#art's mine btw

[nonnieapple]

⛈☂ Midnight Surf ☂⛈

 • (Marshall Lee x reader)  • r a t i n g: m a t u r e • 4 9 2 3  w o r d s  • p o s t e d 07.04.2024    🌧 navigation  • s u m m a r y: you go out for a midnight meet-up with your friend marshall lee. a follow up and continuation of "strings"- can be read alone but makes more sense after you read "strings."

The forest again.

Bathed in unnatural candy hues of the night, the foliage didn't dare rustle as you waded through it carefully. You walked and walked, greeted by many off-putting but harmless creatures, until you stopped at a grassy hill overlooking a familiar landscape.

  You sat down on the checkered white and red cloth sprawling across the ground. You looked around. He appeared slowly. From completely invisible to a floating, but very real, wraith. 

  "Hey, dude, what took you so long?" Marshall floated down, almost sitting but still floating above the ground like a mysterious fog. 

  "Walking. I don't have flying privileges." You smiled up at him, crossing your legs. His expression changed as it dawned on him, but he didn't look any less mischievous or smug. 

  "What do you want to do today? Er, tonight?" You corrected yourself awkwardly as you shifted in your seat. He sat down on the cloth, his long legs outstretched beyond its edge. His band shirt- cropped by him and a pair of scissors, accessories to the crime-  shifted over his shoulder. You weren't even looking down there, you were fixated on his face. 

  Instead of a response he dug through his deceptively flat pockets. He pulled out a pack of- cigarettes? You squinted. You had seen those before, one of the first times you hung out. And by his own words, they weren't tobacco.

  "Are you into this kind of stuff?" He asked as he lowered his arm, quirking a brow. You piped up. 

  "Yes. If you are," You said, a little too fast and a little too eager. Not even a little, a lot. He smiled, amused. 

  "Oh? Didn't pin you as the type." He opened the box.

"You don't know a lot of things about me," You replied cryptically, laughing as you looked away. 

  He lit the cigarette with the lighter he carried around at all times. Once he lit several cotton candy trees with it on Prince Day. That didn't go over well. The trees filed a restraining order against him.

  Marshall brought the cigarette to his lips and puffed a cloud of glitter. You suppressed a cough, gaze focused down. He passed you the thing and you took it hesitantly, bringing it to your lips. You paused. Your hands shook and your chest tightened, the pythons in your lungs strangling you from inside. 

  The cigarette had grooves in it from his nails. There was a slight scuff in the paper and you could see where his teeth grazed the pink filter. 

  You heard your name said softly. 

  You glanced up at him as your shoulders tensed upwards and your brows slumped downwards.

  "You okay?" Marshall leaned down to be on your eye level but kept his distance. His hands were close to your knees. You lowered the cigarette.

  "I have got to admit something." You frowned. "I'm sober. I don't do drugs, smoke, drink... anymore." 

  You waited for some kind of disappointment from him, telling you you were lame. You hadn't thought about this. When you saw him in Fionna's house that evening, you weren't sober yet, and you could've done it then- but now- you couldn't bring yourself to fake it, or to break your clean streak. 

  The air around you felt empty and cooler, his gaze like a sweater of hay. 

  "Why didn't you tell me?" Instead of disappointed, he looked concerned. You thought about the answer. Your hands clenched around nothing as Marshall took the cigarette away from you. 

  You felt grass poke into your legs. 

  "Well, I... don't know. I guess it didn't feel important enough until now." 

  "It is important. I'm proud of you. And I'll keep these away from you, by smoking them all myself," He said with an underlying light tone, juuust as you thought he was getting serious. His attitude put you at ease. 

  You shrugged, shoulders finally relaxing. You laughed. 

  "Go ahead. I'm not gonna stop you." 

  "The effects wear off quickly anyway.”

  He took a drag and his fangs grazed the paper. His eyes shifted over to the horizon.

