suguru keeps a hand on Satoru’s head, refusing to let either of you up for air. His mouth suffocates you, making your head dizzy. 

You tap his shoulder rapidly trying to signal your oncoming orgasm and he pulls back, looking deep into your eyes. He watches you through messy bangs, watching you tremble and shake beneath him. 

“Gonna cum baby? Feels good?” 

“Yes- oh fuck, fuck!” You shudder. 

“Yeah?” He breathes out heavily, his voice dripping with pleasure as he watches you. 

“Yes, yes!” You cry. 

Right as you were about to cum, all sensation immediately stopped. Suguru had yanked Satoru away from you. You weren’t sure who whined more, you or him. 

“Please please please Suguru, wanna cum, make me cum!” You find yourself begging, tears threatening to spill. 

You beg him to let you cum even if he wasn’t the one touching you. He had all the power, after all. 

Suguru’s eyes gleam at your request and he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. Without tearing his eyes from you, he orders Satoru. 

“Lay down on the bed Satoru.” 

Satoru scrambles to his feet, practically flopping on the bed beside you. His long legs stretch out in front of him, hanging off the bed. Suguru runs his palm down the side of your face, placing his thumb on your bottom lip and dragging it down. Your insides were turned to mush, all capable thought long gone. 

“Why don’t you go make yourself comfortable on his face.” Suguru tells you in a more soft, hushed tone. 

He always did like bossing Satoru around more, and preferred to use a gentle but firm hand with you. 

You nod eagerly and turn around, crawling towards Satoru. Hot puffs of air flow between your legs as you situate yourself on top. Satoru was always extremely eager, it was endearing. He gave his all in everything he did and that only made sex with him all the more better. You lower yourself down and feel Satoru immediately attach his mouth back on you, a groan of relief reverberating through his chest. 

Suguru shuffles around to grab a bottle of lube before returning, sliding in between Satoru’s spread legs. You watch Satoru’s leg muscles relax under the gentle graze of Suguru’s hands. Their love had always been something so pure, you felt extremely lucky they let you in on something so perfect. Your mouth parts as Satoru goes down on you, his tongue gliding through your folds, making a home inside your aching hole. 

You watch as Suguru spreads Satoru’s legs, pouring lube on his hard cock and Satoru’s tight hole. It was hard to tear your eyes away from the erotic sight. Satoru stutters and jumps once he feels Suguru press into him. The stretch was never bad, always blurring between the lines of unbearable and just right. Suguru presses in further, not stopping until his body meets Satoru. If Satoru’s mouth wasn’t glued to you, you would be able to hear his moaning. 

Suguru pulls out slightly, then guides his way back in. He always liked starting off slow before ultimately wrecking either of you. Suguru was a man who liked to take his time, and you never had a problem with it. 

Satoru, on the other hand, did. 

You watch as Satoru spreads his legs even wider, trying to force his hips down to gain more of Suguru. You could hear something that resembles a whine between your legs. You weren’t sure how you ended up with both the most patient man to exist, and the man who probably doesn’t even know what the word patience means. 

“Always so greedy.” Suguru murmurs under his breath. 

He slams his hips forward with more force and you watch as Satoru’s whole body shakes from the impact. Satoru’s long fingers fly up to grab onto your thighs, pulling you down harder against his face. He glides his tongue around, pressing against your clit. 

Heavy breathing turns into moans as Satoru builds you back up again. Ever the needy one, you reach forward for Suguru. Your lips clash against each other. Suguru keeps one hand on Satoru while he fucks him, using his other hand to grab your face. Giving in had never felt so good before. 

While kissing, Suguru blindly reaches for one of your hands, pulling it forward to hold Satoru’s cock. Once your hand makes contact, you feel as Satoru’s body twists in pleasure. You slide your hand down, trying to pay attention to his cock. It was already wet and twitching in need. 

The room was a mess of salacious sounds. Lips smacking, body’s slapping, and quiet groaning. 

You pull back, peering up at Suguru. One of your hands rests against Satoru’s stomach while the other works hard at making his cock feel good. The height difference between you and Suguru wasn’t extreme as the bed evened it out. He locks eyes with you, watching your face twist in pleasure. 

“S-suguru,” 

“Hm?” He hums back, his cock working at Satoru’s insides. 

“Want you to spit in my mouth.” You drunkly request. 

Suguru cocks an eyebrow, looking taken aback by your request. 

“Is that right baby?” 

“Yes, please.” You find yourself begging, your eyes half lidded. 

Suguru’s lips tilt up in a smile while he leans forward, hips slowing to a stop. Satoru whines but you pay him no mind. Suguru grabs your cheeks, pulling you forward. Your pussy rises off Satoru and you can hear him complain. 

“What the hell Suguru? I was doing something.”

You watch with wide eyes as Suguru lets spit dribble from his lips onto your waiting tongue. You groan once it hits your tastebuds. 

“Shit.” Satoru says breathlessly. 

He watches as your pussy clenches around air, getting a front row seat at the way Suguru made you feel. 

“Yeah?” Suguru asks louder, speaking to Satoru. 

His eyes remain on you. He never knew you would be into something like that. Not that he didn’t know you were secretly nasty. 

“Be a good girl for me and keep that on your tongue, don’t swallow.” Suguru speaks quietly to you. 

Your chest heaves at the way you felt. It felt like you were on fire. 

“Think you can do that for me baby?” 

You nod, careful to leave your mouth propped open so Suguru could make sure you followed his order. 

Suguru begins to start fucking Satoru again while you sit back down, his tongue quickly finding its way back to you. It was hard to moan with your mouth wide open, the sound somehow sounding more debauched than before. You tried to rub Satoru’s cock the best you could, but it was hard to think with the heavy cloud of lust over your head. 

Satoru sucks your clit into his mouth, the action causing a jolt through your system. Suguru must’ve been able to see it in your face. 

“Wanna cum baby?” His hushed voice asks. 

You moan staring up at him, a mixture of your saliva and his beginning to drip down from your tongue, landing on Satoru’s pale skin below you. 

“Swallow that, hm? Don’t wanna make a mess out of Satoru just yet.” 

You quickly shut your mouth, drinking up Suguru’s spit like it was the most divine flavor you’ve ever tasted. 

Suguru groans at the sight, slamming into Satoru. The force causes Satoru to move up, his cock pressing into your hand. 

Your whole body shivers in pleasure, you couldn’t keep it in much longer. 

“Alright, cum for us baby.” Suguru says your name so sweetly you almost forgot the pretense it was under. 

A sob racks your body as Satoru continues devouring you, and you cum powerfully on his tongue. Satoru moans at the taste, quickly swallowing up everything you give him. You see Suguru’s shoulders tense up as he watches you cum and it takes everything in you not to collapse. 

Satoru looks pathetic under you, getting pounded into by your shared boyfriend. You speed up your hand, desperate to watch him cum. You see Satoru’s legs shake out of the corner of your eye and hear a loud whine from beneath you. Satoru’s cock twitches underneath your hand, cum shooting out on top of his stomach. 

Your hips shake, eager to see Suguru spill inside Satoru. Sweat lines his forehead, a show of his hard work. Suguru swears under his breath before squeezing his eyes shut, his cum flowing deep inside Satoru. 

You attempt to catch your breath but fail miserably as you trip over yourself. It always blew your mind at how good sex was with the two. Each time seemed better than the last. 

Suguru slowly slides out of Satoru and reaches out a hand, helping you crawl off of the other man. You weren’t sure how you looked, but you knew you looked better than Satoru. He looked like a mess under you, your cum smearing his face, his cum covering his body, and Suguru’s sweeping out from his asshole. He had a sex drunk look on his face and you weren’t sure you’d be able to snap him out of it. 

“Satoru.” Suguru ushers, leaning over and patting Satoru’s face. 

“Hm? I’m good, just give me a minute.” Satoru breathes out, closing his eyes. 

You giggle and throw your arms around Suguru, kissing him. This kiss was much more sweet and tender, filling your body with warmth. 

“I love you.” You say against his lips. 

“I love you too.” He smiles. 

“Hey, what about my love?” Satoru quips, slowly sitting up and looking at the cum slide down his body. 

You and Suguru place a kiss on each side of his face. 

A thought pops up in your brain. 

“What’re you gonna do for us since you lost?” You ask. 

“After that? Anything you want.”

[plussizefantasia]

Could you do Benedict Bridgerton with wife reader? With fluff promt “I just really want to kiss you right now” Thanks!! :))

Benedict Bridgerton x wife!reader

Summary: Benedict gets inspired by his muse at any time of day.

Word Count : 0.9k

A/N: Thank you for the request, I've never written for Ben before. I hope I did your idea justice <3

It was not the first time you had woken up to your bed being empty and your husband’s side having long gone cold. You realized mere weeks into your marriage that the artist’s spirit was one that never truly rested. Benedict could be inspired at any moment and he was not one to wait until morning to work.

The light that streamed in from the window grazed your face and started to pull you gently from sleep’s embrace. You did not open your eyes yet, dearly wishing to have one more moment to cherish the night before having to greet the day. Your arms stretch above your head and you pull them out to your side, reaching for your love. You chuckle when you feel nothing and open your eyes to search for him.

Your eyes scan over the empty spot that used to hold your husband, at least you knew he had slept a little last night. The two of you had fallen asleep in each other’s arms and you had waited until his breathing had evened out to succumb to sleep.

Your husband was sweet, but you knew that he had no regard for himself. You wonder if this is a trait all artists share or if it is Bridgerton trait. You’d have to ask Kate the next time you saw her if Anthony also had a tendency to burn the midnight oil or if you were just lucky enough to get the restless brother.

You pull the sheets down to your waist and begin to sit up when a cough from the corner of the room catches your attention.

There, in your favorite reading chair sits your husband. Benedict is still in his night clothes, and the ties on his shirt have fallen open exposing more of his chest to your greedy eyes than was available before you went to bed. Clutched in his hand is a sketch pad and some charcoal. His hands are stained and the closer you look you also notice streaks of black across his forehead. He is staring deeply at you.

“Do not move my love, I am inspired.”

You laugh lightly, “When are you not inspired, dear husband?”

“How can I not be always inspired when my muse walks the same halls as I? When I wake up to beautiful sights like this I cannot help but feel the need to catch them on the page.” He nods towards you, still lounging in bed.

“You’re a flatterer and a flirt.”

“Ony for you my love.”

“How long am I to be trapped here?” You ask him.

“You vowed until death do us part.”

“I did,  and I fully intend to honor that vow, but do you truly wish for me to waste away in bed?” 

“You look far too beautiful to be wasting.”

You raised an eyebrow at the love of your life. 

“Just stay there for a few more moments my love, I’m almost finished.” He told you.

You tried to stay still for him, assuming the same position you woke up in, or as close to it as you could get. The room filled with the sounds of scratching on paper and the breaths that came from either of you. You jest with him, but you would gladly waste away in bed if it meant being able to watch Benedict for the rest of your time. The sight of your husband creating masterpieces was one that you loved dearly. Unfortunately Ben didn’t really like people watching him work, this was a rare treat indeed.

“Ben?” You called from your spot on the bed.

“Yes Love?” He did not look up from his paper.

“I do not think I can wait much longer.”

“And whyever not?” His lips spread into a grin and he looked up into your eyes.

“I just really want to kiss you right now.” You bit your bottom lip lightly and smiled at him.

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” He stood and placed the paper and coal on the seat. He slowly made his way closer to where you lie in wait. “My lovely wife needs to be kissed does she?” He asked you, climbing onto the bed and hovering over you.

“She does.” You nodded. “I fear she might not survive much longer without one.”

“We cannot have that, who shall inspire me if she is not with me?” He drew his face closer to yours, rubbing his nose along yours.

“Ben please,” you whispered.

“How I love to hear you beg.” He smiled into your neck, where he began to pepper small kisses. 

‘I do not think that I was beg-” he silenced you with a kiss. It was slow and filled with love, your lips dancing with each other perfectly. 

You sat up without breaking the kiss, twisting yourself so that the two of you were intertwined. 

Mornings like these were a rare treat indeed.

[j0kers-light]

His Lighthouse: Protect and Serve (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Protect and Serve

series summary:

Y/n is an aspiring writer living in Gotham City and struggling to find her next muse. Her recent novel is getting all the buzz, earning her far more attention than she signed up for. But when a chance encounter results in her nursing The Joker back to health, will she find the time to write another best seller or will her own story become front page of the Gotham Gazette?

chapter summary:

GothCon is finally here! Will Y/n have a fun and fantastic time or will her lifelong dream be shattered by her past?

author's note:

The wait is over!!! For four long months I left my loves hanging, well no longer! Chaos is back in business and I give you another pivotal dream turned into a chapter. Buckle up loves. We’re nearing the end.

Let me know if you wish to be added to the official His Lighthouse taglist! Be alerted with any oneshots and the main story updates! 🖤✨

Last Chapter | Next Chapter

The dark gloomy skyline of Gotham was dramatically highlighted by a heavy downpour of rain. Longtime residents weren’t phased by the constant shower and Cindy was no different.  

She walked into a local restaurant, shaking out her umbrella before setting it into a cubby. This place would not have been her first choice, but Barbara insisted the menu was worth the long commute. Either way, Cindy pulled her gloves off as she reached the table. 

The young lady sitting in a decked-out wheelchair was too engrossed on her phone to notice the businesswoman waiting to be acknowledged. “Barbara.” Cindy’s long nails tapped twice on the table surface, finally getting the woman’s attention. 

She locked her phone and looked up, “Hey! You made it!”  

Cindy hummed and sat down opposite of Barbara. A waiter came over to place a drink order and offer an appetizer. 

With the order set, Cindy enlaced her fingers together. “Now, let’s get to the matter at hand. Wait, where’s Morgana?” She noticed there were four chairs at this table and two were empty.  

“She’s running a bit late, something about a high priority client requesting her last minute. Did you message Florence?” Barbara asked from across the table.  

Cindy rolled her light brown eyes and brushed off the question. Not like she cared that much for the loud beautician anyway. “She didn’t reply when I messaged her. I’m assuming she’s still giving us all the silent treatment. Whatever for.” 

Barbara however was more concerned. “Has anyone heard from her since the whole fiasco at Y/n’s?” 

It seemed like ages ago when barely two weeks had passed since your family dinner turned into a disaster.  

Florence stormed out of your apartment and effectively put the girls on silent treatment. A few days of no contact was normal after a misunderstanding like this, but Florence was being petty now. A mess was an understatement to describe it all, although it was the least of Cindy’s worries.  

“No, and I do not care about Florence and her attitude. My focus is on Y/n. My publishing partner hid his past sexual harassment charges from me and the board. I found him in my office with Y/n and...” 

“He did WHAT?!” Barbara half whispered screamed. Her green eyes were wider than the saucers on the table.  

Cindy sighed, “Y/n won’t talk about it, she just avoids the situation with the excuse of GothCon preparations being more important. That’s why I called you. I thought you would know more information being closer to her and all.”  

