#spring signal

[mapsthewanderer]

Maps headcanons -

🧡 Caleb left you another letter II

Caleb’s smutty letter

Details: 550ish words of Caleb’s smutty letter to you. Yandere stuff, possessive stuff. Name kink, plus hints at a few others I think he has. He makes me feral. 18+ y’all very explicit notinoti stuff. (Kinda want to write another name kink hc for him now lol) Enjoy lol.

You wake alone.

The sheets are still warm where he slept—the dent of his body still curled toward yours, the way he always ends up even when he swears he won’t “cling like a koala.” Morning light seeps in around the edges of the curtain, but the space beside you is empty.

Except for a letter.

It’s folded once, carefully. Placed right where your shoulder had been, like he timed it to kiss your skin just after he left.

The paper smells like him—like sandalwood and mouthwash and something only you ever get this close to. Your name is scrawled on the front in that familiar, curling script.

——————————————————————————

Hey, beautiful

If you’re reading this, you’ve probably just woken up. I hope you stretched out into my spot, stole all the pillows and kicked the blanket off your legs like you always do. I hope you’re still sore.

God, I hope you’re sore.

I’ve been trying to focus on The Tunnel, trying to think about logistics, flight paths, literally anything else… but my brain keeps sliding back to you. To last night.

The way you sounded. The way you moved. The way you felt.

When you were wrapped around me like the space between us had never been meant to exist at all… Every breath, every shift of your hips, every broken sound you didn’t mean to make.

Do you even know how hard it is not to come the second I hear that little gasp you make?

I keep replaying the way your fingers dug into my back, the way your thighs shook when I told you not to stop. The way your mouth looked when you didn’t listen. You looked at me like you wanted to ruin me… and I think you did. Because now all I can think about is coming back and doing it again. Slower. Rougher. Deeper.

And… the way you scream my name.

I want to hear it again. And again. I want it raw and breathless… I want to pull it out of you until it’s the only word you remember. There’s nothing sweeter. Nothing more mine.

So don’t hold back. Not when you scream my name. Not when your nails dig in. If you want to make me bleed, make me bleed. I don’t care if you leave scars down my spine—I’ll wear them like proof that I belong to you. Every sound, every scratch, every mark. Yours.

Because I want it. All of it. I want you clawing at me like you need me to stay inside you forever. Your thighs shaking around my hips while you beg. Your nails in my back, your teeth on my shoulder. I want you soaked, wrecked, owning me without even trying.

I want to come with your name in my mouth and your nails in my skin—want to be drained, so deep inside you I forget where I end. I want to fall apart between your legs and still stay hard just from the sound of your voice.

Fuck.

You make it so hard to leave, you know that?

Are you touching yourself right now? (If you are, don’t stop. Pretend it’s me. I’ll pretend it’s you every second until I’m back. Fair trade, yeah?)

Say my name, and I’ll say yours. Whisper it like I’m there, and I swear I’ll breathe yours like a prayer out here in the dark. Over and over. Until I can come back and say it against your skin.

Try not to miss me too much.

Yours—thinking about the way your mouth shapes around my name,

Caleb

——————————————————————————

Say my name again

Fold secrets in the sweat

——————————————————————————

[zilodak]

Nothing feels the same does it? You feel it too. The wind blows the wrong way, flowers smell slightly less, the birds scream. A constant hum fills the sky.

Nour Osman disappeared on the 16th of April 1983 at the blink of the eye, and her cousin, Lucky Newman never managed to let go. Johnny Newman was 46 years old by the time of the accident. Lucky ran for help, but by the time the paramedics arrived, his father's body was nowhere to be found. Lucky never let go of this either.

Now living with his uncle, Lucky tries to recover from losing both his father and his cousin, but something inside him tells him they're not really gone. At least not forever. A hum guides him constantly, a familiar owl speaks in riddles and a computer screams for help.

Things aren't as they seem, what's lost can be eventually found. And the rest is empty.

Sim Spring Neocities

[awakeningthevioletswithin]

Landlord texts!!!I need to send another payment today! Venmo- Kate-Havekost Paypal- havekatart@gmail.com Don't have enough for a painting. Put a deposit on your favorite piece, pay as you have spare cash here and there, no interest, no due dates.

[intramoon]

Amelia Bennett Pease ⤷ hs english teacher, in love with love, always sick, mama-to-be

[tournesoleil13]

Despite everything it’s still you, the one with unwavering humanity

[nnicknnelsonn]

kit connor in paris at loewe spring summer 2024 show

is it just me or does that little nose rub feel an awful lot like a signal to a certain someone that kit’s answer is a little on the nose

[rindumentari]

Alright stop, stop scrolling! I need your attention for a moment.

