#as opposed to simply drawing

[querido-eh-dump]

[adoredmarigold]

YOU hate the woman in twdg for being mean, messy, making stupid decisions, or being downright evil

meanwhile, I love them for it <3

[gailynovelry]

The great thing about being in charge of our own book design stuff is that we can, in fact, decide to go through a ridiculous amount of effort to create custom headers for every chapter.

We've gotten about two thirds of the way through Shadow Herald's headers right now. Downside; every time a chapter takes place in a new location, we have to draw that location. Upside; every time we draw a location, we can reuse it later. My gods do the shop interiors take forever.

[ego-sum-arbor]

I think I succeed in not being a horrible pedant on other people’s fanart of historical fiction, but oh boy is it directed at myself!!!

[schmabbald]

just the three of them

they could make it if we try anyway these are all slapdashed because i wanted to put my ideas down not make them look great. that's why dreads coat looks the way it does and why the weapons are p lackluster. i like these drawings anyway though. im a sucker for cute colours

[percythepagan]

spring in our forest means keeping an eye out for rogue trillium blooms

[chxrryhansen]

౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐑𝐘

Pairing; Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings; smut, dark themes, non con, breeding kink, oral- both receiving, degrading, size difference, unbalanced power dynamic, huge daddy kink, choking- to the point reader can’t breathe, dumbification, dacryphillia, spanking, steve is very dark in this, no aftercare!! i think thats it? Minors please DNI!!!!!

Summary; Steve Rogers, your boyfriend, the man everybody loved, his soul soft, standing against all evils. Until he got a taste of that sweet power. He became hungry. Now, you have no choice but to obey his rules. Can you bring him back to the light? Or is it too late? (it’s definitely too late)

here we have my first ever full fic! firstly i would like to give a huge thankyou to @dbnightingale24 for giving me the confidence and tips to write this! and another big thankyou to @evansbby and @hansensgirl for inspiring me in the first place for begin writing💘it’s around 3k words and i really put my all into this so please don’t forget to comment and reblog, i would love to hear all of your feedback!🫶🏻 much love, cherry.

₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

Steve Rogers, the man everyone respected, the man everyone believed in, looked up too. The man you used to cherish, his sweet boyish nature drawing you in from the moment you met. His pearly blues that used to soften as they fell on you, his gentle touch as he caressed your hair, the tender, loving kisses he used to leave all over your body.

Until Fury resigned that was.

Steve was officially the new director of shield, to which nobody opposed, i mean, who would right? He was Captain America, the man out of time. He was perfcet for the role. Strong willed, commanding yet understanding, he had respect for those beneath him and most of all he was compassionate, something that was hard to find in a good leader. This didn't last for long, of course.

Steve shortly became power hungry, his morals became more sick and twisted as his methods became more sadistic. He was violent, cruel…volatile. There was no bringing back Steve Rogers. The problem was he dragged everybody else down with him, nobody dared to stand up to Steve, too frightened of the consequences.

Tony couldn't talk Steve down, he tried for a while, attempted to reach out to him, guide him back to the light...but nothing worked. Tony couldn't do it, nor could you, not even his best friend of over a decade could sway his newfound mindset. You all figured it was best to keep your heads down from now on and follow Steves orders, no matter how out of line they seemed.

Not that you had a choice anyway.

Bucky was short to follow in his footsteps as his second in command. Both cruel and unforgiving. Your friendship with Bucky was practically non-exhistant, you no longer had movie nights together, giggling with big buckets of popcorn.

A simple nod of his head as he passed you down the hall was about as much as you would get. Steve wouldn't allow it now anyway.

Steve's display of affection changed alongside him, the love he made was no longer passionate, or gentle. In fact, he didn’t make love at all anymore… what he made was simply rough, hard, fucking.

The marks he left behind were no longer loving hickeys while he whispered in your ear, moaning sweet nothings as he gently thrusted his hips into your own. His eyes, gleaming with nothing but pure devotion.

They were bruises... bruises from how hard his hips slammed into your ass from behind, his grip tight on your hair, pulling and tugging as your skin became flustered at the impact of his thrusts. You missed the man he was. You often thought about that life while his cock was busy destroying your cunt. He didn’t care about your pleasure anymore, you were nothing but a hole for him to fuck.

From a distance you could hear Steves heavy boots storming down the coridoor. The sound was instantly unsettling. Your body recognising the noise as a trigger for an oncoming threat, sending you into alert mode.

You stood from your office chair on shaky legs, your posture rigid as he turned the corner to enter. His 6'4, stoic figure coming into view, casting a shadow that filled the room. His broad shoulders spread wide, his presence making your tummy tighten with unease.

He said nothing as he stared down at you, your fingers tugging at your short pink skirt- which he had chosen out for you this morning, the same way he customised your figure every morning. Claiming your dumb, baby brain was incapable of choosing an outfit that proved elegance and professionalism. In reality it was the complete opposite.