  You reclined. With the newfound silence, your mind began drifting instantly, thoughts overthinking and brain overflowing with self-doubt. You felt stupid and tiny in his presence at the moment, even though you hadn’t previously. It wasn’t his fault- it was all your brain. Maybe you should’ve told him you were sober before you met up. You sighed.

  “How’s guitar been going?” He asked without looking at you. You pursed your lips. “Good. It’s been good. Learning a lot. Practicing. My fingers are shredded.”

  Your fingers were streaked with marks of steel strings, skin toughened. You wondered if he had the same. You imagined holding his hand, and- you shook your head, shaking away the thought like an etch a sketch.

  Marshall leaned over. You froze as he glanced at your hand. You tensed up instinctively. His eyes flicked up to yours and he leaned back momentarily, leaving as fast as he came (LOL). You exhaled shakily.

  “Welcome to the club. This is your life now,” He huffed out glittering smoke. “If you stop it’ll be gnarly. Keep practicing.” A smug smile adorned his face and his ears tilted up. Your brows raised.

  “I’ve also been practicing synth,” You mentioned with forced casualty. Sharing things about yourself either came out of your mouth randomly and with no prior thought or had to be pried from you by your own hand, no matter how weird it felt.

  “Synth?” Marshall raised a brow.   “And harmonica.”   “Okay...” He turned to you fully, leaning on his hand.   “And drums.”    “And omnichord.”   “And ukulele.”   “And theremin.”   “Also, the violin.”   “Exactly how many instruments do you play?” He asked slowly, squinting.   “All of those.”   “Is that all?”

  “Oh, I've also been practicing the rain stick. It's a very delicate balance. Of balancing the stick and turning it slowly so it sounds like rain and not like white noise coming from a TV in a horror game as the guy finds his clone dead on an armchair. In front of the TV.”

  Marshall’s confusion was evident on his face.   “I don't even know what a rain stick is.”

  “Of course you don't. I mean-“ You raised your hands defensively. Marshall grinned with amusement.

  “Whaaat?” He tilted his head and his ears lowered, hair, darker than the night sky, spilling over his face.

  “I mean it's an unpopular instrument in Aaa. Not to say you don't know things. You know lots of things! More things than I know! Probably.” You glanced from side to side.

  “Like what?” His tone changed and his expression did as well, more mischevious. It was your turn to be confused.

  “I assume a lot of the things you know I don’t- that’s my point? I don’t know?” You awkwardly fidgeted with your hands. Marshall seemed disappointed.

  “Right.” He sighed and snuffed out his cigarette.

  A silence settled.

  Yikes.   …

 You feigned a cough.

 “How's yooooooouuuuur....” You began to speak, only for your neurons to fizzle out. You panicked as your brain searched for a topic.

 “Music career?” You sounded embarrassingly unsure, maybe he wasn’t noticing, but you wanted to punch yourself. In the face. He stuck out his tongue and frowned as the cigarette crumpled into the grass.

  “Same old same old. I'm great and everyone loves me.”

  He focused in on the checkered cloth beneath him. He ran his hands over it in circles and you watched his black nails. His brows stayed furrowed and his voice was quiet.

  “I wish I could do more with it though.”

  You watched him curiously, moving a little closer.

  “Like what?”

  “I’ve done everything. Almost everything...” He shrugged and gestured. You knew he had not played the rain stick. “I've made so many albums and played shows in every place I could reach. Every corner of Aaa and most islands.” He sounded genuine, and his expression was serious. Not everyone got to see him like this. You were happy that you did. You hummed.

  “What about the Nightosphere? Have you done one there?”

  Marshall’s pupils shrunk at your words.

  “Can't. My mom would get involved and it'd be a whole thing.” He huffed and scoffed at the thought.   “I get that. Have you ever been to... the Dead Worlds?”

  “Yeah. Played a metal show. Death loved it. Butterscotch Butler tried to steal my skin.”

  You rolled your eyes.

“Ugh. Typical.”

  You inhaled deeply. The night air was pleasant and fresh, and a breeze had begun to pick up.