Yasmin (@yasminfamilysblog @yasmeenmahmoudgaza) and her family need your help. Gofundme closed their campaign TWICE and all funds raised were returned to the donors. They had to create a new campaign and start again from the beginning. So if you can donate please donate, if you can't please help spread this campaign to people who can donate.

tagging for reach 🙏

@nabulsi @90-ghost @a-shade-of-blue @sayruq @stuckinapril @warcrimesimulator @takemeinyrarmy @mistress--kanzaki @hojanaranja @eclaire-went-bam @domiiomii @stardustkarim @good-old-gossip @sillymarillly @zalimaaa

[unfinishedslurs]

every robin gets a freebie

reverse robins in the aftermath of the death of filipe garzonas

A CD was in the mail within the next week, blank but for a note that slipped out when the envelope was opened. You should really trust in your birds more often, B. Learn from your mistakes for once. 

Jason felt bile in his throat. It was body cam footage, blurry and half obscured, of Robin and Garzonas on the roof. Footage that still clearly showed Garzonas taking a too-far step back, Robin lunging to reach him, and then…

But that’s not what happened, Jason doesn’t say. His tongue feels swollen and thick in his mouth. 

Batman takes off the cowl solemnly. “Jaylad,” he says. “Jason. I’m so sorry for doubting you. I never should have…”

He can’t be here anymore. He can’t be in this cave, can’t stand Bruce looking at him like that, can’t stand to even be in the vicinity of the Robin uniform he no longer deserves. 

He bolts for the exit.

“Jason!” he hears Bruce call, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t. Not even when he nearly runs into Alfred, not when Damian tries to grasp his arm, not when Duke asks him what’s wrong or when Tim yelps in surprise and drops his cane jumping out of the way. He just runs, out the manor door and into the night. 

For a split second the figure on the roof is overlaid with Gloria. Beautiful, resigned Gloria, who was so scared of what Felipe would do to her that she would do anything to stop it. 

Then he blinks, and he’s on the rooftop with the Spoiler. 

“Relax,” Spoiler says, “I’m not gonna jump. I'm only three steps into my five-step plan for world dominance. Can’t leave that unfinished. Imagine the paperwork.”

“I dunno.” Jason’s hands are shaking. “You seem like the kinda freak who would enjoy that.”

Spoiler lowers her mask, and Stephanie Brown smiles at him. 

“How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“You know.” His voice wavers. “You know. You know what I did. How did you…why did you…what was the reason?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes!”

“Call it tradition then, I guess.” Steph sounds almost amused. “Robin’s flock together.”

“But you don’t like me.”

“Who told you that?”

No one, but she doesn’t exactly go out of her way to talk to Jason. He just kind of assumed. 

Tim’s awkward around him. Sometimes they’re fine, like when he wandered into the library where Jason was and asked if he wanted to get ice cream together. Other times he wouldn’t see him for three weeks. Jason tries not to think about the nights Tim has had dreams that left him cackling loud enough to wake Jason up the couple times he’s stayed the night at the Nest, or the things he heard Tim shout about little birds and broken nests when he was fear gassed. 

It kind of sucks, being your brother's biggest trigger. 

(Those three weeks may be a case of mutual avoidance, but Jason will never admit it.)

When he doesn’t say anything, Steph sighs. “How much do you know about when I was Robin?”

“Uh,” he says, caught off guard, “not much, I guess?” He knows that it was because something was going on with Tim. That’s about it, really. He asked once, when he was still new to Robin and the Manor. He didn’t ask again after he saw the look on Tim’s face. 

“Bruce didn’t really want me. Damian didn’t think I was worthy of the mantle, and took every chance he could to remind me. Tim was pissed at me for it. None of them wanted me there, and I tried so hard to prove them wrong. To be the Robin I knew I could be.”

That…can’t be right. The few times he had asked about Stephanie Brown, Tim had nothing but good words to say. Bruce and Damian spent so much time wallowing in their regrets it was insane. For her to say nobody wanted her there, when her absence was a shadow that followed them constantly around Wayne Manor, was baffling. 

Steph looks down at the helmet in her hands. “All I wanted was their approval, and it made me stupid. I overestimated myself. That’s how you get killed in this game, kid. Don’t get too cocky for your britches, and all that.”