“I’m no help. These days..” Barbara looked at the rain running down the windows, “None of us are close with Y/n. It's like we barely know her at all.” 

Cindy arched an eyebrow at the ominous words. “Why does it feel like I’m out of the loop? Just because I work all the time doesn’t mean I’m not a part of the girl boss square circle!” 

It was Barbara’s turn to be confused. “Wait, she didn’t tell you? I assumed since you knew Y/n from Blüdhaven and all, that you knew already.” 

“Can you stop avoiding the fact and tell me?” 

“It’s not my place to say.” Barb wavered, but Cindy was quick to dispel the feeling. “How bad can it be?” She countered.  

Barbara winced and started typing in her notes app what she was too afraid to say aloud. Once she was done, she slid the device across the table for Cindy to read.  

Her face was a slab of stone as she read the horrors on the digital screen. Nothing could have prepared her for this.  

Cindy cleared her throat as she passed the phone back. She blinked up at the ceiling to conceal the tears that threatened to escape.  

“Everything makes sense now.” She fiddled with her earrings when the waiter arrived with appetizers and kind smiles.  

Nothing was said as they set plates and cutlery down onto the table. “Did anyone know about this?” Cindy hissed once they were out of earshot. 

“Uh no? We recently learned about it at Y/n’s dinner party. Flo sorta kinda kickstarted the panic attack that revealed it. Y/n’s parents told me, Morgana, Dick, and Bruce.” Barbara pushed her food around on the plate as silence fell over the table.  

Cindy was the one to break it.  

“I remember Y/n having some type of accident several months before she moved to Gotham. It halted her onboarding process, but she never mentioned anything about it afterwards. She just jumped right into writing and releasing books. She was like a machine, you know? I thought it was jitters of being a new author wanting to prove herself. I did not know about..”  

Cindy pushed her plate away, suddenly not hungry. “I’m her manager, I should have noticed that something was wrong!”  

Barbara couldn’t blame her Cindy for reacting in such a way.  

None of your friends noticed anything either. Your aversions, the incessant need for privacy. They were oblivious to it all. You only wanted peace and quiet and they hounded you relentlessly, treating you more like a child than a friend.  

Now was not the time to be moping around about the past. It was time to act before you spiraled into a hole no one would be able to dig you out of.  

You were already a trigger away from snapping.  

Cindy must’ve read Barb’s thoughts. “GothCon starts next week. I can only image how overwhelmed Y/n already is on top of preparations.” 

“So, what do we do?” Barbara asked.  

She didn’t want to add more unnecessary stress to your plate, but at this point, some friendly interference could help you in the long run. You could use an intervention, therapy even! Or was it the right thing to honor your wishes and let you suffer in silence?  

By the time the two women came to a decision, it was already too late to act.  

It was finally here. One of your lifelong goals as a writer.  

Gotham Con was an esteemed event for any content creator. One week filled with their work being celebrated and on display surrounded by likeminded individuals. You planned this event for months (honestly, years) and now the week before the huge event had arrived.  

With the constant online notifications from excited fans to organizers sending you confirmation emails and last-minute preparation checklists—you were quite literally, losing it. 

And Joker had a front row seat to the impending panic attack. You were neck deep in your computer, fingers typing away at the speed of sound, and you hardly took the time to eat or take any breaks in between prep work. 

Joker was reminded of the first week he invaded your life. You had the same mindset; nothing but work on the brain. Somehow you forgot a wanted fugitive was in your home then and ironically, now.  

He missed those days when it was just you and him cooped up indoors.  

No distractions. No drama.  

Today was the opposite. You were on a conference call with who knows who discussing something that went over his head. He could appreciate the entire event better after catching a glimpse of the behind-the-scenes effort needed to make it all happen.  

“No. No, I requested an hour presentation months ago..” You dug through a folder with papers until one held the info you needed. “Ma’am, I think I have higher priority over a completed web series. Let’s be real.” 

Joker sat back on the couch to watch his Bunny stand up for herself.  

He enjoyed your stubborn pouts when the person on the phone said something stupid. He treated the ordeal as if it were a blockbuster movie and not your carefully thought-out plans unraveling at the seams. He understood firsthand how it felt, however; you managed to always turn things around.  

You made arguing with someone on the phone entertaining, or rather J was just infatuated with you. He secretly loved when you were angry, just not at him.  

You were a pretty thing regardless of your mood.  

Times like this, Joker was reminded of just how lucky he was to have met you. How did he survive for so long without your light in his life? He didn’t, that’s how.  

He was still daydreaming when you ended the call and let out a deep spiritual sigh. You wanted to count to ten and scream at number four.  

Then you spotted your lover staring at you with that dopey look you had grown to love. You wished you could reciprocate that feeling. Hopefully Joker knew how much you cared about him without saying those magical three words.  

For now, you could give him an excuse for ruining his cuddle time.  

“Sorry, the event manager couldn't find my invoice and threatened to take me off the schedule—a week before the con! I feel like everything is going wrong for no reason.” you sighed.  

You groaned all way over to Joker’s lap where he yanked you down to restore your previous seat.  

The giant tv on the wall was muted with the picture still going. Neither of you could remember what y’all were watching before being interrupted.  

Joker could care less. You weren’t paying it any attention anyways and Joker was thankful since his most recent misdeed was currently being broadcasted on the breaking news.  

His goons were swift with their security reports. You had another episode at your publisher’s office and a certain Thomas J. Ford was the trigger. Joker didn’t need to know the details. In fact, all J knew was that you came home with dried tears on your face and way too quiet to be considered fine.  

He got you cleaned up, fed, and tucked into bed before he did what he did best.  

Create chaos.  

And now the news was airing the fool’s unfortunate ‘car crash’ that led to his death.  

Joker snorted. The fire would erase all the torture he inflicted on the man who dared to make his Goddess cry. Joker took pleasure hearing every cry of pain that Thomas created. He squealed like a pig the second Joker mentioned your name.  

‘I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear! I’m so sorry.’ 

It was too late for apologizes. Joker knew men like Thomas would not learn. Hurting and harassing women was just a pass time to them. Joker took it upon himself to prevent this from ever happening again to anyone. You’d been through enough already. Joker proved he could be your silent protector. He would always protect you. 

No amount of soap could remove the blood from his hands. He kissed the crown of your head while his tainted hands rubbed soothing shapes on your back.  

You were nodding off from all of J’s soft touches but a faint buzzing from your phone, roused you back awake.  

His eyes glanced at the device on the coffee table, “Leave it, Bun. It’s nothin.’” He should have known you wouldn’t listen to his orders. You never did.  

“It could be Delilah with the VIP passes.” 

“Who?” How did you memorize every person you spoke with? He lost count already.  

“It doesn’t matter who, lemme see.” You squirmed in his hold that only tightened the more you rebelled. He did not want you turning around and your gaze landing on the tv, so he made up excuses.  

“Aht aht. You promised to re-lax with meeeee. No phones, no plannin’ from either of us.” 

You were quick with the side eye, “You can’t go an hour without planning something.” His scarred face cracked in a genuine smile from being called out. His brain never shut off. Joker was scheming right now.  

“Do I really look like a guy with a plan?” 

All you did was roll your eyes.  

Joker moved slowly so you could feel his hands cup your face. “My Bunny’s been running like a chicken with her uhh.. head cuT off. I do have a plan if! you’re up for it.”  

“Here we go” you started but Joker silenced you with a playful boop to your nose. He really had to stop doing that. It made you jump every time.  

“Listennnn Bunny. You’ve been stressed lately, hm? So! I was thinK-ing.. I cash in on that err.. promise I made ya. You remember. The night ya neverrr forget?”  

He smiled at your bashful reaction. “Yeah, my pretty girl remembers. Why don’tcha leave all the planning to me and leT me spoil ya. Prett-Y please?” 

How could you deny J when he looked so irresistible? He forewent makeup today giving you a perfect view of the constellations of freckles that adorned his skin. Those vibrant eyes of his were like pools of emerald sucking you in. You could blindly trust this clown and that fact scared you tremendously. 

“F-Fine but nothing too crazy. I still have to work you know.”  

Joker made a funny noise while drumming his fingers down your back. “Mm, is flying ya out the state too crazy?”  

You knew he was being serious by how he avoided eye contact with you. He burst out laughing seeing your troubled expression. No doubt, you were remembering his terrifying flying skills. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding sweetheart.” He purred. He was lying right through his teeth and the both of you knew it. Joker never did things halfway. Over the top and meticulously planned was his signature. “Sheesh, you really are stressed.” He mumbled to himself.  

The steady downpour outside briefly caught his attention. Gotham City was saturated with rain and for once, Joker had no intention of wreaking havoc on the city. He wanted nothing more to stay indoors with his Light and pass the time together doing everything and nothing.  

The simple act of holding you and watching the rain hit the glass roof was enough to satisfy J.  

You called his name, hoping to regain his attention. And just like that, Joker’s intense green eyes were on you. “Do I have time to squeeze in a nap?” you shyly asked. That last business call really took a lot out of you and J took pity on the cute little yawns you tried to mask. 

“Duh! My Goddess can sleep for as loooong as she wants. I won’t move a muscle.”  

“Can you um...” your voice trailed off as your insecurities kicked in. Naturally, Joker noticed it.  

He leaned his head down to urge you to speak up. “What was that, doll?” J had an idea of what you wanted judging by your hooded eyes, but he wanted to hear you say it.  

A closed mouth would not get fed, or however the saying went.  

“Can you keep r-rubbing my back? I-It feels good.” You blurted out. This man had done far more intimate acts with your body but asking him to rub your back is what made you flustered?  

Quiet moments like this with J put a spotlight on his rare soft side. He was shockingly a great cuddler and he was always in tune with your needs. You couldn’t ask for a better partner.  

Wait. Partner?  

Your brain went into overdrive overthinking that one insignificant word. Partner. Is that how you viewed Joker? Did he feel the same?  

He was obvious to your thoughts, but he could tell you were doing some heavy thinking. You were biting your poor lip raw. You couldn’t help stressing yourself out.  

He chuckled while wordlessly obeying your request.  

Joker took a deep breath, before he began moving his hands up and down your back in shapes that only he could decipher. Joker ran like a furnace, not like you minded. Your apartment ran a little cold during rainy mornings. The benefits of living in an old penthouse you assumed. At least having J around saved on your heating bill.  

The steady beat of Joker’s heart was like a lullaby in your ear as you gradually fall asleep in his arms. There was no safer place in Gotham than here with him. You were dozing off in record time.  

Oh, the trust you gave never failed to surprise him.  

Despite your dark past, you opened up and let him see you. Laid bare, broken, and raw, he got to see it all. You let The Joker of all people, know you so intimately. It was the greatest honor.  

Joker wanted to give you the world in return. His sweet Light, who took on so much weight on your too little shoulders.  

You gave him permission to execute his plans, and his goons were on standby to make it happen. Joker put this off for way too long. He picked up his phone and quickly sent off a message.  

‘We’re a go.’ 

How you managed to sleep through the countless door slams and frequent bustling throughout your apartment was a testament to just how exhausted you were.  

Joker saw how much energy you were putting into the final preparations for GothCon but you were running yourself ragged doing so. You more than deserved a break. He planned to spoil you the night he drove you to Blüdhaven, yet outside interference ruined his plans.  

Tonight’s reattempt was nowhere near the elaborate affair Joker originally had planned, but it’ll do. He promised you that he would not go too crazy.  

He half listened.  

In the end, your afternoon nap morphed into an evening one and the smell of something divine inevitably lured you awake. Your hair was all over the place (what possessed you not to wear a bonnet?) and droll was most likely dried on your chin. It was a good idea to freshen up but that smell was just too irresistible to ignore. The penthouse was dark and so was the kitchen as you sat up.  

Your eyes were still adjusting but J was nowhere to be found. And he wouldn’t move a muscle, he said. “J?”  

Your voice bounced off the vaulted ceilings. You secretly hoped he didn’t leave to go out and terrorize the city.  

It wouldn’t be the first time he left you hanging without a goodbye. Regardless, you were hungry, and your stomach cried out, demanding that you find the source of the food you smelled.  

The rainstorm had stopped, giving the city a reprieve for the night. Your sunroom’s glass doors were wide open, and you could see the balcony’s string lights casting a glow from your vantage point on the living room couch. What was Joker up to? 

Without knowing the full picture, you knew your Prince of Crime was responsible.  

You toed on a pair of house slippers and shuffled towards the balcony where the sight wiped the last dregs of sleep away.  

“Tada!” Joker was standing in the middle of a picturesque romcom scene as proud as ever.  

Your eyes did not know where to look.  

Candles and the balcony’s string lights softened the gloomy Gotham City skyline in the background. Somehow Joker found a round dinner table and threw a crisp white tablecloth, more candles, and a vase of your favorite flowers on top of it.  

You knew Morgana’s work from anywhere.  

Her locally grown petals were scattered on the balcony, some being swept by the nighttime breeze. But the best part of all was Joker dressed in a cozy sweater and slacks. You never seen him look so... homey. He made you feel underdressed with your sleep tossed curls and frumpy sweats.  

By how Joker stared at you, what you wore was the least of his concerns. You just woke up and he thought you looked heavenly.  

“Do ya li-ke it, doll?” Joker walked over and wiped a tear from your cheek. You didn’t realize that you were crying. He didn’t mention it either.  

“Your uh, dinner is gettin’ cold. Here.” Joker took your hand and guided you over to the table with the ease of a gentleman.  

He let you sit and pushed you into the table with a low chuckle. You were speechless. Joker was a master organizer, but this looked like it should have taken a day to collaborate, not a couple of hours.  

"How did you do all of this? I took a nap, right? I didn’t oversleep and skip a day?”  

Joker smirked and lifted the metal covers off the plates. Your eyes widened at the steaming entrée that greeted you. Your stomach sang out in glee.  

“Mmh. I’d be hungry too if my owner didn’t. Eat. All. Day.” Joker sent you a sharp glare for your oversight. You were working too hard and forgotten to eat. Again.  

“Sorry.” you mumbled. Joker just rolled his eyes and gestured to the food. He didn’t have to tell you twice. You picked up a fork and dug in, and immediately cooed at the burst of flavor.  

“Did you cook this?!”  

“What? Shocked a white boy can cook?” you almost spat out your food at Joker’s comment. He wasn’t bothered and stabbed a vegetable with his fork, inspecting it closely. “If you must know, I had some uhh... assistance.” He flung the veg over the balcony edge while you weren’t looking.  

You were too caught up in the moment to notice.  

“Yeah, I can tell you called Morgana for flowers.” You smiled at the flower spread surrounding you. He grunted, giving away the answer. You were happy with Joker’s growth. He was learning, slowly but surely, how to interact with others. He still hated people; he just tolerated them for your sake.  