He liked to dress you in short skirts, ones that left little to the imagination, your asscheeks peeking out most days and revealing blouses, your tits practically spilling out of your shirts. You were highly sought after by the males at the compound before he came and scooped you up a few years ago.

They knew you were his, i mean he was your boyfriend for several years, you were what the female agents used to coo at, naming you as "couple goals". Where Steve went, you went, and vice versa. You were always seen smiling and giggling together, tag teaming on missons and holding hands as you explored the compound.

But, as steves power grew so did his insecurity. His possesive nature grew strong, wanting, no, needing to show other men you belonged to him, and only him. And you always would, whether you liked it or not.

"Get on your knees."

"Wh-What?"

"Get on your knees. You know i don't like to repeat myself." he growls while pushing your office door closed with one arm from behind, not daring to take his eyes of you.

You gulped as he stepped forward, caging you inbetween his thick biceps as you lean against your desk. One thing he was always good at was making you feel small. Even before all of this. Of course it wasn't anywhere near as threatening as it was now. He used to joke about how tiny you were compared to him, how he could pick you up with one hand, it was cute how big and protective he was of you.

Now, he used it to his advantage. He knew you feared him. He knew that you knew, you would never be able to run from him. He would overpower you every damn time with his brute strength.

There was no running from Steve Rogers. His thick beard scraped against your sensitive skin sending shivers down your spine as he groaned into your neck, your scent driving him wild.

He whispered darkly in your ear "Final chance. Get on your knees. Now, or you won't like what'll happen if you refuse me again."

You inhaled sharply, goosebumps spreading across your body in pure fear, or ecstacy. It was hard to tell these days. Steve had conditioned you so well to his own liking that even your body reacted to him in ways you would never fully understand. Or so he says.

Slowly you inched down towards the floor with your knees bent. The cold, rough flooring instantly proving to be uncomfortable as you figited. But Steve didn't care about that, why would he? His thick hand gripped your chin, forcing you to look up at him through hooded eyelids.

His thumb swipes across your bottom lip, he then pushes further, massaging your tongue as saliva begins to pool in your mouth. Removing his thumb slowly, he tugged on your bottom lip with pinched fingers. Before you even realised what was happening he shoves two fingers down your throat.

You sputter and gag around his thick digits, drool leaking out of the corners of your mouth, dripping onto the hard floor. Your eyes squeezed shut in pain as tears began rolling down your flustered cheeks.

His other hand is quick to grip your hair, tugging harshly. "You fuckin' look at me while daddy gags you with his fingers. Actin' like you don't get off on this shit. You love it. Say 'thankyou daddy'." he mocks with a high pitched tone.

Desperately trying to get the words out, you mumble around his fingers, seeming incoherent. He laughs darkly at your poor attempt, shoving his fingers deeper down your throat, gagging you one last time before pulling out.

"You gonna' be a good whore n' suck my dick? Huh? You fuckin' slut." His hand reaches down, pulling your shirt to the side, making your tits spill out. You hear him let out a loud groan, his pants tightening at the sight of your bare chest. He pinches your hard nipple roughly, rolling it roughly inbetween his index finger and thumb as you cry out, tears continuing to stream down your cheeks.

He shushes your cries gently as he begins to massage the same spot he previously assaulted making you keen with pleasure.

He had a thing for associating pain with pleasure, confusing your silly little brain into thinking the hurt he put you through was a good thing since pleasure soon followed. That he was rewarding you.

"Unzip me. Cmon' you dumb baby, take daddys fat cock out."

Listening to your own heartbeat in your ears, your head pounding with adrenaline, your fingers itch towards his pants. Which was apparently too slow for his liking as his grip on your hair tightens, making you sqeeze your eyes shut briefly before opening them, not wanting to anger him further.

You hurridly unzip his pants, reaching into his boxers and pulling out his cock. It's angry head pointing towards you as he grips the base with his other hand, slowing pumping his shaft over your face.

He pushes his bulbous tip into your closed lips, smearing his hot precum all over them. When you refuse to open your mouth he growls, pinching your nostrils closed. Feeling the air begin to leave your lungs, you gasp for breath and he's quick to shove his dick down your throat.

Gagging at the intrusion you cry harder, your lips stretching to fit around his thick length. his hips thrusting into your face as he fucks your throat harshly.

"That's it, you whore. Take daddys dick all the way down your throat. You fuckin' remember this the next time you try to refuse me."

His hand which was previously tugging at your hair moves towards your throat, holding you in a tight grip.

"Fuck... i can feel my fuckin' cock in that tiny throat of yours. Love it when you cry f' me, just makes me want to fuck you even harder, sweet girl." he grunts loudly over the sound of your gagging. Steve swiftly pulls his dick out as you keel over, coughing and sputtering, your throat sore from his brutal assault.