Jason is shaking again by the time they get to the Nest. He hesitates at the window, sending a pleading look to Spoiler that she completely ignores ushering him in. 

Tim spins around in his tricked out gaming chair, frown pulling oddly against the wide scars on his cheeks. He flicks his comm off. “Steph?” Then his eyes found Jason. “Jason! Thank God, we were starting to get worried about you. Duke told everyone to give you space, but…”

His mouth is too dry to say anything in response, so he just shrugs. Tim tilts his head, examining him, before looking at Spoiler questioningly. 

She takes off her mask again, lowering her hood and shaking out her hair. “We need some help,” she explains, and nudges Jason forward. 

He stays stubbornly in his place, head tilted towards the floor. Steph sighs. “If you don’t tell him,” she says, “I will.”

He whips his head around. “You promised!”

“My name is literally The Spoiler.” She bares her teeth at him. “I get that you’re nervous, kid, but I do not have time for this.”

“For what?” Tim says. God, Tim’s going to be like a dog with a bone with this. He’s never met a mystery he didn’t want to solve. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

“I killed Filipe!” He blurts out and freezes, moving immediately to hide behind Spoiler. She doesn’t let him, grabbing his shoulder and holding him firmly to the spot. 

Tim gapes at him. “You…” he trails off, slowly turning to Steph, who holds his gaze steadily. “The footage?”  

“I have connections.”

“Of course you do.” He rubs a hand over his face. “How are we playing this?

What?

“We keep going along with what’s been presented to him,” Spoiler responds without hesitation. “B’s paranoid, but he’s also the king of denial. There’s no doctoring on the tape itself, he won’t look any deeper.”

“And Damian?”

“Like he gives a shit.”

“True,” he admits. “Duke wouldn’t care enough to check either way, so that just leaves Cass.”

Steph swears. “Fuck, Cass. Do you think she’ll say something?”

“Yes. Ugh, yes she will. Fuck.”

“Think you can talk some sense into her?”

“Maybe.” He squints at Jason. “I’ll probably play up the ‘ridden by guilt’ and ‘will never happen again’ angle. He definitely reads it.”

“What the hell are you two talking about?” Jason finally says, lungs fighting for air. “I—I killed someone!”

“Not according to Bruce, you didn’t.” Tim tells him. 

“You want me to lie?”

“Yes.”

He looks at Steph imploringly, begging her to explain, but she doesn’t even look at him. “Chill out, kid,” she says, “We all get a freebie.”

“Damian got more than a freebie,” Tim points out. 

“He’d tell you it was his right as the blood son.”

“Stop joking!” He shouts, chest heaving for air. “Just—stop it! Why aren’t you telling Bruce? Why are you making plans to lie to him? What’s wrong with you?”

Tim exchanges a heavy look at Steph, before reaching his hand out to Jason. Jason takes it, trembling. 

“Plenty of vigilantes have to make hard choices when it comes to stopping people the law can’t touch,” he tells Jason gently. “I work with people who all choose different things. When it comes to people like Garzonas, who will keep doing it over and over with no remorse…it’s not a method I recommend, but sometimes there’s only one way to stop them. If Robin made that choice, I wouldn’t blame him.”

He can’t stop the tears from welling in his eyes, because this is Tim Drake saying it. Damian was the first Robin, yeah, and Steph left her undeniable mark with her cheer and wit, but Tim wore the mantle twice. He made it into something new, something a bit brighter in the dark nights. Then, after Steph, he made it into a memory. Bright yellow for her hair. Red for Superboy. Even after they both came back Jason wore their colors, because Robin was persistence, and spirit, and clever words followed by hard punches, and bravery and a million other things, but it was also hope and love and remembrance for the lost. 

He wouldn’t forget that. “Why are you so okay with this?”

“You know I’ve had to make that choice too.”

Jason almost laughs, but refrains. He’s heard the stories. “Never sounded like much of a choice.”

“It was.” His eyes snap to Tim’s at the sudden edge to his voice, and Tim meets his eyes carefully. “I was fully aware of what I was doing. It’s not something I’ll ever do again, but it was my choice, and I won’t have that taken from me.” 

“I don’t think I can be Robin anymore.”

“Well, we all have to give it up sometimes.”

“Are we really doing this?” Tim asks, after he thinks Jason has fallen asleep. 

Jokes on him, Jason doesn’t think he’s gonna sleep ever again. 

“Are you seriously getting cold feet now? I thought you loved lying to Bruce.”

“I don’t love lying to Bruce, it’s just—“

“‘—necessary sometimes,’” she finishes. “Whatever. Like you don’t love the thrill of it.”