  You crossed your legs, following the lines of the grass stuck to the bottom of your shoes.

  “You know, it’s weird how much I think about death. My whole life is just one big thought about death.” You bit your lip. Your nails scratched against the top of your shoes.

  “Imagine how I feel.”

  You met his gaze. His pupils widened, almost becoming round.

  “I can’t,” You responded bluntly. “Do you think it’s worse to be immortal than mortal?”

  “I think both are shit. Immortals long for death, and mortals try to evade it. Besides my mom. She's doing just fine with her immortality." 

  You both looked rather sullen. The atmosphere was heavy.

  “Do you long for death?”

  “Not anymore.”

  You were relieved and concerned at that.

  “I try not to ask about the way you became a vampire,” He had told you about some of his past, in fragmented bits that you had pieced together. “But do you think it influenced the way you view it? Death?”

  “It changed everything. I forced myself not to care. The loss is endless and the crap is endless.”

  You ran a hand through your hair.

  “That is crazy depressing,” You breathed.

  Marshall didn’t reply. He took out a cigarette. He lit it. You would’ve as well.

  "It's been so long since I became a vampire. And I'm still mad about it..." 

  "I'm still mad about plenty of things that happened when I was a kid. I think most people still hold onto some things. Especially when they're that traumatic." You clasped your right hand over your left, careful not to brush the fingertips. 

  "You think so?" 

  "Yeah." 

  He took a drag of the cigarette. You wanted some kind of thank you, some response. You knew you weren't going to get it. It took him a lot to open up. And he was also high to an unknown degree. At least you two matched each other's weirdness.

 “You know what’s more depressing? My exes.” You snapped your fingers.

  "Want me to beg?"  He smirked.

   You stuttered in flustered confusion. 

  "What-?!" 

   Marshall laughed. 

  "The last time you mentioned your exes? Treehouse?”

  You covered your face.

“Oh… right. Don’t say that ever again, what the hell?"

  Marshall shrugged.

  “My last ex was a demon.”

  Marshall split his attention between you and the cigarette.

  “How’d you meet?”

"I don't recall..." You deflected, fidgeting.

  "You can't "not recall" meeting your demon ex, unless you were as high as Gumball's opinion of himself," Marshall scoffed. You tensed, sighing.

  “I was at a music festival and they threw up in front of my then partner’s sea lard. We started dating shortly after I broke up with said partner some years later.”

  “You’d think the main hurdle in our relationship would be that they were a demon and I was human. But no, the real villain was their struggle with emotional vulnerability and my trauma.” You placed your hand under your chin in thought.

 “What about that other partner?”

  “They were a demon too. And the previous one as well. Huh, all were demons.” You tapped your knee.

  Your eyes widened.

  “Do I have a type?!”

  Marshall held back laughter.

  “You only noticed?”

  You leaned on your hand.

  “Damn, I never thought about it for some reason. Is that weird?”

  “No. It is kinda funny though.” This cigarette was going way faster.

   The moon was high in the sky and you could see galaxies along with the stars.

   You laid on half of the cloth, feet on the grass. A dancing beetle crawled onto you and you shook it off, ending its party of one. You saw things in the sky you hadn’t seen before. Galaxies, stars, nebulas. You should’ve stopped to appreciate things more, small things that became ordinary. Your eyes shifted to Marshall briefly. He looked really cool. You turned your head to the hills. They were spotless.

  “Are you only into demons?”

  Your counting of the stars was interrupted.

  “I wouldn’t say so.”

  You weren’t sure.

  “What about vampires?”

  You partially sat up, but didn’t look at him.

“You’re the only vampire left.”

  He hummed in agreement.

 “I’d- I... I mean, sure,” You stumbled verbally.

  “What about a demon vampire?” You could hear the smile in his voice. You turned to see his gaze on you. You hid your smirk.

  “I’d give them a chance.”

  He hid a giddy expression with a cloud of smoke. Judging by the length of the cigarette, his last cloud. 