Before you even have a chance to gain your breath, his thick hands grip your shoulders, pulling you upright, bending you over your desk. Your legs shaking as he positions you so your ass is sticking out.

Lowering himself to the ground, he grips the flesh of your ass, squeezing roughly as he lifts up your skirt, briskly pulling your panties to the side. He shoves his nose into your pussy, groaning in delight at your sweet scent.

"Fuck i could live inbetween these slutty legs, your cunt's always ready for daddy, huh? Trained you so well." Your sticky juices smeared across your legs, dripping with desire, his facial hair bristling against your thighs making you squirm.

He mercilessly pushes his tongue as deep as it can go into your hole. You whimper as he laps up your wetness, his tongue prodding at your insides. Your arousal soaking his beard while your pussy clenched around his tongue. He pulls away for a moment, “God, how do you taste so fuckin’ good.” he groans.

Reaching back to grip his hair in your small fists, you go to push his face back into your cunt, completely overwhelmed with pleasure. His hand grips your wrist tightly, pining your arm to the desk, a sure reminder of who's in charge, seeming as you had forgotten your place. “Stay fuckin’ still or i’ll stop. Don’t you ever pull that shit again.”

You moan lewdly as he moves to latch onto your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around your sensitive bundle of nerves. Groaning into your pussy as he fists his cock.

Your eyes begin to roll back as your orgasm itches closer. Steve, realising this, pulls away once again. Your juices stringing from your clit to his lips as you cry out, your orgasm beginning to fade.

"Stop with the fuckin' whining. Daddy's gonna' fuck you now. Tell daddy how much you want his cock...Cmon. No need to act all innocent now." he pressures at your hesitation.

"P-Please daddy wan' you to fuck me."

"You can do better than that." Steve husks, giving your ass a harsh smack from behind, knowing your skin will blister from his force.

Your lips quiver as you cry, "Please! N-Need your cock inside me so badly, wan' you to destroy me for anybody else. Wanna' feel you in my cervix daddy, Jus' wanna make you feel good. Love how full you make me feel. Please...I-I'll die if you don't fuck me. Pretty pretty ple-."

and before you can finish your sentence your cut off by your own scream, his cock dissapearing inbetween your folds as he bottoms out with a singular thrust. Your legs become slack as your body spasms at the intrustion, his hands grip your hips, keeping you in place as you squirm, instinctively trying to escape his hold.

"F-Fuck, Y-Your so big daddy. It hurts so bad, p-pull out!"

"Shut up." he groans as his thick hand covers your mouth from behind. “Gonna fuckin’ dog fuck you til you can’t think of anything but this fat fuckin’ cock you dirty little slut, you hear me?” he practically growls as he begins to fuck you.

The sound of clapping skin begins to fill the room, agents around the compound sure to hear the way his dick bruitalises your cunt.

"Such a filthy girl i have, always so desperate for daddy to fuck you, even when you try and deny it, i know this sweet pussy would never lie to me." He coos in your ear as you sob, your face wet with tears and saliva.

"My messy whore, see what happens when you don't listen to me? You see what a mess you become? Fuck. You look so pretty like this, this is how you should always be, filled to the brim with my fat dick.”

Steve had always loved fucking you braindead, watching as your eyes glaze over and your tongue begins to hang out of your mouth, drooling all over yourself. It made him feel powerful, like you were dependent on him. Which you were in a sense, always so needy and desperate for him to fuck you.

The impact of his animalistic thrusts turn your skin raw as he speeds up. His arm wrapping around your waist, pressing you close to him as he spreads his legs further apart, hitting a new angle inside your pussy. You let out a loud wanton moan as his balls slap against your clit.

“F-Fuck yes! H-Harder daddy.”

“Yeah? You like that? I know you do, it’s okay. Is my little girls brain goin’ fuzzy? Huh? Poor girl.” Steve mocked, amusement clear in his tone. "M' gonna' cum. Daddy please can i cum?" you whine, the knot in your stomach tightening, a warning that your orgasm was near.

"Yeah baby? You gonna' cum for me you dirty whore? Go ahead, cum all over my dick. Can feel you clenching around me, grippin' me like a fuckin' vice."

Your cream coats his length as you let out a muffled cry, biting your lip harshly as you cum.

"T-Thankyou daddy. Feels s-so good..." you babble, your thick cream creating a ring around the base of his cock. Your weight giving out once again as Steve holds you, smirking as he watches you come undone, giving you no escape from his relentless thrusts.

His thick shaft pummeling your insides as you scream with ecstacy, your pussy throbbing as he fucks you through your high.

"F-Fuck look at that... love watching your cream leak around my cock, taking this dick so good for me. Gonna' cum inside you...yeah? You want daddy to fill you up?" he groans as his own orgasm nears, talking himself through it.

"God, this cunt treats me like a fuckin' king. It's coming baby, daddys gonna cum, Oh fuck fuckkk." his hips twitch and his balls throb as his load begins to fill you, shooting out thick ropes of hot cum into your pussy. Moaning at the sensation of his warmth inside you.