Tim doesn’t bother denying it. “This isn’t just lying to B, Steph. This is—are we really going to cover up a murder?”

The room drops ten degrees. 

“If you’re not going to back me on this, we can go somewhere else. Don’t want you getting your hands dirty or anything,” she sneers. 

“You know I’ve always got your back,” Tim says. Jason thinks back to what Spoiler told him earlier about her time as Robin, and wonders if that might not be as irrefutable a truth as he’d always thought it was. “I’m worried about Jason.”

“You wouldn’t need to be if you would just help him out—“

“You saw him. The kid looks like a ghost. He looks like I did. Don’t—no, Steph, I’m serious. I’m worried about him. At least I didn’t have to hide that I killed the Joker. You think keeping this bottled up will be good for him? It’s going to kill him.”

“The alternative is telling Batman that his precious Robin killed someone. You remember how that went last time?”

There’s a long pause, and then he hears Tim hiss an exhalation behind clenched teeth. “Don’t bring that into this. Jason’s not me.”

“That’s the fucking problem. You were his golden boy—“

“Seriously? You think I was the golden boy?”

“I’m hardly his favorite,” Tim scoffs. “Jason is.”

There’s a shocked silence. Then Stephanie scoffs. “You can’t seriously be jealous.“

“I’m trying to tell you it’ll be different from me. Have you seen him with Jason?” He waits, but Steph doesn’t answer. “He laughs. He laughs, he smiles, he’s fucking…happy. Jason makes him happy. I never did that. None of us ever—“

“Jesus, Tim,” Steph says roughly. “You made him plenty happy. Damian, Cass, Duke, you all make him laugh—“

“Not like Jason does.”

“You willing to risk the kid on that?”

A beat, and Tim sighs. “No. But it’s different now. Jason has us. All of us. It wouldn’t be like last time.”

“Jason’s not me.” He pauses, almost like he’s debating what he’ll say next, before he says, “He’s not you, either.”

Steph stays silent for so long Jason wonders if she climbed out the window and left. 

Finally, she exhales. “He’s not you, and he’s not me,” she agrees, “but Bruce is always going to be Bruce.”

They sit in silence for a long moment. Finally Steph speaks up. “Are you really jealous of him?”

“No, Steph. Jesus.”

“You’re such a liar.” It’s affectionate this time, though, clearly poking fun. 

Tim sighs, heavier than the teasing warrants. “It’s not him. It’s not him, and it’s not you, I just…I was never able to give up Robin on my own terms. I never…I never got to feel like I was putting it down. It never stopped feeling like—“

Stephanie doesn’t say anything. Eventually, one of the chairs slides back, and Jason hears a cane clacking on the ground. A cabinet opens. “Did you want coffee?”

“What happened to those awful sodas you were addicted to?”

“I assumed you wouldn’t want one,” Tim responds, voice dry. There’s no indication of their discussion in either of their tones. “Considering the first thing you ever did in this apartment was go through all my stuff and make fun of my taste.”

“Fuck it. I’m feeling abominable tonight, I should have something to fit the mood.”

“Shut up.” The fridge opens and shuts, and there’s a quiet thunk like a hand catching something out of midair. Then two drinks crack open. 

“God, I forgot how awful these were.”

(some undetermined amount of time later)

Bruce: Dick you can’t kill Tony Zucco. Batman and Robin do not kill.

Dick: Steph said Robin gets a freebie >:(

Bruce: 

Bruce:

Bruce: STEPHANIE-

[akatsuki-gift-exchange]

Our Spring Akatsuki Event is here!

You can include as many prompts in your work as you want! Posting occurs April 21 through April 28!

FAQs // Guidelines

1. This event is open to Akatsuki fans 18+! This is because …

• blood

• gore

• graphic // canon-compliant violence

• nsfw content

Are allowed BUT must be published Under the Cut.

2. No bashing will be tolerated whatsoever.

3. All content must focus on at least one Akatsuki member! This can include…

• Main Akatsuki members

 • OG // First Generation // Ame - Specific Akatsuki (this includes Six Paths characters!)

•  Previous/Interchanging Members (Yahiko, Orochimaru, Obito, Madara, ect.)

• Team Taka members

4. Absolutely NO adult/minor content. Aged up/same age/both adults AUs are fine.

5. Akatsuki/Sakura is allowed, but the focus must be an Akatsuki member - not Sakura (and Rule #4 applies).  

6. OCs can be included, but a canon Akatsuki member must be the focus. 

7. You can include non-Akatsuki canon characters (I.e: “X as an Akatsuki member”) but a canon Akatsuki member must be the focus.