  He reached for another. His expression turned perplexed. He shook the box. Empty. 

  "Guess there were only two. I did smoke one while I was waiting for you..." 

  "Sorry for not flying," You sassed from the ground, flailing your arms for emphasis. 

  "You could've asked me to pick you up, you know?" 

  You were confused as you heard and felt the shifting of the cloth. Marshall disappeared. You turned your head around. You called his name unsurely, turning back around to sit up. Before you could, you felt weight on either side of you and watched in horror as Marshall appeared above you. He straddled you. Your face flushed and your brain shut down. 

  "Marshall, what are you doing?" You asked with a strained, worried tone.

  Marshall stared down and studied the details of your appearance. 

  "Hm? I wanna see who I'm talking to," He explained calmly. 

  Your hands dug into the cloth and you pressed yourself into the ground. Your breathing hastened much to your dismay. 

  You gulped as you looked around him, trying to find the least weird place to look at. Not his jean zipper. Probably not his bite mark. You looked into his eyes with desperation which he either ignored or didn't notice. 

  He smelled like that drug, a vaguely herbal and smokey scent, it burned away and clung to him. You could also smell artificial cherry, and it must've been him. Though maybe you were hallucinating. 

  Could he hear your heartbeat? Was that a thing? Those ears of his had to be good for something. 

  You feverishly rummaged around your pockets, pulling out a small box. 

  "You want gum?" 

  He opened his mouth. Fangs. Your brain was melting. 

  "It's red."  

  He closed his mouth and held out his hand, eyes half closed and ears relaxed. You put one in his hand, careful not to brush it, as though it was toxic. 

  Was he pulling your leg? Was it just another joke you didn't get? He liked that, didn't he? Did he? He couldn't. But he was mean. At times. 

  You looked up at the sky. 

  It was quickly covered by his frame, hands now at the sides of your neck. You didn't dare move. Though you couldn't control the rapid rising and falling of your chest.

  "Nervous?" He asked breathily. 

  You frowned. 

  "Uh..." 

  His pupils grew round. 

  "Your heartbeat is so fast. I can see the moon in your stars."

  "You mean... eyes?" 

  "What did I say?" 

   "Stars." 

  "Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting..." He mumbled, and you searched for the meaning on his face. What was he going on about??? 

  He got off you in a swift motion you didn't quite see in the moonlit night. You sat up with an owlish glare. 

  "Are you alright?" Your voice was gentle. You kept your distance. 

  He sat there silently, sucking the red from the gum in a flash. 

  "Do you need any help?" 

 Clearly, yes. His eyes glazed over his palms.

"My hands are so cold." 

  With anxious delay you sat down close to him, taking his hands and wrapping yours around them. Your breath stuttered.

  His grip tightened around you. You felt warmer even though his ice-cold touch, colder than his rings, sent goosebumps across your arms. His finger brushed your inner wrist. You bit your cheek, transfixed.

  "Even though I don't need warmth, this is nice," Marshall said serenely.

  "You don't need warmth?!" You barked.

   "Oops?" He smiled innocently, ears pinned back. 

  "You're so cold!" You whined. 

 "Yet I still make you heat up." 

  You frowned, and he watched your face. His nails became claws and left tantalizing trails. You felt your face rise in temperature.

  "Aw, I wish I could blush."

  "You could've just asked to hold my hands."

  "And you could've asked me for a lift. Why do we do this?" 

  "Cause we're two traumatized shut-ins." 

He put his head on your chest. Your breath stuttered in your lungs. 

   "Very deep."

   "I guess it is- OW!" You flinched as you felt a sharp sensation against your wrist. Marshall leaned back and turned over your right arm with his left. His fingertips were slightly tougher on that side. Your thoughts were proven correct. 

  Your face filled with worry as you saw blood on your arm. 

  "Shit, is this from me?" 

  "Where else would it come from?!" Your voice rang out in barely contained frustration. 