“Take my fuckin’ cum. That’s it, good girl. Love watchin’ your pussy swallow my hot fuckin load, bet you love it too, hm? You slut.” he pants, exhausted from the brutal fucking he just gave you.

He snaps out of it almost instantly, pulling out without warning and tucking his softening cock back into his pants.

Giving your ass a harsh smack, he steps back. You turn to look at him, your eyes glazed over. He stares at the ground with no emotion as he combs his locks with his fingers, making himself seem presentable.

Hope fills you, your heart races as you lick your lips in anticipation, wondering if he will stay to comfort you and hold you the way he used to many months ago.

But he doesn't. You get nothing but a short glance as he turns to exit your office, slamming the door shut on his way out. You slump down against the floor, a complete mess.

Your soft cries turn to sobs, breathing rapidly, your hands gripping your hair as you raise your knees to your chest. It was almost as if he had you in a trance when he was burried inside your cunt, as soon as he was done it was like the fog in your brain had cleared.

People told you there was no bringing the old Steve back, that your sweet, caring boyfriend was gone. Replaced by a monster.

You didn't want to believe them... but maybe you should've.

[luveline]

i'm missing coworker!james so much... is he doing okay?

James is poorly :( fem

James is a cruel kind of ill. Desperate to escape the dreaded ‘man flu’, he tries hard to portray the common cold. Doesn’t whine, groan or moan, simply suffers the near constant sneezing and his twinging neck without comment. 

Luckily, he has two —two! because you like him enough to be concerned! barely!— nice deskmates who ply him with tea and worry alike. 

“Did you take that antihistamine?” Remus asks. 

“I did, yeah. You watched me take it an hour ago and try as I might, I haven’t regurgitated it yet.” 

“Don’t be disgusting, he’s just worried,” you say. 

A month ago, you might’ve said it with deep, genuine ire. James annoys you and his choice of imagery is hardly workplace appropriate, but for some reason you’re good to him lately. You’re softening, and why shouldn’t you be? James is a boy worth softening for. 

He sneezes hard into a tissue in his palm and knocks the desk, sending his small crowd of figurines skittering, their light green bodies scuffed with scratches. They fall over each day. You like rearranging them. 

You also like feeding James biscuits, and pretending you don’t like him. Or maybe pretending you do. It’s hard to tell what’s real. 

“Jesus,” he says, forgetting to be demure as he drops his forehead against his closed fist. “I can’t take it much longer.” 

“You need to calm down, is all. Every time you sneeze you trigger the inflammation in your nose, which makes you more likely to sneeze again,” Remus says. He doesn’t sound particularly pitying, but he does then stand to grab James’ mug as he heads to the kitchen. 

In an office made up of mostly Brits, it’s extremely common for everyone to make one another a tea or coffee when they get one for themselves, but it’s a sweet gesture for Remus to keep James topped up nonetheless. It also provides for moments like this: you and him alone. Not awkward anymore. 

“Do you have painkillers?” he asks.

You open the drawer of your desk and offer him your pouch. “Here.” 

Inside are many things. A box of lil-lets, plasters in sterile wrappings, throat soothers, ibuprofen, a treasure trove of cures for little ailments. 

“Just, help yourself to anything you want.” 

“You’re an angel.” James unveils a shiny purple chocolate bar. “I can have Freddie?”

“Freddo,” you correct. “Come on, James, it’s on the packet.” 

He doesn’t truly want it. He doubts he could taste it, and he drops it back in. 

“Oh, no, you can have it!” you say, softer. “I’m just being pedantic.” 

“Thanks, but I don’t think I can do chocolate right now.” 

“Right, um… well, I have a sandwich?” 

“What kind of sandwich?” he asks. 

“One of those impossible BLT’s. But I can get you a proper sandwich, James. They have those sesame seed rolls in the vending machine.” 

James doesn’t understand why you’re being so nice to him. “I must look awful,” he murmurs, letting his aching, pulsing head drop onto the desk. He sniffs uselessly. Fuck, he hates work. Why can’t he go home?

“You never look awful,” you say. 

James turns his face to see you’ve lowered your own, resting your cheek in your hand, your knuckles grazing the table. 

“You’re being too nice to me. I’m dying.” 

“You’re the one who’s mean to me, James. I’m your unwilling victim.”

“As opposed to being my willing victim.” James hates being ill, his lips are dry and his throat feels sharp and he’s changed his mind, he does want the Freddo. “Please be nice to me again.” 

“You know what’s good for this? Nasal spray. That’ll fix you.” 

“You could fix me,” James says. You don’t answer. He presses his nose to the table. “My days are always good ones when you can't be bothered to pretend you don’t like me.” 

“Who says I’m pretending?” 

James whines. “That’s worse.” 