Questions? DM @akatsuki-gift-exchange or the mod @foriamproud

[chronicowboy]

tomorrow will always and forever now be today (tomorrow is our always and forever) | 43k

"Think I can get a hug from my best man on my wedding day?" he asks, quietly hopeful in a way that makes Eddie want to tear off his skin.

"Sure," Chris replies with a shrug, turning to throw Eddie a cheeky grin. "Dad, Buck needs a hug."

Two things happen at once then: Eddie has to plaster on a smile authentic enough to convince the one person on this planet that knows him inside out—except he doesn't really have to fake his smile, not at first, because of number two—he sees groom-Buck for the first time. And groom-Buck is every bit as beautiful as Eddie might have imagined him over the years. Happy eyes bright and blue, pink lips stretched wide in a beaming smile, cheeks flushed pink with joy, hair carefully styled and stunningly golden in the morning sunlight. He's half-dressed too, tux jacket still on the hanger on the back of the chair, so Eddie gets an unbarred view of Buck's white shirt stretched taut over his biceps, shoulders, abs.

For a moment, Eddie falls into the greatest betrayal his brain has ever laid out for him, imagining that he might have got to see Buck like this for the first time from the other end of the aisle if he'd just been brave enough to—

"I think he meant you, kid," Eddie teases as he drops their suits to the couch. He widens his stance, so Jee can run through his legs and evade another of Chimney's grab attempts, then he ruffles Christopher's curls as a steadying act before he's suddenly in front of Buck. And he tries not to think about the pathway cleared through the living room by Jee's chase, or the fact that they're under the archway between the kitchen and the dining table, or the knowledge that Bobby is an ordained officiant where he stands behind them. "Hey, Buck," he says softly, smiling genuinely now because this is Buck.

"Hey, Eds," Buck murmurs back, and it's the first time since they'd promised to have each other's backs that Eddie can't quite decipher the emotions making Buck's voice thick.

Eddie wraps him in a hug then, careful and detached as he can manage, but it's Buck in his arms, warm and alive and his for just a few more hours. He doesn't let himself hold Buck's hips like he used to before—before he'd realised why he'd wanted to hold Buck's hips so tightly—just splays his fingers over Buck's back and tries to focus on the soft cotton under his palms rather than the way Buck's temple rests so perfectly against his. Eddie stays there, for too long probably, fingers digging in too tight possibly, and squeezes his eyes shut when they start to water. He's clinging, and he tries not to think about how it feels a little like Buck is clinging to him too.

"Ah," Eddie huffs as he pulls away, taking two steps back just to be safe. He catches Maddie's eyes on him then, sadder than they should be for the happy tears she'd been crying just before he'd got here, and Eddie wonders if her big sister omniscience is working on him too. "Come on, Buckley. Got to make an honest man out of you sooner rather than later."

"Whilst we're on the topic," Chim intervenes, a wriggly Jee on his hips with two shoes on—finally. "Are we sure he should be wearing white?"

(OR: eddie gets trapped in a time loop on the day buck marries natalia)

@butchdiaz @danielsousa @shitouttabuck @alyxmastershipper @diazass @911-on-abc @folk-fae @stagefoureddiediaz @jeeyuns @piningeddiediaz @robsumagpie @athenagranted @prince-buck-diaz @eddiediaztho @carryingbears @ladydorian05 @made-ofmemories @sherlockcrossing @violet-rot @binickmiller @rainbow-nerdss @thatnamewill-probably-change @ducksbellorum @organizedstardust @mangacat201 @faggotjoness @sibylsleaves @kaseysgirl86-blog @daughter-of-winterfell @thisyearsloveisnow @goodiecornbread @wordsofdiana @thehumongouskargomice @xandromedan @acebuddie @girlnamedjesse @pirrusstuff @angstydiaz @haradrimculture @pinky-promisesss @starlingbite @dontneedmyheart @spaceprincessem @shortsighted-owl @buck2eddie @diazly

[spaciebabie]

Shoes thrown at the door, spilled a bit of leftovers that you’ll clean up later, piled papers on the counter. Whatever. You just need rest right now. The sun is already down, and a bed sounds great.