It gave you the idea that he hired a chef. He surprised you that one time by cooking pancakes, but J said it himself, “at least I can feed myself without burning the apartment down." 

There was no way he could have pulled off this fancy dinner on his own. “I didn't know you could this good.” you said, poking around for answers.  

You did not need to know how many times Joker almost burned the food.  

The private chef that he hired offered to cook the meal and give Joker all the credit but that wouldn’t do. J wanted you to eat something that he made, that he provided for you. It was a primal instinct he wanted to act on.  

Joker just needed an expert to spot his work. The three hours and countless death threats to the chef were worth seeing your blinding smile with each bite you took.  

You didn’t seem to notice the too charred vegetables or the grainy sauce, maybe you did and ate it anyway. Joker was happy to see you clear your plate, and he loved watching your childlike excitement as he brought out dessert.  

“It's beautiful, J!” You almost didn’t want to eat the work of art.  

Now this he had to come clean about. “I uhhh..I didn’t make this. Gotta leave some things to ahh, ex-perTs.” 

You sank your spoon into the confit, smirking. “I know, J.” You knew your man didn’t have the patience to make such a confection.  

He eyed your tongue darting out to collect the sugar from your lips. He almost didn’t hear your question. Almost. 

“Aww, don’t worry about me doll. I can find something to do while you’re away. A robbery. A couple of murders. Messin’ with Bats..” 

“I’m serious Joker. I don’t want you moping around the apartment or out causing chaos while I’m at Con.” 

Joker had the right to look offended. “Me? I would never!” 

“Moping around or being a menace?” You challenged.  

J smiled into his bite of dessert. It was his turn to make you all hot and bothered. His moan of delight sounded too suggestive for a harmless dessert. Watching him lick his spoon clean felt like an X rated show. Joker and that devilish tongue of his...  

You cleared your throat. “W-Whatever, you better not get caught while I’m gone.” 

Joker hummed in the intimate air. “You ready for next week?” He regretted asking you the second you groaned and dropped your spoon.  

“Yes? No? Physically I am, but there’s so much I want to say and not enough time to say it in! What if my fans hate my presentation?” Your lower lip wobbled just thinking about it.  

The sight alone had Joker reacting to pacify it.  

“Bunny. No. They won’t hate it. Uhh, remember? I’m your biggest fan? and I would love anything you present. Aht aht. I mean it. They didn’t see how you ‘perfected’ that video a bajillion time and practiced your speech till ya voice went hoarse. I have. Sooooo, I mean it when I say, they’ll love iT. I’ll kill anyone who doesn’t.” He grumbled the last sentence, yet you heard the honesty in his voice.  

“You can’t go around murdering all my haters, J.” 

He arched an eyebrow in denial. “Who says I can’t?”  

Fair point. Not even you could stop Joker from a killing spree once he put his mind to it. Although you could try and compromise with the sadistic clown. “Promise me you won’t go awol?”  

The request went right over J’s head. “What-everrrrr ya say, Bun. Now! Who’s ready for a distraction?” He spotted your empty dessert bowl and wanted to skip to tonight’s main event. He was excited to see your reaction.  

You were curious when Joker helped you out of your seat, cut the lights—plunging the balcony into darkness before pulling you into his lap on the patio couch.  

The nearby Fashion District usually offered up ample lighting, however tonight, its glow was nonexistent. You didn’t like the sea of darkness surrounding you. Joker instantly noticed you tensing up.  

He kissed you on the cheek while pointing up at the night sky. “Watch.” He sent a quick text as you grew more confused.  

“Watch what? It’s pitch black out.” Then you heard it. The first of many canons going off until color invaded the sky. It was a beautiful display of controlled chaos.  

Fireworks in Gotham City.  

Your eyes widened as each shell became more and more elaborate. You couldn’t tell where they were being shot from, but the fact that Joker organized them was touching.  

You told him once in passing you missed the illegal firework shows back in Blüdhaven.  

They were a big deal in your neighborhood growing up. Everyone pitched in money to buy the banned goods. Living in a dense city made setting them off virtually impossible and the police cracked down on the annual tradition harder each year until it ended altogether. 

Joker ever so observant, must’ve planned to set off fireworks in Blüdhaven when the two of you visited. When he did things like this, you forgot all about the psychopathic murderer he truly was.  

A dud went off and you took that time to lean back and kiss Joker. “Thank you.”  

He pretended like it wasn’t a big deal and shrugged off your emotions bubbling up to the surface. You blinked back the happy tears and returned your gaze back to the colorful night sky.  

Joker circled his arms around you, pleased at a successful mission.  

He wanted you to view the fireworks in your childhood neighborhood all dolled up and pretty, but this was still a night you’ll never forget.  

His Goddess tucked safely in his arms, well fed, and happy. What more could he ask for? He’d never forget this either.  

The final fireworks seemed bigger than the sky itself.  

A technicolor canon went off in an extravagant explosion that you knew cost an arm and leg. Definitely imported. One flame diverted its course and set a building alit, but you didn’t see that. Your eyes were glued to the finale canon that went off like a war zone before ending with you and J’s initials inside a heart.  

You didn’t realize how quiet it was until the fireworks stopped. Gotham City was eerily quiet even for a weeknight.  

The smell of sulfur was still heavy in the air as you turned around to face J.  

“Joker that was...!” Your words died out as you locked eyes with your lover.  

All the malice he gave the world melted from his eyes and the remains was pure adoration fixated on you. He looked possessed. High. And his scarred lips spreading into a lop-sided smile didn’t help clear his innocence. 

“Have I told ya that before?” Joker mumbled. 

You didn’t know what he was on about. You silently shook your head in the negative.  

Joker’s smitten gaze hardened as he swallowed. You were shocked to see two extreme emotions alter his face so quickly, but you were patient to hear what this clown had to say. 

“Tell me what?” You caressed his cheek, feeling the scar tissue with your thumb until J grabbed your hand. He didn’t break eye contact as he kissed each of your fingers.  

“I.. I don’t think I’ll ever love someone the way I do you.”  

You knew Joker was serious. He didn’t stress a single word. He said the most romantic confession and brushed it off the second he realized you were frozen in shock.  

Joker knew you were healing and dropping love bombs wasn’t ideal—but he couldn’t help it! The phrase fell from his lips because it was the truth. He never felt this way before and if he didn’t say it aloud, he just might actually go insane.  

He didn’t expect you to respond. His heart was fine with your silence because the single tear running down your cheek told him you felt the same. 

For now, he could handle a little rejection even it wasn’t intentional. He stood with a flourish and offered you his hand to take.  

“Whaddya say I get my Light to bed? No more stressin’ ya got it? I want these next few days to be... re-lax-ing.”   

You would try, just to see Joker smiling the way he was right now— like all was right in the world, a world where his Light was the center axis.  

True to Joker’s word, he kept you stress free the days leading up to GothCon.  

He wouldn’t let you lift a finger. It was just like the first months with Joker hiding away in your apartment. Just the two of you against the world. You didn’t turn on the tv, Joker turned off his phone or rather, it was off when you were looking. He still had a criminal empire to run no matter how good his intentions were with his Bunny.  

He thanked you for being naïve as he finalized his own preparations for the fated GothCon behind your back. 

He would be busy as well. Everything had to go smoothly behind the scenes for your week to be successful. Which led him to the morning of. 

A sunny day in Gotham was coveted as good luck. The curtains in the bedroom were drawn but that didn’t stop Joker from knowing what time it was. Your phone almost woke you up with an alarm. Not an ideal way to start a, no doubt, stressful day.  

Joker had more pleasant ways to wake up his girl.  

You were already lying on your back, looking so innocent in your slumber. Joker almost felt bad for doing this. Almost.  

His sinister grin disappeared underneath the bedsheets until he arrived right where he needed to be. He slowly parted your thighs to reveal the goldmine between them. Joker licked his lips just thinking about the taste.  

There was a reason why he nicknamed you sugar. He didn’t waste any time diving into his dessert. 

You woke up with a jolt followed by a shudder running down your spine. The odd sensation wouldn’t go away until you felt pressure down there.... 

Despite it feeling absolutely amazing, your first instinct was to kick the offender away—that is, until worn calluses you knew from anywhere, rubbed soothing patterns on your warm skin to calm you down. In that same moment, you yanked the sheets back to reveal Joker’s wild bed head between your legs.  

Joker was caught red handed and he didn’t care.  

His green eyes were glazed over as he laved at your clit with a cheeky, “M’ning sweet thing. So sweet..”  

It was like your pleasure finally registered. You fisted the sheets with a choked moan as it hit you like a tidal wave.  

Joker’s encouraging groans sent little tremors throughout your cunt and he didn’t let you squirm away.  

His hands kneaded your hips like an avid baker, keeping you right where he wanted you. He knew where to squeeze, how to use his tongue, and exactly when to flick your clit just right to make you explode.  

Your poor bonnet slipped off with all the thrashing you were doing but Joker had you going through it. His venom green eyes pierced your soul as he sucked it right out of your body.  

Even when you grew sensitive and began to tap out, Joker shook his head, not letting go of his tasty morsel. He loved feeling your thighs suffocating him as another powerful orgasm washed over you. He wasn’t stopping. If he died, then so be it. 

“J, p-please..” you twitched when Joker licked your pussy like a lolly pop. You could already hear his stupid rhetoric jab, ‘how many licks does it take to get to the center?’ 

One, two... 

You couldn’t take anymore and shoved Joker’s head away but it was too late.  

Your third and final release got tangled up in your throat and it left your face all tingly as a result. Every inhale you took prolonged the throbbing inferno and if it were possible to see clearly, Joker’s face dripping with your juices would have really made you pass out.  

He sat up and sucked his fingers clean while watching you fight your way back to Earth.  

Your hand over your heart did a whole lotta nothing to calm it. 

Everything was times a hundred on the sensory scale. Joker just smirked and helped you down by lightly drawing on your exposed skin with his pinky finger.  

J knew you were back when you sank your nails into his hair. He needed to wash it if he had plans on going out. “What was that for?” You panted.  

As if he needed a reason to bless you with a good morning, Joker gasped in faux disbelief. “Uhh? Today’s the day! You ready to meet your a-bore-ring fans?”  

And just like that, your mood evaporated.  

You groaned straight into a pillow until Joker snatched it away with a sly grin. “Need n’other distraction?” He used his fingers to ‘walk’ up your hip. You were tempted. You still couldn’t feel your legs... 

But you refused to be afraid. “You can’t distract me forever, J.” You flung the covers back and wobbled onto your feet. “Easy there, doll.” Joker teased. 

You ignored his wheezing laughter to check on the outfit you set out the night before.  

You wanted to look your best to feel your best. Large crowds, screaming fans, and tight spaces; your poor social bar was going to be put to the test this week. Day one would set the mood for the entire event, and you wanted it to be perfect.  

There was no room for error when the event would be highly documented via live streams and other media. 

The colorful ensemble Joker helped pick out flowed through your fingers as you inspected for any possible spots. “I wish you could come with me.” you sighed and headed towards the bathroom. “Oh well.”  

Joker snorted when you disappeared into the bathroom to begin getting ready. He was already twelve steps ahead of you.  

You left Joker at the penthouse well before the sun started to rise. Today was a big day and there was no time to waste.  

You arrived at your designated booth to the sight of Cindy and her new assistant, Noah, bustling around. Noah was the first to spot you and his sweet sigh of relief made you laugh as you handed him coffee.  

“Bless you for this!” He downed the large cup in a matter of seconds. Sometimes Gen Z truly scared you.  

Your concerned gaze shifted to Cindy who was talking to two men, pointing to where you taped off a natural line for fans to queue. They nodded and started setting up the rope barriers.  

The last of your booth decor was being put into place while two helpers from Cindy’s office were arranging your books in a neat but approachable, display.  

The meet and greet photo booth was taking shape nearby and you loved how the art you commissioned a fan to create turned out. It was all coming together.  

All that was left was the people.  

An officiant walked by an hour later brandishing a bullhorn. “Doors open in fifteen! Please be at your designated areas in fifteen minutes. Thank you.”  

Cue your panic attack.  

Cindy spotted it and ran over. She pressed your face with blotting paper and offered you a water bottle. “Y/n.... deep breaths, okay? These are your loyal fans. You were born ready for this. Natural smiles, calm demeanor, and a steady hand. Repeat that.” 

“Repeat what?”  

She pinched her nose, sighing.  

Cindy wouldn’t be able to hover over you all morning; that was Noah’s job. The new intern would blend right in with the crowd’s demographic and offer you some moral support while Cindy took care of the networking aspect of things.  

You could use all the support you could get to survive to the afternoon presentation.  

Cindy was smart to schedule it later on in the day in an attempt to help build up some courage for you. It beat presenting bright and early like other seasoned GothCon headliners were doing.  

It was all too much to think about. Then you remembered Cindy patiently waiting for a response.  

“I’ll be fine.” You rehearsed your panic signals. Overwhelmed. I need a break. Abort. You could escape all by fiddling with your earrings or sharpie. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to those extremes.  

You waved Cindy away and sat up tall, right as the announcer came over the convention center speakers welcoming everyone to this year’s GothCon.  

Strangely enough, your face broke out into a genuine smile when curious, and ecstatic, fans started to pour into the building. Perhaps you would be fine after all.  

You were handing a special Braille edition to a young girl when you spotted the next person in line. “Will!” you waved at the twelve-year old and his group of friends.  

They were quite shocked when you stood up to hug William like a close friend.  

It wasn’t time for meet and greets and you knew the line of fans were giving the preteen a mean jealous glare. “You made it!!” You beamed.  

“Haha yeah.. Thanks for the scoring us the tickets btw. Your hands are healed!” Will clapped them, earning a laugh out of you.  

So much had happened in your life since meeting the little Brit. Joker cutting your hands seemed like the least of your worries.  

You held your silver sharpie like a wand. “Yes, all healed which means... do you really need another signed copy?”  

Will took offense. He held up his special edition copy as if it explained itself. It did. There was only a few thousand floating around due to the hand painted edges and embossed crest on the sleek hardcover. Another collaboration with a talented fan of yours at work.  

“Y/n, I’m hurt.” He didn’t have to call you out like that.  

“Okay, okay.. I’ll sign your special edition, geez.” You took your time swooping the letters of your name and emphasizing the swirls that lead to your drawn heart. You loved your Avant Garde signature. No one could replicate it.  

Will stood to the side as you signed his three friends copies and made light conversation.  

They asked how you knew Will so closely and you boosted the boy’s ego by telling them the truth. Not everyone got to have their favorite author show up at their doorstep for dinner.  

You hoped Will would overcome his social anxiety and flourish with his new friends. You saw so much of your younger self in him.  

You handed your book back to Will’s friend. “Oh, don’t forget to stay for my segment! It’s after the meet and greet block.”  

Noah cleared his throat as he walked by your booth, signaling you spent too much time with William and his friends. You winced and waved them off to greet the next fan in line.  