You tease a bit of his hair behind his ear. James is content to let you, content to never move again, balmed by the softness of your touch as you draw along the outline of his ear to his jaw. “Don’t press your glasses into your nose, you’ll start sneezing again,” you whisper. 

James refuses to move. “Stroke my hair,” he demands.

“No way.”

“You’re no fun.”

“But I’m having a much better day than you are.” 

He sulks. This is exactly why James hides your stuff and leaves you off of email chains you should probably be in. You’re horrible, awful, evil, with no sympathy for him and no friendliness, either. James was far better off when he was solely annoyed at you, and not whatever useless state of being this is where his mood depends on your willingness to make friends. If James could, he would—

“Are you okay?” you say, your voice as soft as your fingertip where it traces slowly through his curly hair. “Maybe you should go home and rest. I’m worried about you…” 

James might fall in love with you if you keep whispering sweet stuff like that. You hesitate at the nape of his neck before dragging your hand up through a tuft of curls. 

“If you don’t get better soon, your voice will go and I’ll have to talk to Lang and Co. on the phone again. You know I hate their finance team leader,” you finish. 

You sound so pretty that James almost misses your slight. Then decides he’ll allow it as long as you keep stroking his hair.  —

coworker james au

[satoruhour]

a/n: INTENSE rambling about gojo’s dimples / jjk manga spoilers (alluding to a physical feature of gojo, rather than a plot point) + includes manga panels under the cut + mini barbie spoilers? lol, just a warning if you haven’t watched it! / 0.8k ✶

if satoru notices your recent fascination with his smile, he doesn’t say anything, and rather lets your finger trace over the skin of his face. over the stark white lashes of his eyes to the peculiar double eyelids that ran through the gojo clan. your fingers like to leave trails of unspoken admiration over the skin of his pale cheeks, blushed red from the cold of the tokyo winter to the plump, shiny pair of lips — it’s because he liked to lick them so much.

it first starts out when you’re on the brink of death (gojo puts it that way, you were just immensely tired from fighting a regenerative curse) that you’ve made such a startling discovery, poking at the dip in his cheek in an almost robot-like way before you let out one last sigh, fainting from the fatigue.

and later in shoko’s office, you’re doing it again to his sleeping form, angled toward you while he sat in an uncomfortable chair, hand tightly clutching onto yours. the sight melts your heart, moreso when he leans into your gentle finger, drawing over the familiarity of your love.

“baby! baby, oh my god, you’re awake— let me go get s—”

“stay with me, ’toru,” you mumble, already feeling tired again from the toll which took over your body.

the same soft smile that he donned matches the one in the kitchen just a week ago, enjoying the mediocrity of the morning with your lover. gojo is situated between your legs as you brush the hairs from his face, staring at you with a tug on his heart and trembling breaths. your hands have abandoned your coffee cup, left to the side while you just map out the coordinates of his eyes, his sharp nose, the same plump lips that now frequents your strawberry lip balm.

“why’re you so pretty?” you mumble mindlessly, thumbs subconsciously dipping into the dimples beside his smile. the smile that is only reserved for you, like the one in shoko’s office.

gojo’s smile widens into a grin now as he leaves the question unanswered, mainly because he’s wondering why you’re the one asking the question when he feels like you could rival a goddess and win by miles; when he feels like the ache of his knees from worshipping you is worth every bruise.

“should be asking you that, sweetness,” satoru’s voice is raspy from just waking up, scooting closer to the kitchen counter which you’re propped on and pulling your closer, “you paralyse me each time my eyes lay on you.”

you roll your eyes with a giggle, leaning in for a soft kiss laced with dawn’s morning light of blue and purple, humming needily when you feel his hands wander over your body, squeezing and kneading at your waist. and before he turns away to go ahead with the day (not without a little complaining and more kisses — he’s just so drunk on you), he doesn’t miss the way your eyes drop to his lips again, or rather, to the right side of his mouth.

satoru makes a mental note to ask you about it the next time you do it, a stroke of luck when you’re having movie night two days later and instead of staring at ryan gosling yell “SUBLIME!”, you’re admiring gojo’s smile once again and the slight tip of his head when he giggles at the movie.

“you’re not entirely secretive, y’know?” the other simply pulls you closer, satisfied with having you under his embrace and relishing in being able to see how your cheeks heat up with his six eyes. he’s watched barbie once already, so he doesn’t exactly need to pay attention.

“why’d you keep poking my cheek, baby, hm?” gojo is not opposed when you straddle him on the couch, bringing two thumbs to the corners of his mouth and pulling, an exaggerated smile spreading across his face that you can’t help but let out a loud laugh; he catches your wrists and laughs with you, littering little kisses to your fingers.

“why do you like my smile so much?”

“nothin’,” you whisper, “it’s more of your dimples, actually.”