  "I- I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you, I'd never want to-" His voice suddenly became panicked, his puppy dog eyes filled with remorse. He met your eyes desperately, but you were too focused on the injury. It didn't hurt too much... it was weird. The night was weird. 

  "This was a mistake," He said. 

  "You mean... us meeting tonight?" 

  "No- me scratching you. And offering you drugs. And everything else."

  "Like you straddling me? Or asking if you should beg?" You huffed. 

  "... Yeah. I should be more careful with you." 

  You looked pissed.

  You took your arm away from him harshly, taking a bandaid from a pocket on your jacket and putting it over the scratch. You'd have to disinfect it later. 

  "You carry around a bandaid?" He rose a brow.

  "And a pick." You took out a small guitar pick from your shirt. 

  "Is that it?" 

  "I have a tiny watermelon with a face on it." You showed the plastic watermelon briefly before chucking it back in.

  You smoothed down the bandaid. Your touch lingered. It was hard to focus on anything else.

  "Again, I'm sorry. I just haven't been this close to anyone in ages."    You sighed. 

  "How long is ages, exactly?" 

  "There was a girl three years ago. And some... guy... hundreds of years ago." 

  You couldn't hide the surprise on your face. 

  "I assumed you had a lot more exes. In hindsight, it doesn't make sense knowing you. Still, feels wrong." 

  You kept talking for quite a while. 

  The moon was slowly drifting away, the horizon brightening. Heavy clouds rolled in and it seemed like it would rain. 

  "It's been fun, but I should probably go. I'm getting sleepy." You stretched as you began to get up. Your legs were falling asleep. Your eyes felt dry and your voice began to creak and deepen. You were thoroughly wasted and your common sense was drifting off with the moon. Your arm also hurt to move in the wrist area. You were over it though. 

  "Touché. Not long 'til the sun rises." 

  Marshall floated up. You almost forgot he did that.

  He began to float along you. You left soft dents in the grass. He left nothing. 

  "Aren't you gonna take that cloth?" You pointed back to the spot you had sat in all night.

  "Oh, that? It's not mine," He said calmly.

  "WHAT." 

  You blinked, face twisted in concern. 

  The ground beneath your feet was plush and the green was ridiculously vibrant even in the dark. You nearly fell over as you stopped at a fork in the hills, one towards Marshall's cave cottage and one towards your place. Your heart nearly lurched out of your body, suddenly set into a faster pace. You didn't notice that Marshall was ready to catch you. The treehouse would've been visible if you turned around. 

  "And this is where we say goodbye," Your voice broke the silence of the landscape with exhaustion-caused softness. 

  "C'mon, let me help you get back home. You're falling asleep," Worry and what you wanted to be care laced his voice. You crossed your arms with a lowering of your brows. 

   "I don't see how you could do that," You said skeptically.

   Marshall's knee-high sneakers touched the ground. He transformed into a giant bat in seconds. 

   "Oh, right." You felt your face flush. 

  His eyes were the same, but rounder and more upturned, with the black scleras much less visible. His ears had the same color but were like that of a bat. They retained their piercings, but were less noticeable. His nose was highly boopable, upturned even more. He was covered with black fur and his arms were wings, the skin fading from its usual hue to black at the claws. He must've been way over 4 meters tall. 

  He picked you up and placed you on his back. You yelped as you gripped his fur for stability. You were startled by how soft it was. The strands were like satin. You couldn't help but run your hands over it, lost in the sauce. 

  "Whoa..." 

  "Uhhh. What are  you doing there?" Marshall's voice took you out of your fixation. You flinched at it. 

  "Sorry!" You held your hands close to yourself. You heard him laugh faintly in response before you took off without warning. You couldn't even scream in shock as you felt like you were being yanked up and down simultaneously. 