You didn’t understand why you were so nervous earlier.  

Interacting with your fans came naturally to you after the first few awkward minutes. Sure, you messed up a signature or two, no one cared as long as they got a signed copy.  

Once the autograph line diminished a bit, coordinators guided you over to the big photo shoot area you had set up.  

There the bulk of your nerves came out. Talking about your books and signing them was one thing, taking pictures was where you panicked. The constant flashing light did something to you mentally. 

Case in point, a pair of twins were spouting their theories about a fourth WHB book when they surprised you by taking out their personal cell phones.  

The prohibited flash caught you off guard and you jumped back, feeling an episode kicking in.  

Water rushed in your ears, and it made their concerned, ‘are you okay? sound miles away. Did you nod? Did you touch your earring? Who knows. You needed a minute and neither Noah or Cindy was around to rescue you.  

What if someone was filming and posted your panic attack on social media? Cindy’s PR team would murder you.. So many worries piled on and threatened to topple you over.  

You had to be seeing things.  

In your panic scan for an exit, your eyes caught the sight of green in the crowd. Like a light switch, your heartbeat calmed. The stacked noise of background conversations and music rushed back. You were above the water and steady on your feet.  

That slight glimpse grounded you.  

“Omg Y/n? Are you like, okay? I hope I didn’t offend you!” One of the twins said.  

You sent her a reassuring smile. “I’m okay, the um.. flash must’ve—Hunter is very much alive. I can’t kill off the eye candy!”  

That got them both to squealing (and diverted the curious eyes away from you) and just like that, the next person was stepping up for their twenty minutes. You hugged and exchanged pleasantries, but your mind was elsewhere.  

You couldn’t shake the sight out of your head. Was Joker really in the crowd or were you seeing things? It wouldn’t be the first time you hallucinated him.  

“—and I’m so happy you’re so inclusive with your stories! I just love you!”  

This current fan was dressed in an elaborate cosplay from some manga you’ve seen once or twice. It was interesting to see how diverse people were with literature. Your novels were a far cry from comics, yet you still had a place here at GothCon.  

Mind blowing. And more so, the turnout you got was insane.  

Noah must’ve seen how you were struggling with this current fan.  

They stuck to character and spoke just like them, making understanding them a bit of a challenge. Noah stepped in with his own bubbly persona.  

“Hi! Love the cosplay girl, but I gotta wrap this up. Attention everyone! Please join us in 2A for our big surprise after lunch! Yes, Room 2A!” 

He grabbed your hand and whisked you away before you could utter a single goodbye.  

“Noah!” You weren’t upset, more like impressed. 

He ushered you into the designated staff area in no time. “I am not missing out on lunch. Cindy promised catering.” 

Both of you shared a look. “Of course she did.” 

How the businesswoman got piping hot food from your favorite restaurant in the rush and madness of GothCon, the world may never know.  

Your team actually sat down in an empty banquet room for lunch unlike other presenters. You saw one eating instant noodles in the staff hallway. It really paid to be organized.  

In between bites of food, you rehearsed your upcoming speech and did a mock presentation without too many stutters.  

“You’re overthinking it, Y/n. It’s perfect, I promise.” Lily, a content editor from Cindy’s Publisher house, spoke up. The team all nodded in agreement, but it wasn’t enough for you.  

Cindy set her fork down before adding in her two cents. “I agree, Y/n. Don’t shoot for perfection.” 

“Says the woman eating seared Halibut at a convention center.” You said with a groan. Your manager oozed perfection no matter the situation.  

Cindy ignored the low chuckles floating around the room. “Just be your fun quirky self and you’ll be fine.” 

Easy for her to say. She wasn’t the one expected to face thousands of people in person and even more who were logging on to stream the segment. You felt ready to puke, especially when an event coordinator popped in to get you prepped for the stage.  

It was showtime whether you were ready or not.  

Cindy was the only familiar face backstage with you as multiple stagehands ran around performing sound checks, lighting, giving cues to the current guest on stage, etc.  

It was chaos and you were smack in the middle of it.  

Why couldn’t this be done on a smaller stage? You quickly reminded yourself that you were considered big league now. People paid to gain admission to your stage slot. Lots of people that required a large banquet hall to hold, thus a big fancy stage.  

You handed off your USB to a technician who disappeared inside a back room. Giant screens and professional effects were at work here, but it went all over your head. You were a ball of nerves ready to explode.  

Cindy took pity on your fourth pacing circuit and stepped in your path.  

“Y/n, you can do this. How many times have we practiced in my office?” Cindy frowned when you continued to pace, not hearing a word she said. “I’ll fetch you some water.” She sighed.  

She really hoped the problems in your life didn’t ruin this once in a lifetime experience.  

The second she stepped away, a tall man dressed in security garb walked past dragging you behind a large tote stack of equipment and out of sight of everyone backstage.  

The cautionary hand over your mouth fell when he tugged his face mask down to show himself. There was no need; you recognized those eyes from anywhere.  

“Joker?!” you hissed quietly. Thank God you weren’t hallucinating earlier! 

He silenced you with a much-needed kiss. His hands were balmy cupping your face and you melted into the comfort J provided. You whined when he pulled away.  

“Not so loud, Bunny.” He glanced around the totes to see if anyone heard your slip of the tongue. 

The coast was clear for now. “I had to check on ya.” He wrapped you up in his arms and rocked you gently in that silly way of his. It drew a giggle from you, just as planned. “You’ll do great. I. Know. It. Hey. Look at me, mmh?”  

You looked up on command. “There’s my girl. Go out there and have fun mkay?” He encouraged you to nod with him.  

Both of you heard a stagehand calling your name—breaking the stolen moment you had with Joker.  

He grumbled but kissed you one final time before pushing you back into the hustle and bustle. The stagehand sighed in relief seeing you reappear. There was no time to look for a missing presenter.  

They handed you a mic and Cindy gave you a thumbs up as a vocal announcer welcomed you on stage.  

You could hear the audience all riled up and excited. Was it too late to make a run for it? Joker’s words were the fuel to help you skip onto the stage.  

Cindy clapped along like any proud manager would, but her eyes flickered over to the dimly lit corner from where you mysteriously emerged from.  

What were you doing back there?  

Now was not the time to wonder. The audience was chanting your name, and you bashfully stood in the spotlight, soaking up the attention. 

Just like we rehearsed. Go out there and have fun. You were born ready for this. 

Everyone’s words of encouragement pounded in your head. You exhaled and raised the mic to your lips.  

“Hey hi and hello! Thank you all for your attendance! Wow, that sounds so academic. Am I a professor now?” Your natural rambling earned you a collective chuckle from the crowd. These were your fans and fellow readers who loved you unconditionally. Why were you worried? 

You shook your head to reset the speech engrained in your head. “Anyhoooo. Let’s try that again. Hey hi and hello, welcome to GothCon!!”  

The crowd roared their greeting, feeding off of your sudden burst of energy.  

“Alright that’s more like it! We made it to GothCon loves and if you follow me on socials.... I promised a big, huuuuuge surprise. So! Let’s discuss our favorite handsome trio. The boys have been up to no good! I mean.. Bill might be dead!”  

You paused for dramatic effect as girls screamed like mad. You paced the stage, giggling into the mic. You were known for being a troll and your fans loved it. 

“And we cannot forget about Hunter finding the connection to our world. Who knows.. he might hunt down the reader who’s responsible for these senseless murders.” You looked directly into the main camera so the haters (mostly Harvey Dent) could get the message.  

Your books were works of fiction despite it being the reader’s fault the in-book characters kept dying.  

“Now I think all of you would love a fourth installment..” The audience held their breath knowing something big was coming. The suspense was growing just like you rehearsed. You were a romance/thriller author after all.  

Someone in the crowd grew impatient and cried out, “OMG, I’m gunna die!”  

“Please don’t.” You replied just as quickly. That earned you another collective laugh.  

“Okay, I trolled you guys and gals for too long! My publisher house is partnering with The Wayne Enterprises... yeah that Wayne, to give us all what we’ve been craving.”  

You cued for the video to begin. The banquet hall’s lighting dimmed as the giant screens started to play your promo.  

The screen was stark white until it came alive with your distinct handwriting filling the screen. You worked with special effects and the graphic’s team to make this possible.  

Your own hand wrote out, Will. Hunter. Bill: Official Script and the crowd went insane.  

A clip of you and Wayne Enterprises production team brainstorming played on as it cut to show bullet points of potential actors you had in mind, teasers of storylines, and other goodies. The video was one big promo to announce the obvious. Your book series was green lit for film.  

The announcement was an instant hit.  

You were too busy watching your fans go berserk that you almost didn’t see the screen begin to glitch. Finally hearing the track skip made you react in your typical comical flair.  

“Woah, technical difficulties in 2024? That’s wild. Can we get this troubleshooted backstage, please?”  

You turned to the crowd to apologize when you noticed the horror on one girl's face in the front row. “What’s wrong?” 

She pointed up at the screen. You turned back around to witness your worst nightmare unfolding. 

The glitch was far worse than you imagined. Your movie promo was gone and recent pictures of you and Joker out and about, all of them depicting a red x crossing out J’s face, covered the screens. There were so many...  

You and Joker at the grocery store. At an amusement park near the apartment. Leaving Euphoria that night in Atlanta. Walking around together in Martha’s Vineyard. Shopping at Tiffany’s...  

Every private moment you spent with Joker was on display for everyone to see. Thankfully, his face wasn’t shown but the bloody red covering it made it clear that someone wanted him gone.  

And you didn’t have to guess who was behind this hack. The last picture shown made your blood run cold.  

You could never forget that day.  

You could still feel the silk dress against your legs and the weight of the arm slung over your shoulders. The picture was taken the day your life changed forever. You sat at the VIP booth in Vincent’s restaurant cuddled up with his nephew, Tyler Bicchieri. 

Your past self was smiling wide at the camera while the monster hidden in plain sight had his eyes firmly on you. His knowing grin sickened you.  

Joker didn’t care about the consequences. He saw the video glitch out and instantly reacted. The same pictures that were delivered to the beach house (along with some new additions) were being aired out for the world to see. It was a mild warning before. Now it was a promise.  

Your ex had declared war.  

Joker pushed his way past the backstage crew and actual security trying to bring peace to the assembly. A voice announcer was reminding the guests to remain calm as they experienced technical difficulties.  

Technicians were trying to shut down the video with little success. It was pure madness. The only thing on Joker’s mind was getting to you.  

You were frozen on stage, too horrified to scream. Your eyes were glued to the message blinking on screen. 

Can’t hide forever honeydew. I’ll see you soon. 

Joker radioed for Frost and the others to have the car ready as he picked you up bridal style and fled the scene.  

[djarincore]

Drawings

summary: You buy Grogu art supplies.

word count: 678

tags: pure fluff, gn!reader, crayons exist in the sw universe bc i said so

a/n: part of my 500 words a day series. the letter is D for drawings!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The brand-new Nevarro marketplace was bustling with vibrant life. You swept through the crowd with Grogu in your arms, looking for things that would brighten up your new home. On your way to the florist, a smaller stall filled with art supplies caught your eye. 

After being on the run for so long, it would be nice for Grogu to get to be a child for once and do normal childlike activities. You and Din already enrolled him in the local school and the supplies would be useful as well. You looked over the many different mediums laid out on the table. 

“Do you want to try watercolors or crayons, Grogu? Or maybe acrylics?” You tapped your chin. His babble did not offer much help for your indecision, but you came to a decision soon enough. 

—

“I’m home!” You announced, balancing a bouquet of red and yellow flowers in one arm along with a bag filled to the brim with half the art supply stall and Grogu in the other. You made your way to the kitchen and set him down on his high chair. 

Din appeared from the bedroom, helmet-free, and rushed to take the overflowing flowers from you. “I could have helped you carry all this.”

“We could handle it.” You turned to Grogu, setting down the bag of art supplies in front of him. “Right, sweetheart?”

“What are these?” Din peeked inside the bag and pulled out a pan of watercolors. He inspected the box as if he’d never seen them before. You supposed being brought up under the Creed and being a bounty hunter most of his life didn’t allow time for leisurely activities like coloring. Maybe arts and crafts would be good for both boys. 

“For Grogu, figured it’d be a nice little hobby for him.” You took out the stack of papers you bought and the rest of the supplies, laying it all out on the table for Grogu to choose from. He grabbed for a silver marker, fumbling with it a bit, teething on the cap. You helped him uncap it and drew a simple circle. “See? You can draw with it.” 

When you placed the marker back in his hand, he recreated your circle, a bit lopsided and wobbly. You clapped your hands and cheered, “Perfect! Good job, bug.” 

He let out a cheerful giggle and continued dragging the marker across the page in random directions. 

Din chuckled. “He’ll be an artist in no time.”

The two of you got to work preparing dinner, leaving Grogu to continue drawing at the table. You would occasionally glance back at his artwork, seeing the new colors he was using and attempting to decipher what he was drawing. Din guessed it was a mountain and you chose a tree.

By the time you were setting the table, he’d gone through several sheets of paper, filled with various scribbles and colors. 

You plucked the marker from his hand and shook your head when he whined. “You’ll get to draw after dinner.”

Neither of you would have imagined the monster you created by giving him art supplies. He drew day and night, changing mediums and improving by the day. You and Din would sit and draw with him whenever you were free, praising each abstract doodle and painting. But, his paper supply was running thin and you were planning to take a trip to the market again. 

“Hey!” 

You poked your head into the living room to find Din crouched by the front door, running his finger across a blob of green marker colored onto the wall. As you approached, you realized it was not just a blob, but a head with two long ears sticking out. On either side of the head was another drawing that looked suspiciously like Din’s helmet and your face. 

“A family portrait?” You mused, a proud smile forming on your lips as you crouched beside the two. You picked up a red marker and uncapped it to draw a large heart around the three heads. 

“Hm,” Din hummed, “Perfect.”

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

“Pizza’s on the way,” Eddie announces. He flops down on the sofa, crashing right into Billy’s side and smiling when the little outburst goes unnoticed. “I got mushrooms and cherry tomatoes like you like.”

Without looking up from his book, Billy hums. Turns the page gently while Eddie noses a kiss against his cheek.

“Did you get plain cheese for Stevie?” Billy asks.

“Yup, with stuffed crusts.”

Billy nods once. Zones back into his book, if the way that his breathing softens is any indication. Eddie scoots closer. Glances at the page and implements the five finger rule that Billy showed him — and determines before he’s even halfway down that this book is way over his head.

“Dude, what kind of Old Testament shit is this?”

It takes Billy a moment to finish the sentence that he’s reading before his eyes stop skimming back and forth.

“The Vampyre by John Polidori,” Billy says. “It’s the original vampire novel.”

“I thought Dracula was the original vampire.”

Billy taps the page lightly with his thumb.

“This was like seventy years before Bram Stoker’s Dracula was published. Stoker’s novel is actually considered an adaptation of this one.”