“oh?” gojo’s lips stretch into a smile he usually gives his students, finger feeling around on his cheek for the familiar dip. to be honest, even he didn’t really pay attention to his features, pressing incessantly at the area once he’s found the dimple. “didn’t even know i had…”

“oh, you do!” satoru trails off as he lets you ramble about the many many times you’ve seen it, focused more on the way your eyes gleam in the dim living room light. he’s fixated on the smell of your shampoo and the illumination of your body from the tv’s light.

at least, in this hour, the sorcerer could wish for everything a normal life could bring; a life where he isn’t weighed down by the title of the strongest, where he could listen to you talk about the features on his face and watch barbie with you.

gojo satoru learns more and more about himself through the lens of your eyes — a love letter sealed with the saccharine strawberry you apply every morning and your whispered confessions that hold a multitude of suns to leave his fingertips blazing and heart soaring.

god i love him sm :(

[letoasai]

Vlad- Alternate Obsession

Simply if Vlad hadn't been so obsessed with Maddie. How priorities might have shifted.

~

Daniel was dead. Great god almighty… He was dead. Half dead. Whatever. That didn’t matter. The little details were just there to make a horrible situation more tolerable. For one brief moment, Vlad hoped he was wrong. Hoped that this was merely exposure to ectoplasm or a sign that Daniel would become liminal faster than previously predicted, but no. He was sure. Daniel was dead. 

He watched as Daniel’s ghost sense was triggered, the teen coughing a second later. He looked around warily, holding himself rigidly. He was alert, but inexperienced enough to not realize Vlad was right in front of him. 

“Daniel, my boy!” Vlad greeted, finally untangling himself from Jack and Maddie’s latest tirade on being validated in their research. “How is school?”

It wasn’t uncommon. 

He was Daniel’s godfather after all, and had done what he could to be present for both Daniel and Jasmine since they were born. The children were exempt from his contempt and his affection for them was genuine but he’d never feared for them until this moment. 

Vlad tried to block out as many memories from his college years as he could. After his accident and subsequent half death, he had raged for a while. He’d been in despair, learning to mourn himself while handling abilities foreign to him. He had to learn things from scratch opposed to normal ghosts who knew things instinctively. 

He’d only briefly lost track of Jack and Maddie after his hospital stay but the urge to look them up again had gnawed at him. He had notebook after notebook filled to the brim with his own research on ghosts and ectoplasm but he would have been remiss to shun their research just because he couldn’t stand the sight of them. It was Jack’s blunder that had changed him after all. 

The pair had gotten married, and had a baby girl, but Vlad found himself more interested in their labs than their domestic life. The fondness he’d felt for his best friend, and the passion he’d once directed at Maddie had died with him. 

Jasmine had been a bright spot, and a wonderful distraction in those early visits. A small child also kept the Fentons busy enough that he could slip into their labs undetected. Copying their work and altering their inventions to ignore his own ecto-signature was essential. As far as he could tell, they’d never suspected a thing. 

Daniel coming along had been a blessing, even if it had confused Vlad at the time. Jack and Maddie loved their children but they were always complaining about not having enough time for their research. It had always been to Vlad’s benefit but adding a second child into the mix would only draw out their parental duties. 

However it baffled it, it benefited him. He only had to offer his jovial congratulations and time went on. 

Vlad…was aware that he was not who he once was. He’d either lost something when he half died, or gained something. He wasn’t sure. He was no longer naive. He’d done things in the last twenty or so years. Not all of them he was incredibly proud of. He had amassed a fortune, but it had seemed the natural progression of things at the time. He’d been young, desperate and dead. He’d need money to further his research so money needed to be acquired. 

He’d had medical bills…. Then he had ambitions. 

He might have been something of a thief, a criminal, but he’d never hurt anyone…to his knowledge… 

It was easier on his conscience when it was only stealing from Jack and Maddie. That felt like recompense for what Jack had done to him. He’d had a working portal a full four years before the Fentons. 

He’d never said a word about it and delighted in the secret of it. His wealth of knowledge was greater than theirs. When the pair had recently called him, gushing about their achievement, he’d been skeptical, but he’d seen Amity Park’s newspaper articles on the ghost of a lunch lady at Casper High, and the poor picture quality of a white haired menace that chilled him. 

“Hey Uncle Vlad.” Daniel greeted him with a smile, but his eyes were wary and stressed. Dark circles were beginning to form. “School’s, uh, good? Same old bullies. I gotta read Pride and Prejudice. Aced my last math test though.” 

Vlad hummed and nodded. “That about sums up my memories of high school as well.” It pulled a smile from Daniel. 

“And a ghost sighting! To think we’d find one so close to home! We’re pulling out all our weapons out of their testing stages!” Jack’s voice boomed, overly excited at their find and completely missing the way his son shrank back. 

“A stake out might be in order.” Maddie said, a smile in her voice. Her excitement was more contained but was very real. “Who knows, we might be there to capture the next one.” 

Vlad made a show of rolling his eyes and focused on Daniel. “What is freshman math anyway these days?” 