  The ground shrunk beneath you and the gusts of wind that had been intensifying became an advantage to Marshall's flight. His wings moved quickly at first, and then he began to glide. Your heart began to slow as the pace evened out. You still looked, and were, utterly terrified. You had to move your jaw to pop your ears from the sudden rise of altitude. The prospect of being so high up was enough to kill you. But the clouds looked pretty, and your vehicle was calm. 

  After a while of undisturbed flight, you stopped caring about the past or the future or what could be or would be- you just cared about this moment. 

  It smelled of fresh petrichor. There was nothing interfering with the fresh air. It was a feeling like no other, and nothing would ever compare to it. If you could fly you'd never complain about anything. Why was Marshall such a dick if he could do this at ANY POINT?! Maybe it was only special to you because you experienced this rarely (never). Like you looking at the stars or at him, he had grown used to the wonders of flight, and it was just another thing, another automatic thing. 

  "Where do I go?" 

  You grimaced. You hadn't even told him where you lived. Oh shit. 

  "To the right! Over the river and forest! Behind the Candy Kingdom and Mountains, overlooking water," You yelled to the best of your abilities. 

  "I can hear you! I have bat ears," He replied. 

  "Great, because my throat hurts," You rasped. The good thing about him being old was that he had to know where that was. You hoped so. 

  You really didn't want to get off Marshall. He was fluffy, and you sneaked one last pet. Glob damn him for being so cute in that form. Not like he wasn't cute in his usual form. But that thought was gonna stay in your vault for the time being. 

  As you got into your house you struggled with the lock. As soon as you entered, you rushed around the house. 

  "I wasn't expecting anyone, so it's a mess in here," You muttered as you shoved stuff and junk under furniture with your shoe. You did so rather lazily, half-conscious. 

  Marshall followed you and spooked you with his lack of footsteps. He flicked on the lights, for your sake. The light assaulted your eyes and you groaned. 

  You dragged yourself to the couch and crumpled onto it, sighing at last, the familiarity of your house coercing you into that good night. Marshall was being uncharacteristically quiet and helpful. You felt unbelievably comfortable as you nuzzled into the smooth fabric. The world began to fade away. You felt a cold pressure on your shoulder, tugging. Your name was repeated several times. You hummed.

  "You gotta get to bed." 

  You opened your eyes minimally. You made incoherent noises. You were too comfortable and too tired.

  "I could carry you-" 

  Without letting him finish that sentence you shot up with a bewildered gaze.

  "NoImgood and suddenly feel veryawake," You interrupted. Marshall squinted at you suspiciously.

  As you were walking to your room you passed by a doorway. Marshall peeked in, disappearing in its darkness. You followed him in, turning on some lamps. Marshall floated over an instrument, pointing to it. 

  "What's that?" You swear you saw his eyes sparkle as he stared at it.

  "Omnichord." 

  "Can I try it?"  

  You nodded.

  He looked around the various buttons, the glinting strum plate catching his eye. He clicked the on button and pressed on A minor. He touched the strum plate. As soon as it made a warm shimmering sound his ears stood straight, gaze mystified. He did it again, dragging his finger against the strum plate. He looked over the plastic buttons and letters, clicking on some until he found a chord progression. 

  It was novel seeing him mess around. You leaned against the doorframe as a smile found its way to your tired face. You had that beautiful bastard in your house, in your music room, playing with this ancient shit like a kid. It was probably from around his time, too.

  "Where did you find this magical machine?" He looked over his shoulder. 

  "Gumball helped me get it." You flipped your wrist. He slowed his playing. 

  "Gumball." His tone wasn't happy. The atmosphere did a 180, but you didn't notice. 

  " Yeah, we're vaguely friends, without him, I probably wouldn't be able to find all this old tech." Your hands found their way around your body. You closed your eyes for a second.

  "Cool," You vaguely heard Marshall's faux chill tone. The darkness behind your eyelids was fuzzy. For a second, you'd just close them for a second...

  Your name resounded in your head. Again, and again, a chorus echoing in the dark. Cold on your shoulders and cool air around your face. Snowing? Was it snowing? Ice Kingdom? Ice cream? You scream? We all scream for her? 