Eddie nods. Leans his head against Billy’s shoulder and wraps his arms around him.

“Then why not just read Dracula?”

“Because I’m reading it next.”

“God, you’re such a goth, y’know that?”

A small smile blooms on Billy’s face as he shakes his head.

“I don’t listen to the music.”

“C’mon, I’ve heard you bopping to Siouxsie and the Banshees before.”

“One of Max’s mixes,” Billy excuses.

“The Cure?”

“Jonathan left his tape in my car and I haven’t given it back yet.”

There’s a slight pause. Eddie sits up enough to look at his partner, quirking a brow.

“Since when do you hang around Byers?”

Billy purses his lips.

“I don’t. He works part-time at the library.”

“He’s showing you music in your car.” Eddie spreads a grin and Billy’s face begins to burn a flustered shade of red. “You have a little crush on him, don’t you?” When Billy doesn’t say anything, Eddie snickers. “You definitely have a type, that’s all I’m saying.”

“No I don’t.”

“No you don’t have a crush on him or no you don’t have a type?”

Billy huffs and waves Eddie off with his hand.

“Either.”

“Lanky brunets,” Eddie lilts. “Typically of the brooding persuasion.”

“You do not brood, Munson, you’re the most bubbly motherfucker on the planet.”

“That’s why I said typically, babe, let’s try and keep up.” Eddie nuzzles closer and chews his lip. “Y’know, mostly based on Steve and Jonathan. Maybe a little bit of Hagan.”

“You’re putting way too much thought into this.”

“There’s definitely a pattern, wouldn’t you say? Lanky brunets…” Eddie wonders. “Brooding, pale skin, brown eyes…”

Billy’s eyes stay locked on the page that he hasn’t finished reading yet, jaw set as Eddie tippy-taps his fingers against the blond’s chest.

“Is your type just… vampires?” Eddie muses.

“Energy vampires, maybe,” Billy grumbles. He dog-ears the page and finally shuts his book, laying it in his lap. “But no.”

Eddie chuckles. Flattens his hand against Billy’s sternum and smooths his palm back and forth.

“Seems like it to me.”

“This may surprise you, but I’m not so shallow that I only care about looks.”

“So…” Eddie trails off. “There’s an outlier.”

“Edd—“

“Who is it?”

“I’m not doing this right now.”

“You’re my boyfriend, you’re contractually obligated to tell me about your hot man crushes.”

Billy presses his lips together and doesn’t budge when Eddie tries to shake an answer out of him. Eddie is about to start more roughly demanding when the doorbell rings, and it derails his train of thought long enough for Billy to slip away from him.

The blond jumps up from his seat to answer the door, practically ripping the door off of its hinges when he opens it. Light pours into the entryway, obstructed by a tall figure.

“Thanks for ordering Surfer Boy Pizza where we make everything fresh except…” the voice trails off momentarily, nearly cut off by the bubbly laugh that exits the guy’s lips. “‘Sup, lil’ dude!”

A hand shoots out to fist bump Billy, which he barely reacts fast enough to reciprocate. Still, the blond spreads a dopey little smile.

“Hey, Argyle,” he greets. Soft, for how flustered he is.

“Man, I didn’t know you lived right here or I would’ve been hopping the fence for backyard smoke seshes.”

Billy fishes his wallet out of his pocket.

“Yeah, it’s kind of a new situation. Still getting settled.” Which is technically true if you count the box that’s been sitting unpacked in the corner for two weeks. “You should still come by sometime, though. When, uh… you’re not working, obviously.”

“Def!” Argyle says. “That’ll be fourteen fifty, bro.”

Billy digs in his wallet for a moment before he slaps a couple of bills in the other guy’s hand, which he trades the pizza for.

“Keep the change.”

Argyle furrows his brows.

“You gave me thirty.”

“Then I guess you have some extra cash for snacks when we hang out,” Billy lilts.

Argyle nods. Spreads a grin as he pockets the cash and fist bumps Billy once more.

“Sweet,” he says, and turns on his heel. “I’ll be seeing you around, lil’ dude!”

Billy waves briefly before he kicks the door shut, turning to walk into the kitchen and stopping in his tracks when he sees Eddie smirking at him from the couch.

The blond’s face turns ten different shades of red in a matter of seconds.

“The pizza guy, huh?” Eddie teases. “I see it.”

“I haven’t seen him much since I left Cali, alright? He just moved in with Jonathan and I haven’t had time to visit.”

“Right.”

Billy shifts his weight on his feet, furrowing his brows.

“Am I under investigation or something?”

“Nerds.”

“What?”

“Nerds. That’s your type. You like ‘em kinda dorky and way too interested in their hobbies.”

Billy scoffs.

“Stevie isn’t a nerd.”

“He’s a sports guy. You can twist it how you want, but he’s a nerd about it.”

“Tommy, then.”

“Too into cars.”

“Jon— actually, I understand that one, but Argyle is definitely not a nerd.”

Eddie chuckles and leans his elbow against the armrest, setting his chin in his hand thereafter.

“How many weed strands can that guy name? More than I can, and I can name a lot.” Eddie clicks his tongue when Billy has no counter argument. “Plus, he’s super passionate about his job. He talked my ear off about toppings for twenty minutes one time when I called in.”

Billy sighs. Sets the pizza down on the counter and crosses his arms, clearly working things over in his head. Eddie gets up in the meantime and strolls over. Gently pushes a stray curl out of Billy’s face before he laces his arms around his neck.

“Jokes aside, I think it’s nice that you like so many different people.”

Blue eyes meet his, and Billy softens. Sets his hands on Eddie’s hips.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, I mean, you have lots of love to give, y’know? Of course it’s spilling over, sweetheart. Your cup is full.”

Billy chews his lip thoughtfully.

“I never looked at it that way before.”

Eddie leans closer. Kisses the corner of his partner’s mouth while he toys with a lock of his hair, soft to the touch and free of product.

“Glad my ramblings were of use to you,” Eddie chuckles. “Wanna have a sit-down with sleeping beauty after dinner? Talk some strats for getting you out of the friend zone?”

“I dunno if I wanna do that.”

“I’m pretty sure Steve’s had the hots for Tommy for a while now, so maybe we can knock everything out all at once.”

Billy raises an eyebrow.

“You’re not crushing on anyone? I might have to do some digging on you too, Munson, mister hopeless romantic.”

“I’m fine with bothering you two for eternity. I’m actually making it my life’s goal as we speak.”

“Of course you are.”

Billy ropes him closer, pulls him up to his tippy toes so he can press his lips to his neck — one of Eddie’s many, many weaknesses.

One of the others is, unfortunately, being manhandled. Even though Billy is gentle, it sends a thrill down Eddie’s spine when he’s lifted effortlessly.

“Want me to pay you back for the pizza?” Eddie breathes.

He makes a surprised noise when a large hand squeezes his ass.

“Keep your money, baby,” Billy lilts. Low and affectionate and now Eddie is the one getting flustered. “Wanna go wake Stevie up so we can eat and have our little discussion?”

Eddie nods. Shudders when Billy mouths at his throat and holds him ever closer.

“Yeah…” he manages.

Then Billy releases him. Let’s his socked feet touch the floor once again before he’s patting his behind and ushering him out of the kitchen.

Eddie has this sneaking suspicion that they’re gonna do way more than talk after they eat.

[thethirdgenesisbooks]

How to Put Words in Your Book - 5 Tips to Actually Start Writing

There is a problem among a great many writers and aspiring authors: so many of us never actually put any words into a Word document. Some writers will spend years developing a story idea. They’ll think of everything; the world-building, the characters, moving scenes, but never actually sit down to write the story.

Sometimes this comes from a lack of confidence. Writers think, “What if my story isn’t good enough?” These writers need to realize that the only thing worse than a bad story is the story that’s never written at all. For other writers, the reason why they can’t seem to actually get anything written is because while they know where the story has to go, they don’t know how to start. For still others, the problem is simply a matter of motivation.

Here are five tips to help you get your story rolling:

1 - Read the Opening of Someone Else’s Novel.

Sometimes, it can be hard to know what sorts of details to introduce first in your story. Do you start with a physical description of the character? A quote? A scene with characters in peril? Seeing how other authors started off their books can be helpful in this regard. I’d recommend reading the opening of a novel in a different genre from the one you’re writing. That way, you aren’t tempted to borrow too heavily, and can focus on putting out your own material.

2 - Listen to Music.

My wife and I developed this game that we sometimes play that utilizes her skills as a musician and mine as an author. I’ll sit or lie down on the couch with my eyes closed, and she’ll start playing an original, improvised piece of music on the piano. As I listen to the tune, I’ll start to describe a scene that the music brings to mind and tell a short story. Similarly, whenever I sit down to write one of my books, I listen to instrumental music that’s appropriate to the story I’m working on. I recommend that if you choose to use music to inspire your writing, you make sure it has no lyrics, as your writing may start to reflect the words you hear. I also recommend not using music that you associate with a particular scene. For example, when I tried writing while listening to “The Barber of Seville,” all I could see when I closed my eyes was Bugs Bunny shaving Elmer Fudd. You want music into which you can put your own meaning.

3 - If You are Spiritual, Pray or Meditate.

This piece of advice is pretty simple. If you are a spiritual or religious person, then before you write take a moment to stop and either pray or meditate. There’s a reason the Greeks thought goddesses called “muses” inspired art. The right side of the brain is associated with creativity, intuition, and spirituality. So, activate that side of your brain by doing something spiritual. Personally, when I was writing the first novel in my Third Genesis fantasy series, I prayed every time that “words would flow from my fingers to the page.” Most days, I wrote around 3,000 words in that book.

4 - When Stuck, Get Up and Walk.

You’d be surprised what even the tiniest amount of exercise can do for you. Do you have stairs in your home? Walk up and down a few times. Do you have a stationary bike? Ride it a little. Any form of exercise, however small, can get your mind going.

5 - Act Out the Scene.

Do you know your characters well enough to know how they speak to each other, what their goals are, and what they want out of life? Then play pretend for a bit, as you might well have done when you were a child. Improvise the scene, and pretend that you are all of the characters in the scene engaged in a discussion or struggle. You may find that you’re not good at improvising their dialogue, but that’s alright. When you say it out loud, you’ll get a better idea of what’s natural conversation. You’ll also gain some insights into what the characters would or wouldn’t do, based on what they want.

These are just a few things you could try to get the creative juices flowing. All of these have worked well for me. Good luck and happy writing!

[joemerl]

OC-Tober 2023, Day 20: "Rebel(lious)"

OC/WIP: "The Werewolf WIP," Con plus Randall talking about Curtis. Word count: 405 Author's notes: Happy birthday to Con, the only one of these three whose birthday is firmly decided. This prompt doesn't work well for him, but I eventually came up with something that actually foreshadows the story a bit.

"It ain't fair," Con whined, sitting cross-legged on his bed and crossing his arms over his chest. "You let Curtis do whatever he wants."

Randall scoffed, sitting down beside him. "That's funny. He says the same thing about you." He patted his youngest brother on the shoulder. "Look, don't get bent outta shape. Curtis is a teenager. He's just going through his rebellious phase."

"What' doe's that mean?"

"That he don't do a damn thing I tell him."

Con frowned thoughtfully.

"Is he gonna run away?"

Randall blinked. "Huh? No. Why? He say something about that?"

"No, but when real wolves—the kid wolves start not listening to the dad wolf, a lot of times it means they wanna leave and start their own wolf packs. So the dad wolf has to fight them and hold them down and scare them into staying."

Randall snorted.

"You could probably do that with Curtis," Con added, reasonably.

Randall tussled Con's hair. "Probably. But we ain't real wolves, little cub. Werewolves stick together. And the last thing Curtis would want to do start his own werewolf—club."

"What about when one of y'all get married?"

"What about it?"

"Then will y'all start your own packs?"

"Our wives wouldn't be werewolves. And I don't...think...our kids would be either." Randall made a face, the full meaning of which Con wasn't really able to understand. Regaining his smile, Randall patting him on the back and added, "Anyway, ain't no reason to worry about that yet. Curtis is only fourteen. It'll be a long time before we even have to think about the family breaking up. Okay?"

"Okay."

Randall got up and trudged out of the room. Con remained on his bed, but scooted closer to the nightstand to grab one of his books about wolves. Flipping through the pages, he mused that he was probably happy Curt wasn't going to run away and start his own werewolf pack. Even if it would be more fun with just him and Randall, especially when he started changing himself in a few weeks.

Then he wondered, quite suddenly, if he would want to start his own werewolf pack someday, when he was grown up and had kids who hopefully would be werewolves too.

He paused, staring ahead at the wall, then went back to his book.

For now, at least, it was too weird of a thought for the six-year-old to consider.

[12timetraveler]

Wait For Me: Epilogue Part 1

Summary:

Surprise! Bet you didn't expect to see me back here, huh? Yeah well neither did I. I'm just as surprised haha.

I was content with how I ended this story. But then I came up with a couple little moments between Albert and Reader that both required context from this story, so I couldn't just add them into my Fleeting Moments collection. I decided I'll tack them on as little epilogues to the story.

This one takes place a little over a year after Reader leaves with Albert. This is before they have their daughter. She's probably not even a thought at this point.