“I’m taking geometry.” Daniel said, latching onto the topic. “I got the hang of it pretty quickly. So far at least.” 

“You always did have a head for numbers.” Vlad said conversationally. 

“Vladdy! Come take a look at the newest prototype!” Jack was beaming, far too excited over the notion of ending a creature that was already dead. Vlad didn’t care for the sparks of fear that settled in his throat. An ending after the end was final, and terrifying. 

“Jack.” Vlad laughed good-naturedly. “Surely there’s time for that later. I did just arrive. I’d love to speak with Daniel for a while. High school will pass by before you know it.” 

Maddie just sighed, perhaps nostalgic. “It sure does. It won’t be long before Jazz is graduating.” 

“And entering into the ghost hunting business!” Jack declared. 

“Oh, Jack.” Maddie just laughed. 

“Where is Jasmine?” Vlad asked, his need to check on her…sudden. 

Maddie looked thoroughly. “Oh, hm.. She’s…” 

“Tonight’s the night she tutors.” Daniel said, sounding exhausted. “She’ll probably eat dinner before coming home.” 

“Oh, that’s right.” Maddie smiled, but she was already distracted with the toaster she was dismantling. 

Vlad hummed, oddly relieved. As the children had gotten older, their well being came into question more and more. “Well… Jack, you and Maddie seem to have your hands full this evening. Why don’t i take Daniel to dinner? I’d love to hear about his freshman year anyway.” 

“Can we get Nasty Burger?” Daniel perked up. 

Vlad snorted. “Not my first pick, or my second, but why not?” He’d eaten more burgers than he could count in college.  

“Really!? Yes!” Daniel grinned, “I’ll grab my hoodie, be right back!” 

“Danny sure loves your visits.” Jack laughed loudly. 

Maddie just hummed, still focused on what she was doing. “Don’t spoil him.” She said vaguely. 

“You won’t have to worry about a thing.” Vlad said, already turning back to the door. "I'll take care of him." By the time he got there, Daniel was behind him, practically pushing him out the door. 

“Let’s go, let’s go.” 

~ 

Vlad felt himself relax once he had Daniel in his car. He would definitely need to sneak back into the Fenton’s lab and grab whatever new information was available. He would also need to add in Daniel’s ecto-signature to their equipment before something automatically shot at him. 

He needed to address this. He couldn’t let the Fenton’s mistake harm anyone else. He’d shut their research down if he had to. He'd shut his own down if he had to.

He cringed at the thought. 

“Daniel, wait.” Vlad said after he’d parked in the most secluded spot the parking lot to Nasty Burger provided. “Before we eat, i would like to talk to you?” 

“Yeah? Sure.” Daniel said. His tone was light and playful. Normal. The color however, drained from his face. “Do i even gotta bother to tell you to call me Danny again?” 

Vlad smiled faintly. “I quite like the name Daniel, you know? That’s not however, what i wanted to talk about. Let me be clear, this conversation does not leave this car. Not by you. Not by me.” 

“Oh, uh. Yeah? Yeah, of course.” Daniel said, turning sideways in his seat to face him. “What…are we talking about?” 

“Ghosts.” 

Daniel sighed. “C’mon Uncle Vlad. Don’t i get that enough from mom and dad?” 

Vlad shook his head and reached out to grab Daniel’s shoulder. “No, listen to me. It’s safe to talk to me, and i will not ask about… whatever accident you must have had-” Horror was all over Daniel’s face. Enough time hadn't passed for him to mask his reaction to his death. “But i understand, Daniel.” 

“I don’t know what you mean?” Daniel muttered and winced when it didn’t sound the least bit convincing. For just a split second, he turned invisible. He probably hadn’t even realized he’d done it. Most would assume their eyes were playing tricks on them. 

Vlad leaned forward and opened the glove compartment, pulling out the article of the ghost attack on Casper High. “You’re not in trouble. Not with me.” 

Daniel only glanced at it before looking away again. He’d seen it already no doubt. “It’s not what you think.” 

“I’m very sure it is.” Vlad said softly. “I know all too well what ectoplasm and trauma can do. I can sense death around you.” He paused before pushing forward. “In time, i’m certain you’ll be able to sense it on me too.” 

Daniel’s lips tightened, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew what he heard and was proceeding with caution. “What do you mean?” 

“We’ll get some dinner to go and we’ll head back to my house here in Amity.” Vlad said. “And i’ll show you my own ghost form.” 

“Yours…” Daniel sounded winded. “When did you…?” 

“Long before you were born.” 

“My parents…?” 

Vlad just tsked. “They were dear to me once, Daniel, but they are fools. No, they don’t know about me, and i will not tell them about you.” 

“Don’t.” Daniel said, somewhere between agreeing and begging Vlad to mean what he said. The tremor in his voice told Vlad all he needed to know. He was well aware of how his parents would react. He was afraid. 