You step into your little living room, about to hit the light switch to keep from bumping anything in the dark, but you notice that the desk lamp is on. Your eyes slowly adjust as you search the space. Your gaze then lands on the one chair you have that’s actually pretty nice, but on that chair sits a large mechanical rabbit. His head rests in his propped-up hand. He stays practically motionless, gazing into the darkness ahead of him. Your hand drops from the light switch. Springtrap liked it either being dim or completely dark. You had to admit, the lamp light was kind of comforting.

You give a deep sigh just thinking about everything that happened earlier today, then give a half-hearted and distracted, “Hi.”

Springtrap abruptly snaps out of his trance, looking over with his faintly-glowing, lidded eyes. Though the suit’s face always had a bit of a smile to it, it could move to make a few other expressions, and you could tell this was one of content as he recognized it was you in the doorway. He responds with a low, calm, and quiet, “Ah. Hello.”

Seeing your more-tired-than-usual look, Springtrap’s brows then furrow and the metal of his ears make a light “clink” as they drop back and to the side: a silent question about your expression.

You perform quite the full-body stretch -legs, back, neck, arms- while muttering, “It’s been a long day.”

There’s a mechanical click as Springtrap’s ears flick forward at your comment. “Longer than twenty-four hours?” his worn and grainy voice jokes as he leans back a little further into his chair, seemingly less worried about your condition being something big.

You can’t even be bothered to shoot him a semi-serious glare while beginning to trudge into the room, heading for your bedroom just past him.

Springtrap slowly sits up at your lack of response, brows knitting once more. His hand falls away from under his chin as watches you step tiredly through the dark.

You make it halfway into the living room before two fingers slip into your empty hand. You look over to see Springtrap leaning forward in the chair, his weathered digits now lightly gripping yours. He carefully pulls your arm towards him until it’s at its length, looking from your hand to your face. Not a demand, but an offer.

With no resistance, you turn to him and slowly step up to the chair. He takes one of the pillows from the other seats, placing it on top of his otherwise-hard-cased legs, then leans forward once more. One lightly-furred arm rubs up behind your knees, and the other presses against your back as he slowly eases you up onto his lap.

You curl into a ball, your head falling into the padding on his torso. It was like another pillow, but one with a few little holes to poke your hands into and pinch the edges of. Its fur was soft, especially compared to what remained of the suit’s plush, and rubbing your face against it never got old.

Springtrap sinks into the chair once again, arms slowly closing over you, one hand carefully holding your head. His ears droop forward over his face as he lowers his head to yours.

His false-breaths rumble in his mechanisms, creating a soothing purr. Warm, calm, and gentle.

-heartbeat anon [returns]

WHAT DO YOU MEAN HEARETBEAT ANON RETURNS

[mahoganygold213]

David Koma |Spring Summer 2024

[angustully]

can i be honest here.. is this a safe space.......

i really dont hate the smell of a bradford pear..... like i know that ecologically and perhaps even ontologically they are evil but unless i just happen to live in a part of the US where theyre less stinky than usual...... i think some of you might be overexaggerating its stench

[cajmonetbanks]

Dreamville Day 1

[incorrect-fnaf-quotes]

Honestly, I don't imagine that Spring Bonnie was even awake for the rescue that MXES and Plushtrap even managed to pull off after all of that time.

Went to sleep in whatever location of the other ship that Springtrap placed 'em in, expecting that the day after would be just like all of the ones before it--why wouldn't it be?--only...

The next time Spring Bonnie wakes up, its certainly a more familiar place--along with an even familar face, since MXES has just kind of been... standing there and staring in silence, since Spring Bonnie was brought back.

It's surprising, sure--but it's also pretty delightful.

[lujordis]

YCH Open - A spring rest

New YCH open! It's been a while since the last one, and again I come with season themed illustrations, cause they are so fun, but hahaha, female ocs and flowers are my weakness 8) I'm raising funds to cover anesthesiologist and some hospital expenses in the next month, I'll be super happy if you can buy it, if you can't sharing this will also help a lot to reach more people <3

🌻Info: -Patreons early access, and 5% discounts. -Multislot, 2-3. -Female characters only. Furry, human, elf, monster girl, etc -All body types, thin, muscular, chubby, etc. -No wings. If character has wings these won't be showing. -Payment via Paypal, Invoice only. -This YCH will be shaded. -Completion time: about 2-3 weeks -To claim email me at Lujordis(@)gmail.com, or DM me here. Aditionals *These make me rebuild part of the illustration, so production increases -Changing Flower theme $30 -Different dress $20 -Nsfw/soft nude $25 Shaded YCH samples: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1LtcWHyr7TPsM5eXUzFSLnwyKqMrHeOOg?usp=sharing