The epilogue can be read here, or on the main work on AO3

~~~~~~~

1901

"It's here!" Albert cheered as he practically skipped through the front door of the cabin. He set down a couple letters along with a parcel wrapped in brown paper. He'd ridden into town that morning to get the mail and grab a few essentials from the general store. It was the middle of winter and you were between snowstorms it seemed. He took advantage of the clear skies to run into town before you got snowed in again. You would have gone with but you were busy butchering a deer you'd killed for food.

"What is it?" You laughed, watching your excitable husband kick off his snow boots and wriggle out of his coat.

"Ooo we've been waiting for this," he chirped, finally getting down to his sweater. He picked up the package and sat down on the couch. "Here it is, my muse," Albert said, unwrapping the parcel. "The first print of my first book,"

"Oh my god. It's here already?" you asked excitedly, coming to sit on his lap so he could show you. You were so proud of him. His first photo book. Apparently it was all the rage in society. Something for rich people to put on their coffee tables and titter about over drinks. Most books were landscape photos, or portraits of significant people. Albert's was the first to contain wild animals.

Creatures of the Wild Frontier

The title was embossed on the front of the dark green book in big silver letters. Albert's name was embossed on the bottom.

"It's beautiful," you murmured, running your fingers over the indent of the letters.

"Isn't it? So elegant. The publisher had shown me what it would look like but even still it's... Unbelievable," Albert hummed, tracing the spine of the book.

He reverently lifted the cover to view the front page. There was some text at the top, with Albert's most popular picture, the one of the wolves, below.

Dedicated to my dear wife and her late brother. Without either of them I'd never have completed the project without becoming some creature's meal.

Your name and Arthur's name were both printed below the dedication.

You giggled as you read it.

"I thought calling Arthur your brother would be the easiest way," he hummed. You nodded and kissed his cheek.

"It's lovely. Thank you,"

"No, my love, thank you. Truly. Without you I'd never have finished it," he leaned up and kissed you properly, on the lips. You carded your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly.

"Alright, let's see the rest of it," you chirped as you pulled back. Albert grinned and the two of you settled in to start flipping through the book.

Albert tried to flip through quickly, but you made him go slowly so you could appreciate each photo. You'd seen them all before but you loved looking at his photography.

The horses running across Heartland Overflow.

The bear you helped him photograph by O'Creighs run.

A couple different shots of alligators.

Each photo was familiar but still left you breathless. He was such a master of his craft, even if he was a bit of a fool in nature. His photos were so beautiful, so unique. So unlike anything else you'd ever seen. Each one captured the animal so well.

Unfortunately Albert didn't seem to be enjoying looking through the book nearly as much as you were. He was deflating a little with each photo.

"What's wrong?" You asked, closing the book and giving him your full attention.

"It's... It's nothing, my muse," he sighed dejectedly.

"Clearly it ain't nothing," you sighed, rubbing the back of his neck soothingly. "Is something wrong with the book?"

"No it... No..." Albert hummed. You waited for him to collect his thoughts, say what was on his mind. "It's just a... A monument to my mediocrity," he huffed, setting the book aside.

"Oh Albert,"

"Seeing all my photos all together just serves to remind me how... How poorly I capture the creatures. How... How foolish and talentless I am," Albert scrubbed his face with his free hand, his other arm still wrapped around your waist. You recognized the familiar spiral Albert seemed to fall down. Always so hard on himself. His own worst critic.

"Don't talk like that," you huffed, cupping his face in your hands and forcing him to look at you. "You know the people love your photos. Your galleries have been so popular and people have been paying through the nose for prints of your photographs. People are going to love this book," you said. "The publisher said there are already orders out for it. The people are going to go absolutely crazy to have your photos in your house,

"You are the most talented photographer I've ever met. You photograph life, as it's happening. Nature shots and portraits may have their own challenges but you photograph moving, living things. And you do it so well," you grabbed the book off the coffee table and set it in your lap. "Look at this one on the front page. The wolves charging forward, ready to pounce. It's so beautiful, so life-like. It's not some posed, propped-up figurine, it's real and it's wild. Your photos are so special, Albert," you let the book balance on your lap so you could cup his face in your hands once more.

Albert sighed and melted into your touch. It wasn't the first time you'd had to reassure him and certainly wouldn't be the last. You'd come to learn that artists of all kinds seemed to share one thing in common: self loathing. They never thought their work was good enough, no matter the medium. You did your best to hype Albert up, but it was likely something he'd be struggling with forever.

"You're quite right, my love," he sighed. "Thank you." He leaned up and kissed your cheek. "I'm sorry. It's just... I feel like such an imposter sometimes,"

"I know," you cooed. "It's alright. That's what I'm here for. I'll pull against those voices any time you need,"

You leaned down and pulled Albert in for a long kiss. He cupped the back of your head, tilting you down toward him. You were not the first to pull back. You let Albert take what he needed from the kiss.

After some time Albert broke the kiss, resting his head against your chest. You cradled his head there, holding him close and resting your lips against the top of his head.

"Alright," Albert finally said. "Shall we look at the rest of the book?"

You giggled and nodded, picking up the book from where it rested on your lap and opening it up, flipping back to where you left off.

Together the two of you admired the photos. You even managed to coax Albert into complimenting parts of each photo. The crispness of a creature, the composition of the background, just little things.

The last two photos in the book were a little different.

"Hang on," you chuckled as you turned the page. "These aren't wild animals,"

"Aren't they?" He teased.

There you were looking at a photo of yourself on one page, and a photo of Arthur on the next. You'd seen the photo of Arthur before at Albert's gallery. It was from the first time they'd met. A photo of a wild mountain man.

You remembered the photo of you. It was taken not long after Sean died, before the failed Saint Denis bank job. You sat stop Cloudhopper, the wind in your hair, guns at your hips, arms outstretched. The flowers bent gently around Cloudhopper's hooves and his tail fluttered in the breeze.

Below the photo of you the text said

My darling wild wife, with your name.

And below Arthur's photo it said.

Arthur Morgan; the wild man who saved my life.

"This is probably my favorite photo," Albert hummed, thumbing idly at the page with your photo. "So radiant. So powerful. Like a knight atop her noble steed. I just had to include you and Arthur in the photo book," he smiled up at you. "The most wild people I know. Without either of you I'd likely be dead by now. Even if by some miracle I'd survived, I wouldn't be who I am without you,"

"You sentimental fool" you giggled, setting the book aside and shifting how you were sitting so you could straddle his lap. You grabbed his face and kissed him fiercely.

"I always have been," he chuckled, pulling you snuggly against his lap so he could kiss you even deeper.

[baihuamp]

mobile navigation: (best to copy the link and open it in a browser, i think the link will just take you straight back to the home page otherwise.)

intro (you’re here!) bio connections plots threads aesthetics pinterest playlist [work in progress!] muse document [open on desktop, mobile will not display correctly—still a work in progress]

more links coming soon!

summarized bio and history (read the full length edition here!):

mbti: ? enneagram: ? alignment: ? soul type: ? archetype: ? zodiac: ? gender: cis male, he/him sexuality: panromantic demisexual roles: son of yue lao

bio.

FC NAME/GROUP: Choi Yeonjun / TXT CHARACTER NAME: Bai Hua - 白 [white, pure] 华 [splendid, illustrious] AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 22 / 2000.11.17 PLACE OF BIRTH: Hong Kong OCCUPATION: Shop Clerk at JINXXED HEIGHT: 5’11” WEIGHT: 130 lbs DEFINING FEATURES: Pierced ears: two on the left, three on the right. Has a red thread tattoo spiraling up his right arm. PERSONALITY: Hua is charming to a T—of course he is, being a son of Yue Lao. At first glance, his outgoing, easy nature seems genuine, almost like he’s actually invested in the conversation. Look a little closer, and you’ll see that charm is actually cleverly disguised manipulation. A matchmaker by trade, he’s quite the sycophant: saying what people want to hear with no qualms about what it may be; cold, calculated, and secretive. On top of all of this, he treats life as a game. It’s all predestined anyway, so might as well have some fun, right? He also likes to play with fire—both literally and figuratively. He generally carries a box of matches around with him, and knows a shitload of finger tricks; whirling the match between his knuckles, darting fingers in and out of the flame, the list goes on and on. Figuratively is a bit harder to explain: Hua is somewhat of an oxymoron when it comes to conversing. If you can visualize the phrase “superficial charm,” that’s him. He knows what people want to hear, and has no trouble telling them those things, even if he doesn’t believe a word of what’s coming out of his mouth. But if he figures out that has no effect on someone, then he is the fiercest arguer in the world.

HISTORY: CWs: abusive parenting, cults Bai Hua has always known where he came from. Why should he know anything different? It is a formative part of who he is, and he would do well to remember that. He grew up in Hong Kong as an only child with a single mother. She was strict, generally choosing to be brutally honest with him. He was told all about his powers from a young age; she made sure he knew what it was he could do and how exactly best to wield them. Because of them, he was homeschooled; as she explained, he needed to understand himself before he could understand others. And the extent of “himself,” of course, consisted of his powers. While growing up in Hong Kong, he fell in with a cult for a bit. His mother was a member, and she made sure to bring him in. A religious group, devoted to the worship of Yue Lao. He never informed them of his heritage, choosing to silently observe from the outside; his mother seemed keen to tell the others, but he managed to convince her not to. The members never pushed for him to join, as for most of his tenure there, he was very young; he didn’t seem keen to join, either, preferring to stick to the side and watch the ongoings. Something about what they were doing didn’t sit right with him, even then, so he generally tries not to think about it too much. (Now that he’s learning, he knows that feeling is guilt. He shoves it away. Those feelings are too complicated to unravel right now.) He has never met his father, although he’s heard many stories about him. His mother was constantly talking about how incredible his father was. He was often scolded for not living up to her sky-high expectations. Now that he’s gotten some distance from her, he’s starting to wonder if she didn’t want him to be a mini carbon copy of Yue Lao. (She did.) He chronically looks down on people. He doesn’t have anything against humanity, per se, but when you’ve grown up only hearing how above mankind you are—or, alternatively, how you’re the worst scum on this side of the heavenly plane—it tends to get in your head. Now, he is finally starting to feel remorse after negative interactions. Being separated from his mother for the first time in his life is opening his eyes, slowly but surely. (But it hurts. He falls back into age-old patterns frequently. It’s going to take a lot for him to change.) Homeschooled for all his life, Hua had eagerly been waiting for the day his mother would allow him to travel to Mount Phoenix. Unfortunately, she insisted on him getting a “thorough” education, and so in Hong Kong he remained until he was 19, when he finally traveled to Mount Phoenix to begin his tenure at Phoenix Academy. Little did he know how much he still had left to learn.

PANTHEON: Chinese CHILD OF: Yue Lao, god of love and marriage POWERS:

Strand Sight : He has always seen the strings, shining like strands of spiderweb in the moonlight. They glisten with a silvery glow, and he smiles knowingly when he notices them. He believes it is his duty to push together those that are destined.

Charisma : He knows how to easily become friends with anyone. His enhanced charisma pushes his already charming personality to eleven, when he chooses to use it.

STRENGTHS: Charming, outgoing, easy-natured, matchmaker WEAKNESSES: Manipulative, secretive, a fierce enemy, cold, calculated, sycophant

wanted connections.

I LOVED YOU LIKE THE SUN | CLOSED Someone who is just so happy that Hua is amusingly intrigued by you. There is no ulterior motive for his friendship, for once—he just genuinely doesn’t understand your constant excitement. Is it naïvety? Is it drugs? He supposes he’ll just have to spend more time with you to figure it out. (SUN/MOON FRIENDSHIP)

MY ANCIENT HISTORY | OPEN (STUDENTS) You two were together back in Hong Kong for a while. It was off and on, but you really thought he loved you. He broke up with you, citing his reasoning as the relationship “never felt real to him.” You were about to call it quits anyway, as his self-destructive habits were starting to worry you, but he never gave you the chance. Now, you’ve reunited and—worse yet—you’re sitting next to each other in the same class. (EX-LOVERS)

BLOSSOMS | OPEN You’re opening his eyes, that’s the blunt truth of it. Whether he likes it or not, you are making him realize that not everything is how he was taught to believe it is. The world is much less black and white than he’s been led to believe. He’s going to fight you every step of the way…but deep down, he knows it’s worth it. (DEBASTARDIZATION ARC)

GOOD ENOUGH | CLOSED (STUDENTS) Top of your year in every class…except for this one. You’ve been in the same class as Hua off and on throughout your university careers, and the two of you have consistently been vying for top marks. In this one, he’s seemed to have you beat. And he takes no small pleasure in rubbing that in your face every chance he gets. (ACADEMIC RIVALS)

O SOLE MIO | CLOSED Fate, destiny—Hua doesn’t need to believe in it to know it’s true, he can see it. But he’s never been able to see his own. He has no idea where his own soul string leads, where the partner at the end of his heart’s thread may lie. Perhaps you’d be willing to check? (SOULMATES - INTERNAL)

INTERPOLATION | OPEN (2 PEOPLE) Every time he sees you, Hua gets this knowing smile on his face. It’s starting to freak you out, if you’re honest. What’s worse is that he seems to be overly pushy, but not towards you—no. He’s trying to get you to go out with another person. The only thing is that they don’t seem to be friends, or even really know each other. Why? What does he have invested in this relationship? (SOULMATES - EXTERNAL)

[basil-thoth]

Page 16: an attempt was made

Previous: Page 15

Next: Page 17

Masterpost here

Transcript under the cut!

Author’s note: From here on, Subject 1 will be referred to as “1-S” and Subject 2 will be referred to as “2-P”. Gaster refers to each with both names, but for the sake of simplicity, I will refer to them as 1-S and 2-P. 

Panel 1: [Gaster and 1-S are sitting at a table. 1-S is working on a stack of worksheets while Gaster reviews multiple charts, graphs, and notes while drinking from a mug that reads “World’s Best Dad Scientist. Gaster has 1-S’s SOUL locked in blue magic once again. Gaster seems generally disinterested, with one leg crossed over the other and his other arm resting on the table. 1-S looks at him accusatorily.]

1-S: why did you do that to him? he never did anything to you. he didn't deserve that.

Gaster: And you did? Does only his suffering matter to you? Interesting.

1-S: why did you make us? why are you doing this to us? 

Panel 2: [1-S makes a doubtful and confused face.]

1-S: ...is someone /making/ you do this? is that it?

Panel 3: [Gaster simply observes as 1-S makes his musings.]

1-S: do you not have a choice?

Panel 4: [Gaster suddenly jumps in surprise as his phone starts buzzing from his pocket. In his surprise, he seems to have released the blue magic keeping 1-S at the table.]

Panel 5: [Gaster sets his cup of coffee on the table while he pulls a blue flip-phone from his pocket. 1-S stares in confusion. It’s likely he’s never seen a phone before.]

Gaster: ...I thought I turned this off-

Panel 6: [We get to see Gaster’s phone screen. It reads: INCOMING CALL: ALPHYS. Below is a small line: loading wdalphys.exe…]

Panel 7: [The phone loads the WDAlphys program. The screen says: W D ALPHYS! VER 0.34 waiwai!! On either side of the graphic is a pixel art of Gaster on the left and Alphys on the right. They’re smiling with their arms held up, and a heart floats above their heads. Below the pictures says: Scanning for magical signature… Please touch your phone now, Dr. Gaster! =^.^=]