  Your name close to your face. A familiar, melodic voice. You opened your eyes. Blurry. You looked around, neck movements slowed. You looked straight ahead. 

  "You fell asleep."

  You blinked, groaning. You blinked once more- the face- Marshall. You had never been so close to him. You could see his smudged eyeliner set with eyeshadow and his dark lashes, the furrows and crypts in his iris, all his glinting black metal piercings, the texture of his black lips. His brows lowered and you saw every hair. His hair, was it as soft as his fur? You reached up but stopped.

  "Oh shit. This isn't a dream?" You muttered as you froze. 

  Marshall instantly unhanded you. 

  "No." He looked at your hand, raised to the ends of his hair. He silently asked you what you were doing. You hummed in thought, dropping your arm. 

  "Just dreamed... of something... sorry," You mumbled. 

  The walk to your room was short. A minute at most. But now, it was like your body was in water, and everything was spinning in a washing machine inner drum. Your room smelled familiar, woody, a slice of nature. 

  You were about to close your door.    Marshall stopped it with his arm, startling you with the ease of his resistance to the pressure you put on the door. 

  "Wait-"

  You hummed in question. 

  "The sun- the sun is rising and it's raining. Can I stay the day?" He looked down at you with pleading eyes. You would've agreed to anything at this point. Sea lard in your bed? Sure. Cactus in your hair? Sure. Whatever you want, man. 

  "Of course. Take the couch," You forced out dryly, head nodding sleepily. You hoped he wouldn't steal your couch, literally taking it. Anything was possible with Marshall.

  "Sick-" 

  You shut the door and closed the lock, walking around your room as you discarded your clothes. All you wanted was the sweet embrace of the void, for a little reprise.       - Bonus!

-

  After you awoke, feeling like a corpse, you fixed yourself and with immense willpower, opened your door. You were mad hungry. The sun outside was setting. You must've slept for over ten hours. 

You found your kitchen empty of any vampire demons and ate anything you could get your hands on. 

  You carefully crept into your living room, looking around the corner. You saw a bat hanging off the chandelier. You frowned. 

  "What the what is a bat doing here?!" You clutched the couch, wondering how you'd get it out. 

  The bat flew down and turned into Marshall. You pursed your lips. 

  "Good morning to you too."

  You gulped. Oh glob.

  "... Good morning." 

[seancefemme]

yeah well you want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid

[ryssbelle]

Drew a bunch of Marinettes in a bunch of different artists styles it was a lot of fun!!

Artists who's styles I mimicked: @buggachat @hamsternamedmarinette @ladybeug @sabertoothwalrus and @anna-scribbles all epic artists 🤟😎

[ash-and-starlight]

hades atla bisexual simulator

[bluebird-ascended]

[echo-shard]

I don't know what to feel... Am I happy? Am I empty inside? 📕

[minteetho]

day 2 of pride month. day 2 of drawing dunmeshi characters and their respective modes of transportation

[sm-baby]

anyway, you guys should vote for [REDACTED FOR VOTE BIAS]

[cyancees]

probably the only time i'll draw jotakak . take it with no explanation actually adding an explanation cus i dont think ppl get it. few things overwhelm jotaro but this does and you know when u get autistically overwhelmed and scream at someone for no reason. yea

[tunapesto]

so when I die which I must do,

could it shine down here with you?

[candiedfright]

what if he smiled every now and then i think that'd be fun

[survival-horror]

happy lesbian visibility week to all my fellow dykes <333

paintings by me

"butch bait" and "femme bait"

both oil on canvas, 50 x 40cm

[serglesinner]

recently I've been infected by her and it's bad

[jewishcissiekj]

Asajj Ventress/female Sith concept by Dermot Power

[harbingersecho]

evil peepaw serving absolute cunt with his fur collar leather coat and fingerless gloves

[skittikyu]

somebody should get the carnival an actual alexa

(tadc carnival au belongs to @/sm-baby !)