Panel 8-9: [Gaster stands up and presses a few buttons on his phone, which makes a few digital beeps and dits. He conjures three magical hands, one to hold the phone, and two more to sign for the phone. The program reads the magic signature of his hands while he uses sign language to translate it over on Alphys’ side of the line. This way, he can communicate using a telephone. Meanwhile, 1-S’s mind is blown.]

Gaster (signing): Yes, Dr. Alphys, what is it?

Panel 10: [Gaster turns his back to 1-S, still looking very confused, and continues his conversation with his colleague.]

Gaster: ...Yes, I'm fine. Is something wrong? 

Gaster: ...Late? Late for what? 

Panel 11: [1-S stares for a bit, watching.]

Gaster: Yes, but that's tomorrow, isn't it?

Panel 12: [1-S carefully eyes the doorway…]

Gaster: ...is it really...? Are you sure? 

Panel 13: [1-S slowly stands up. Gaster is still looking away from him, pressing his hand to his head in frustration as he keeps talking to Alphys over the phone.]

Gaster: ...I... I must have lost track of time... 

Gaster: ...I know, it's not like me, but I... I haven't gotten much sleep lately. 

Panel 14: [1-S runs down the hallway and away from Gaster. Gaster doesn’t notice.]

Gaster:  No, I'm alright, don't worry. I'm fine. I've just... had a lot on my mind…

Panel 15: [We see 2-P by himself in the cell. He seems to have been crying, either from pain from the handplate, or separation anxiety from 1-S, or perhaps both.]

1-S: bro! bro!

Panel 16: [2-P jumps to his feet excitedly, looking at 1-S on the outside of the forcefield.] 

2-P: BROTHER!! HOW DID YOU GET OUTSIDE?

[1-S is excitedly gesticulating back towards the other room.]

1-S: i snuck away while he wasn't looking- i'm gonna get you out, okay? then we're gonna get out of here!

2-P: OH, YAY! BUT... HOW?

Panel 17: [1-S touches a hand to his chin, trying to come up with a plan.]

1-S: um... i'm still working on that part. maybe-

1-S: uh... he does something to the wall when he opens it, doesn't he?

Panel 18: [2-P gestures to the electric panel on the wall to the right of the forcefield.]

2-P: YEAH, HE TOUCHES THAT THING OVER THERE, I THINK. MAYBE PUT YOUR HAND ON IT!

Panel 19: [2-P watches excitedly as 1-S puts his right hand on the wall and reaches up to touch the panel with his left hand. But, only one of the three lights come on, and the forcefield does not deactivate.]

1-S: ok... mmph! ...it's not working, only one of the lights went on!

2-P: TRY USING TWO HANDS!

Panel 20: [1-S looks confused at the suggestion, pulling his hand away from the panel briefly.]

1-S: he only uses one though.

2-P: WELL HIS HANDS ARE BIG! YOU HAVE LITTLE BABY HANDS.

Panel 21: [2-P holds both of his hands up placatingly. 1-S looks offended at the insinuation of him having baby hands.]

1-S: i do not have baby hands!

Panel 22: [2-P smirks a little, wiggling his fingers mockingly.]

2-P: YOU HAVE THE MOST ITTY-BITTY HANDS, BROTHER, LIKE TINY LITTLE-

Panel 23: [2-P becomes shocked, looking past 1-S. His eyes glow purple a bit, indicating a sudden bolt of fear.]

2-P: AAAAHH!!

Panel 24: [1-S’s SOUL has been turned blue and he’s magically pulled away from the doorway into the air. His eyes light up into sudden rings of purple. 2-P watches in horror.]

1-S: hgh- no!!!

Gaster: Apparently I'm going to have to keep a closer eye on you. You're slipperier than I thought.

Panel 25: [Gaster appears in the hallway and levitates 1-S a few feet off the ground. 1-S reaches desperately for his brother but to no avail.

1-S: no- no i was so close-!

Panel 26: [2-P looks up fearfully, clutching his right hand. Gaster looks down at him. 1-S is still being levitated and is kicking while clutching his chest, as if struggling will loosen Gaster’s magical hold on him. His face is screwed up in concentration.]

2-P: ARE... ARE WE IN TROUBLE...?

Panel 27: [1-S angrily looks at Gaster, still struggling in mid-air.]

Gaster: Yes. Under other circumstances, it'd be sufficient to punish only you, Subject 1, but your frailty makes it difficult. So…

Panel 28: [2-P looks up at Gaster fearfully.]

Gaster: You BOTH will be coming with me.

Panel 29: [Gaster places his hand on the panel. All three lights easily light up and deactivate the forcefield. 1-S desperately reaches towards Gaster, trying to stop him.]

1-S: don't- don't hurt him!!

1-S: he didn't even do anything- he didn't DO ANYTHING!!

Panel 30: [Gaster turns towards 1-S and looks him in the eye.]

Gaster: Think about that the next time you try to run from me. 

Panel 31: [Gaster escorts 2-P out of the cell and leads him down the hallway, still carrying 1-S by magic. 2-P’s head is hung low but he complies. 1-S has curled into the fetal position, defeated.] Gaster: Come on.

[Previously] [Next, kind of]

Horseshoes and hand grenades, Sans. This one falls sometime after the plate aftermath, though it’s not a direct continuation, exactly.

The WD Alphys app is something that Alphys and Gaster have been working on together to let them communicate via phone, since Alphys can’t speak Wingdings (I’m starting to think that only font skeletons can speak wingdings, actually). Once it keys into Gaster’s magical signature, it follows the movements of the magic hands he creates and transmits it to her phone, along with an attempt at a translation. It’s still in beta and hasn’t been released yet, but they’re hoping once they iron out the bugs and refine it that it can come in handy for other monsters who use sign language. I figure if Alphys can turn phones into functioning jetpacks then something like this wouldn’t be impossible, haha. He talks while he signs because he likes the sound of his own voice, the egomaniac. The little sprites were Alphys’s idea.

Gaster is tired and stressed out, thus why he’s not paying a lot of attention. Also why his coat’s unbuttoned and he left his phone on and why he’s trying to do work while Sans is doing an IQ test (IQ days are kind of “free” days for the three of them to recover from previous experiments).

[Index]

[thebridgebeyond]

Year End Art Musings and Creative Reflection

It is time to do my yearly (mostly) creative reflection for the year. I won't bring up specific works this time around and will treat it like a typical written musing.

2023 was art-block-tastic! Yet I was not peeved at the fact either. It was actually relaxing to just sit back and say "yeah..I don't feel like drawing. Not today, not tomorrow, but I'll write some notes down instead." I did try to force some art at the beginning, but nothing substantial wanted to be drawn. Technological issues arose, which didn't actually affect much in the grand scheme of creativity: smartphones are above and beyond at this point in time--literally having everything and anything, except a plug for my tablet, and my art files. It actually allowed me to delve deeper into written wips such as stories and specific lorebook pages.

○I've done a little bit of sketchwork, mainly on my tumblr (which it'll stay that way for a while until I stitch concepts together or clean it up). That doesn’t mean I'm going to be producing much quicker, unless I'm having a real spur of the moment. It's relative, however...2023 only had a few full artworks.

○Ref wise..I Occasionally (maybe once or twice a year) glance through the drawn zhu overview ref (not the 20 page written one!) and try to find a fixable flaw art wise as new epiphanies may arise. I've tweaked it through 2022 and one thing in 2023 as adjustment notes point to. I'll be damned though:  I cannot find anything major to redo or mess around with (and I have not so much as looked at the ref since April). It's standing on its own perfectly, and I love the spacing of everything. The only thing I can think of, is that zhus now have their claws out permanently.

Perhaps I have too much of a short term expectation on the life of a reference given how much of a transformation my ref art and understanding of zhus have gone through since I started. In 2024 it'll be ten years learning about them! After all, they have had a few references beforehand, but I will allow my past self a pat on the back and scold my current self for underestimating a lot. I expect that overview ref to last many years to come (even if I make minor tweaks as I've been doing, sparingly).

That all said--I do really like the color reference design, but the outlined zhus are not a standard representation outline (which would be Jericho). That will need an update at some point. I don't particularly care for the pattern and markings ref template, and it does not show off partial patterns well for zhus either.  There's a likelihood of me just combining the two in a much larger reference at some point. The much delayed pharaoh ref will not be as tidy as the other templates, much more sketchy with the art (purposefully so as the form had literally not been as studied as terrestrial form). Also--we don't talk about character refs here. Avalon is the estranged child concerning that currently..

○Some Lorebook things may be added in for next year, but I work with what I have, and what comes to me.

There are some irl things I have to focus on as well, so I cannot for certain tell how that will affect the flow of creativity overall. I do expect some nice outcomes in 2024.

[taiblogcomics]

Wistful While You Work

Hey there, non-traditional leprechauns. Little bit of bad news for ya: This is gonna be the last issue of Little Fillies right now. I don't have issue 4 yet! So sorry you'll have to wait for the conclusion to this 155-year-old story, but that's how it goes sometimes. In the meanwhile, we have issue 3 to get through today, so let's get into it~

Here's the cover:

Of the covers so far, this is far and away the best one. The previous two were very simplistic in a way that worked well, but this one actually feels like it's capturing something of the story. It's wistful to look at, in a way that really sells its contents. And if that doesn't do anything for ya, at least having a central focus might attract the Rainbow Dash fans to pick up this one. And then the other two once they realise it's part three~

As always, we open with the March sisters--and their club's newest inductee, Laurie (Applejack)--sharing their personal newspaper with each other. Meg (Twilight Sparkle) complains that Amy's (Rarity's) article was late, and she retorts it's not as if she's being asked to do a full 20-page illustrated periodical per month, so a little lateness can be excused. Ah, starting on the meta jokes early, are we? Jo (Rainbow Dash) thinks it all sounds terrible regardless, and Meg calls her out on her lack of dreams.

Of course Jo has dreams, though. She's just uncomfortable with expressing them. And as a minor aside, while the art is normally very good in these issues, this first panel of Laurie/Applejack is... not. They've either made her neck too thick or her head too small. It's just a little awkward. But starting with her, each of them goes around and shares their future goals. And while even Jo expresses a future she'd like, she's still uncomfortable. After all, why can't things stay the way they are? She's comfortable with that.

After a bit, though, a letter arrives at their house. It seems their father (Cheese Sandwich) is really bogged down in the war, and Marmee (Pinkie Pie) must rush to his side to try and settle things with her best cake (in spite of Twilight's protestations of missing the character's point). Unfortunately, they've got no money. Overhearing the conversation, Jo slinks out without being noticed. In some hours, though, she returns and gives a large amount of money to Marmee. Marmee's shocked, and asks how Jo obtained such an enormous sum.

Jo sighs and removes the sheet she's hiding under, revealing her mane is all black. She sold the pigments in her hair to a painter in exchange for the money. Now this one... I dunno, it doesn't make much sense to me. Is that a thing they can do? In the book, she just had her long hair cut short, which at least feels like something that could be sold. I guess Rainbow's hair is already so short, cutting it didn't really suit the plot. But it just comes across as kind of weird. Anyway, despite her kindness, she feels awkward with her hair changed, and Beth (Fluttershy) comforts her.

With Marmee gone, though, the March house quickly falls into shambles, as the sisters realise they're a bit unprepared to manage on their own. And while they're fretting about bills, Beth receives info that the Laurence place is flooding a bit. Naturally, she becomes worried about the animals, but her sisters can't give it the attention right now. So Beth goes off into the torrential rain to take care of them on her own. And when she comes back, she's sneezing pretty violently. The doctor (Discord) comes by, and declares that Beth is dead.

...tired. She's just too tired to keep participating in the story, and should be sent on a tropical vacation to recover, removing her from the narrative. It's basically the same thing. With Beth gone (on vacation), Jo and Laurie sit outside and muse wistfully that everything is changing. But in more positive news, Jo had a story published! It's not one of her Rainbow Dash yarns either. But with the whole Beth thing, she hasn't brought it up to her sisters. Before Laurie can turn the conversation to her own aspirations, Aunt March (Discord) comes marching up.

She's here to check up on how the sisters are holding together while Marmee's away. The answer is: not great. If they're this neglectful of their surrounings, how will their futures fare? This turns back around to that conversation at the beginning where they name their dream goals again. Meg's studying is dismissed, as they "already did 10 seasons of that". When Jo's turn comes up, she declares a disinterest, saying she'll end up doing it or she won't, so who cares. With that kind of attitude, Aunt March decides to take Amy on her tour instead.

Miffed at being denied seeing the world, Jo storms up to write. She draws a blank at first, but then her self-insert OC, Rainbow Dash, suggests she try writing about everything that's been going on. And so she does, turning it into a publisher (also Discord) the next day. He turns it down. It's not awful, but it's clearly trying to please too many people at once (which Jo even admits to), and thus she's not truly writing for herself. They're publishing one more issue (wink wink, nudge nudge, we're very clever, audience), so if she cleans it up by then, she might get in.

Jo's a little bummed, but no writer likes the editing process. She laments to Laurie, who offers a sympathetic ear, but is confident Jo will find her balance. She also still intends to go to Appleloosa to study. She even proposes that Jo could come with her, but Jo turns it down. It's not that it's less glamorous than an around-the-world tour (though it is also that), she just doesn't think it's for her. Laurie accepts it gracefully, saying she'll miss Jo. She'll miss her too. And the comic closes out with more wistful looks as Jo just sits in her yard while Laurie departs.

This is clearly the character development issue. Things are changing all around Jo, and she’s gonna have to change too or be left behind. The fourth wall jokes are a little blatant in this one, especially around Beth’s ...exit from the narrative. I guess we’ll have to see how it all turns out someday! Whenever I get issue 4.

In the meantime, next week we’re going back to Avengers Arena, and we’ll finish those last six issues and move on to something else.

[books]

Writer Spotlight: Adam J. Kurtz

Happy New Release Tuesday, Booklr. We've got a very special treat for you today. To celebrate the launch of YOU ARE HERE (FOR NOW), we asked writer, artist, and designer Adam J. Kurtz (@Adam JK) about his process, the new book, and what to do when change comes for you. Adam's illustrative work is rooted in honesty, humor, and a little darkness. His books have been translated into over a dozen languages. His offbeat creative work has been featured in NYLON, Adweek, Vice, and The New Yorker.

Read on for Adam's answers and a very special giveaway treat at the end ;)

~

Can you tell us a little bit about YOU ARE HERE (FOR NOW)?

YOU ARE HERE (FOR NOW) is a collection of art and essays around themes of change and personal transformation—basically, the way we navigate change and intentionally grow, either because life threw some shit our way and we have to adapt, or because we realize we want something more, or something different.

My goal was to make a book that feels like staying up late talking to a friend about life and purpose and wanting so much more, and your fear of fucking up, and why everything is so hard sometimes, and umm, is it normal if I slightly want to die sometimes and wondering what comes next.

But you know, it’s chill. I’m not an expert, I’m not a therapist, I’m trying to work it all out too, and I do that through my art. I needed to change some things, so I made my life into an ‘art project’ so I would be forced to actually do it. And surprise, it helps.

YAHFN combines essayistic musings with visual artwork. Can you tell us about your work process? How do text and image speak to each other across the pages?

I’m kind of most known for my shorter writing style and aphorisms. I boil down bigger emotions into a bite-size catchphrase, then print it on balloons, planners, and keychains as weirdly personal but highly accessible art. This book combines a lot of the shorter writing, the handwritten reminders, with longer, themed essays wherever I realized I had more to say this time. The book’s art is composed of a series of folding sequences photographed step-by-step. A sheet of paper transforms into a ribbon, or a star, or confetti. I wanted to represent the way we all start out as a blank slate and are bent, rolled, and torn by reality—until we eventually emerge transformed but no less whole.

What’s something that’s good to remember about being a human person when overwhelming change happens?

Comparison isn’t helpful, BUT I like remembering that everybody has experienced difficult, scary, complicated shit. Even me, before this. And if I was able to find my way through then, I can do it again. Life is hard, and yet so many of us are HERE and DOING IT and PRETTY okay, and that can and will be the case for you, too.

When it comes to mental health, the number one thing to remember is that just because it feels real doesn’t mean it is objectively real. If there’s a way to safely step outside of yourself, it can help. Get another opinion! Talk to someone else you can trust. And no offense, but science is real. Like, brain chemistry is a thing, and you can’t just ‘toughen up’ until mental illness goes away. So ask for what you need.

Who do you write for? Do you imagine speaking to a specific person/type of person/audience while writing?

Honestly, I kind of write for myself and then try to open it up to others. I’m not sitting down to write in the voice of whoever I want to connect with (I’m literally not smart enough). I just write the way I speak, and it’s just sort of honest and full of dad jokes and a little nerdy, and I hope that’s okay because too late, I’m already this person.

Over the years, through my other books, social media, and public speaking, I’ve heard from enough people who DO get me that it is helpful to hear something so close to their inner monologue communicate the same things they’re thinking or worrying or obsessing about. I’ve come to embrace that my power is in being comfortable opening up, putting something in simple words, pairing it with graspable visual metaphor (it’s paper and pencil, we get it!!), and sharing it.

How do you practice self-care when juggling the different creative processes of writing and making visual art, as well as being a person?

I just don’t!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I mean, jk, but like, sometimes I am a real asshole to myself; I drink three coffees, and then I’m like, “wait, why is this happening to me,” as if I don’t exist in a physical body. It really comes down to balance in everything. Balance doesn’t mean I’m going to be exactly 50/50 on the scale. It just means that if I tip too far one way, I need to work to tip back. Most of the time, I’m too far in either direction, so there’s a lot of swinging.

The answers are easy: Drink water, get enough sleep, go for walks, wear clothing that is comfortable, sit up straight. It’s the questions that are more complicated. We’ll talk about it in the book.

What’s your favorite place to write? Why?

It seems like the answer is “anywhere that isn’t my desk,” based on where I wrote this book. I wrote the first draft of seven chapters on a 12-hour train ride from Oakland to Los Angeles while pretending to be a famous author who can afford to live off their books (lmao).

Later, I got a major reality check when we moved in with my husband’s parents. I wrote a lot of the book on their patio, and I did all the artwork from my sister-in-law’s childhood bedroom at a child-size desk I had to sit sideways at to fit. I did all the photography in a pop-up photo tent on the bed.

I guess my point is that you don’t need fancy shit to make your art, which is something I am always saying but really experienced in a super immediate way for this book.

There’s something incredibly touching and nourishing about YAHFN. What do you hope readers come away with?

It gets better because you get better. And if you’re not better yet, imagine your better self, then work backward to create actionable steps to get there. At least that’s what I’ve heard. In the meantime, here’s the book version of me sitting on your couch, drinking tea and talking about life and the universe and everything until we realize we haven’t checked our phones in a while and how the fuck is it 2 a.m. already?

What are you reading/writing about/making right now?

Beyond the book, YOU ARE HERE (FOR NOW) is me creating a big obvious reminder for myself to keep going. So I’m pushing it in a few directions. I’m currently wrapping up a podcast series of the same name and preparing larger-scale artwork for a YAHFN art show in Honolulu that opens in November. It took so much work to get here, to this moment, now I want to stay for a little bit and see what happens.

Thanks for taking the time, Adam! YOU ARE HERE (FOR NOW) is out today! If you'd like your very own copy, either head to your nearest book store or reblog this interview and tell us about a time you overcame a challenge—however big or small! Adam will select 10 winning responses from US-based participants. Each winner will receive a copy of YOU ARE HERE (FOR NOW).*

*Open to US residents only. You must also be at least 18 and the age of majority in your jurisdiction. The giveaway will begin at 10 a.m. EST on October 19, 2021, and will close at 10 a.m. EST on October 20, 2021. Our editorial team will reach out to winners via email to facilitate sending out copies. One entry per blog. No purchase necessary. Void where prohibited by law. Sponsor: Tumblr Inc.

[voidtouched-blue]

Forgotten-contract--prior

She was in the sink. He was beginning to think that ‘chairs’ were merely a concept and not an item in this household. Clearing his throat - turning to return to the sitting room where the rest of the collected tomes sat - he spoke to her with an idle question; “Is there anything I can assist with for… sorting? For your research?” Gilded golds looked down to the web that covered her floor. “…If you’ve not some starting method to follow of course.”

Cyra was making the last round of wrapping her horns when she heard a soft sound from the other side of the open bathroom door. As she had come to understand, it was his way of politely making his presence known as to not frighten her. As keen as she was on picking up the sound of footsteps well before they reached her immediate vicinity, it seemed she had gotten comfortable enough with his presence to allow herself to wholly focus on the task at hand. Whatever it was she had been doing, she was always entirely absorbed, making it nearly impossible to not jump in reaction to the sudden soft alerts.

"Uhm-... yes, actually! I won't be more than a moment." She called out as she finally finished securing the bandage around her head. Cyra let her hair out of the low tie at the base of her neck, giving her head a little shake to let it fall where it pleased.

"Unfortunately," she sighed as she hopped out of the sink. "I'm going to have to sort through it all over again and compare with the notes I wrote while in Thanalan."

With a short few minutes taken to clean up after herself to be mindful of her own mess, the Miqo'te shivered as she felt the discomfort of the greased fur under the bandages. She scratched behind her ear as she stepped out from the bedroom. It had only taken her a moment to glance around the various scattered pages for her to realize that she had quite a bit of work to do.

Crossing her arms, she leaned over a handful of pages scattered at her feet, trying to trace back the train of thought to where she had left off before making her trip to Ul'Dah. Her other hand came up to rest her chin in her hand, rubbing her chin in thought as she did her best to recall how the pieces had been scattered.

"My knack for notation could either be considered a blessing or a curse depending on what side I'm standing on....right...Uhm..." She stepped around him as she mused aloud.

"All right. This would be easier to sift through and compare without having to stop and give direction every handful of minutes." She shifted, placing a hand on her hip while the other ran through her hair to stop at the back of her head. Her tail curled up and around her arm near her waist as it had done the last time she had papers scattered around her.

"I don't like to make assumptions, but-..." she finally turned her gaze to the man who stood waiting for her word. "-considering the rather rare nature of your collection, it's safe to say that you have a relative understanding of what my work consists of, correct?" The question was mostly rhetorical, a mere polite show of words to put them on the same page. She did not wait for his answer.

"Between the small amount I've gathered from the tomes you've so kindly allowed me to peruse, and my own mess, I'm looking for...-"

She paused suddenly, clapping a hand over her mouth.

"Blessed and cursed, indeed!" She shifted the hand from her mouth to cover her eyes. "Forgive me, Silvaire. I'm afraid I've a mountain of work to sift through and reorganize. I would not be a good host to ask it of you to assist me in this, but I will not refuse should you so desire."

Cyra pinched the bridge of her nose and recrossed her arms as she looked back at her guest.

"All of my notes are arranged with the assumption that I haven't gotten at least one of the myriad of answers I had hoped to find during my trip to the Sanctum. But, as these are so kind to remind me-" she gestured to the horns protruding from her skull. "-I have to rearrange this network according to the few answers I do have." Her free hand returned to her chin.

Should I just tell him? He's come this far already...I'm sure this is something he's already considered. Eh- might as well.

"As I'm sure you're aware, considering you've read my notes at your estate, I'm looking into the nature of contracts with Voidsent. I've spent a lot of time gathering as much information from ruins, first hand accounts I've written myself, and of course tomes, but there's a lot of information I believe I'm missing. Either something as simple as a mere connecting of similar events, or perhaps knowledge far older that what I have here, I've found too many conflicting pieces of evidence on how communicating with one works." She bent down to pick up a sheet with some poorly translated Mhachi inscriptions she had found at an archaeological site near the beginning of her obsession.

"I've only found information on the deals made between Voidsent and apparent victim, but not anything about those that might act as a patron rather than a partnership that only benefits one party with a violent end result." She paused again, glancing over the sheet in her hand.

"Where have I seen this before?" Cyra mused aloud as she took the copied inscription back over to her desk.

[evelestrange]

hi!! i absolutely loved "enough" omg i can't get enough (😉) of protective bf!ekko, he deserves more love ;_; can i request for some pre-relationship ekko, like maybe the moment when he finally confesses his feelings for reader after hiding it for so long? tysm and keep up the great work 💚

i am combining this and @halypoty requests! (romantic ekko x reader)

another reminder that if either of you don't like the fic or it wasn't what you had envisioned, dm me for a prioritized request

are we too young for this?

my arcane masterlist

┊spoilers: act 2

┊pairing: Ekko x fem!zaunite!reader

┊warnings: mentions of death,

┊word count: 1.2k

┊genre: hurt/comfort

┊summary: Being with Ekko in the firelights wasn't easy, but it's worth it.

┊notes: trying out something new by making the a song fic !

song: softcore by the neighbourhood.

personal preference here, but i wholeheartedly believe that angst-fluff hits so much harder than just fluff (i'm also just a sucker for hurt/comfort where there is some genuine backstory and epilog instead of an awkward cut-off.) Therefore, most of my posts will have some sort of angst, including this one <3

you've been my muse for a long time…

His gray eyes seemed to glitter under the sunlight. His smile is beaming against the rays. His head turned to face you, his smile somehow glowing even brighter at the sight of you. The small gap in his teeth is still present after all these years.

You were sitting in the grass, your legs crossed as your sketchbook was open in your lap. The charcoal in your hand dancing over the parchment, using your sleeve to smear the shading, bleeding his cheekbones into the page. You bit your lip in concentration, trying to get his eyebrows just right. One arch needed to be lower than the other.

His heart seemed to swell at the sight of you.

you get me through every dark night…

Your hands covered your mouth in a silent sob, your hands trembling under the weight of your fear. Your shaking was constant, but with no definite pattern.

Ekko shifted in his sleep next to you, his brows furrowing and contorting in ways you couldn't seem to understand. The man pulled you closer to him, subconsciously. His hands are firm around your back, splaying across the base of your neck and intertwining his fingertips onto your hair, an irritating but comforting pressure.

Your breathing slowed and your racing heart calmed as you were laid beside him, admiring his features in every way to ground yourself. A small smile settled into your expression, eyes closing as he brought you into the crook of his neck.

You didn't notice the kiss he pressed to your temple as he followed you to sleep.

i'm always gone, out on the go…

You squint your eyes, the sun blinding you as it poured into your bedroom. You rolled onto your side with still closed eyes, lifting your leg to drape over your best friend.

The sheets were cold with his absence.

i'm on the run and you're home alone…

You sighed, as this was nothing new. He got paranoid sometimes ; it's understandable with the work we do in our...field.

It didn't make waking up alone any easier. With another sigh you rolled out of bed, your feet freezing against the cold wood. The curtains swayed, dancing with the wind. You pulled brown cargo pants from your closet. A tight, black, long sleeve shirt following closely behind.

You slipped the material over your head and around your hips, messing with the hems for comfort.

i’m too consumed with my own life…

Reality seemed to fade away, disappearing into the fog of a simulation as you applied pressure to the nuzzle in your hand, the rich paint spreading across the tree bark. Your eyes stung as you filled and smoothed the magenta hair into the splitered ridges.

are we too young for this?

She was nineteen ; a child, when death had taken her by the throat, dragging her into the depths of wherever the afterlife resided. Tears fell down your face, your sleeve rehoming them into the fabric of your shirt as you continued to honor her memory in a portrait.

feels like i can’t move…

You look a step back, the full picture in view. A force seemed to slam itself into your chest, your mind returning to your body from its far away state.

Yet, you couldn’t seem to move as pink joined pink on the tree. Your feet were planted to the ground, phantoms of the tree’s roots wrapping themselves around your body and preventing your movement.

sharing my heart…

As terrible as it was, the girl was a substitute for Vi in sorts. Just a bandaid over a bullet wound that was ripped off with her death.

it’s tearing me apart…

Your heart ached in your chest as you studied the art you created.

“Firelights!” Mirio’s shout was verbose, echoing throughout your home as you turned your head, your heart lightening as you spotted platinum locs in the distance, quickly coming closer as you raced to meet him.

but i know i’d miss you, baby, if i left right now…

“I missed you,” you whispered in his ear, your arms tight around his neck. His arms only tightened, a silent reciprocation to your claim.

doing what i can, tryna be a man…

Your nails scratched lightly against his neck as his heart pounded, trying to go through his chest and into yours.

His posture was stiff and tense with emotional barriers. He was trying to stay strong for everyone here, he was a leader.

And leaders don’t show weakness.

Because look where that got Vander.

and every time i kiss you, baby…

His lips lay on your neck, but not in a kiss.

Never a kiss.

You knew he must have lost someone on the mission, taking it hard. He breathed you in as a comfort, a reassurance that you were here. You were alive.

i can hear the sound of breaking down…

He was trebling, ever so slightly. Your arms loosened, your hand slipping into his as you pulled him along.

You entered your shared dorm, pulling him down onto the sofa and holding him close to you as his tears started to run, dampening your neck as his arms snuck around your waist, eliminating any space between the two of you.

You were all he had.

“Please don’t end up like them..” he begged. You shook your head, your own tears spilling over as you clutched him to you.

“I will never, ever, abandon who we are and what we stand for, Ekko,” you reassured.

i’ve been confused as of late…

He shook his head and confusion enveloped you.

“Please don’t leave me like they did.”

Your heart broke, not because of his fear, but because what you said next could turn into a lie.

“I won’t leave you.”

watching my youth slip away…

He had crows feet around his eyes, the stress of the past few years getting to him. Watching the death of the man that took him in, and watching his brothers and sister drive them selves into a suicide mission, only to not come out the other side and the only person that survived sided with their enemy and abandoned them.

Then he had to watch the people around him be ravaged by shimmer and die.

you’re like the sun, you wake me up…

He looked up, eyes meeting yours, bloodshot and slightly swollen.

“I’ve been in love with you since we were kids,” his voice was rough, the side effect of his tears. “You’re the only constant I’ve had in my life since Benzo and Vander died.”

He was pouring his heart out to you and openly trauma dumping.

but you drain me out, if i get too much…

“I can’t let anything happen to you, I wouldn’t survive that.”

Your hands came up the cup his jaw, running them along the edges.

“I promise you, I’ll try as hard as I can to never make you feel like you’ll lose me,” you swore to him, holding his eyes to your gaze.

i might need you or i’ll break…

“I need you.” Within seconds his lips were pressed to yours, a long and sweet kiss he had planted onto you. You losened your grip, favoring having your arms tightly swung around his neck.

He pulled away, only just.

“I love you so much,” he confessed. His gaze was locked on you, waiting for a reaction.

An answer.

“I love you, to the stars and back.”

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-taglist: @bitchylittlejellyfish @1-danid @holysmokesblog@brooks-lyanna