“It will stay between us.” Vlad said calmly. “I won’t ask. It’s breaking all kinds of ghost etiquette to be so nosy but if you ever want to talk to me about what happened, you can. I can also help you adjust.” 

“Can you?” Daniel asked immediately, the closest he’d come to admitting Vlad was right. 

“I’ve never had to teach anyone to use ghost powers before, but yes, I think i can offer you some insight.” Vlad said. “Falling through floors?” 

“Yes.” Daniel said with feeling. “I keep dropping things. My clothes…” 

Vlad nodded along, all of it sounding familiar. “I know all about it. You just need to get used to it. Gain control over what you can do.”

Daniel swallowed, looking like he’d have a meltdown any second. “You promise?” 

“I do.” 

He inhaled slowly. “I…died.” 

“Yes,” Vlad said softly. “I’m so sorry…” 

“You’re…” He watched Daniel’s expression crumble. He didn’t have to ask why. How did you mourn your death when you were still half alive? It had taken Vlad years… “Sorry.” 

“So sorry, my boy.” Vlad said, sounding choked up. “It never should have happened. Not to someone else. Not to you.” 

Daniel bowed his head only seconds before he started to sob. It didn’t matter why. Was it stress? Was he starting the process of mourning? Was it the knowledge that he’d lost a piece of his family? It didn’t actually matter… 

Vlad leaned closer as far as he comfortably could in the car and pulled Daniel to cry against his shoulder. It was all the comfort he could really offer. He couldn’t make it better, he could only put a band-aid on it. He couldn’t change the Fenton’s minds. Not for Daniel and not for himself. They were always going to be in danger, but he could listen. He could be everything for Daniel he didn’t have. He could let the boy cry. He was only fourteen. 

God, at least Vlad had been in college. Daniel was a child… 

“Does your sister have any idea?” 

Daniel shook his head, hiccuping in an effort to catch his breath but he just cried still. 

“At least she’s still safe. You and i will work up a few safety protocols and… i’ll stay in Amity Park.” The castle in Wisconsin had really been the height of his arrogance. 

There was so much to teach the boy. Not just how to use his powers but ghost manners and taboos. He’d learned a lot himself in the last few years of having his portal up and running. Access to the Ghost Zone had made things a great deal easier on him. 

Daniel wrapped his arms around him, clinging in a way he hadn’t since he was a much younger child. He hadn’t had any time at all to come to terms with his own death, but this was a start. 

If Vlad needed to cook up a few excuses for getting him away from his parents, well… he’d been bored anyway.

Master List

~ It'll hit differently when Skulker shows up to hunt the halfa welp and is instead met with a fully grown, pissed off halfa in mama bear mode.

[genderless-naper]

muddy problems

trafalgar law x gf!reader

warnings: fluffy law

sfw, wc: 1k, lowercase intended !

helping your tired law through shower time

law walks through the halls of the polar tang tirelessly. he didn’t expect the most recent encounter with another pirate ship to be such a headache to handle. the captain of the opposing crew was was a devil fruit user: the user of the mud-mud fruit.

needless to say, it was hard for anyone to contain their laughter when law walked passed looking like he just got out of a mud bath. he wouldn’t usually be this forgiving, but he was simply too tired to deal with them. he kicked off his shoes before entering his room.

he saw you laying in his bed reading a book without a care in the world. his gaze softened slightly while drawing a loud breath to release some tension. you looked up at the raven-haired man.

you stared. he stared back.

you hold a hand over your mouth to suppress a laugh. it took every fiber in your body to restrain yourself from rolling on the floor in laughter.

you cleared your throat to greet him, “who knew the tough trafalgar law would fall victim to a mud bath in the middle of a fight?”

law doesnt reply to your statement. instead he focuses on discarding ed his current wear to avoid getting the place more dirty. he had bigger problems to worry about than some rhetoric questions. he needed to get clean fast. the mud on him started to make him feel suffocated.

he looks for a clean pair of clothes to wear for post shower. you close your book and put it on the bedside table so you can follow him. still fighting back laughs you continue to ask, “how many shampoo rinses do you think it takes for that mess to get out your hair?”

law sighs in his tired state and mumbles, “hopefully no more than 3”

you cant help but let a laugh escape, “just 3?? don’t you think you’re being s bit too generous captain? i was thinking at least 5!”

he groans quietly. it was clear the doctor was more exhausted than he would like to admit. you felt bad for your poor lover. as much as you would like to pick on him and his unusual circumstances you knew that wasn’t what law needed right now. he needed your support.

you ran to the bathroom to get his shower started for him. you made sure the temperature was just how he liked it. he followed momentarily; throwing his clean clothes on the shelf of the bathroom as a yawn escapes his lips.

he continues to discard the remainder of his mud soaked clothes while carefully placing them in a bag. he checked the temperature before getting in. another sigh escaping his lips. you smiled contently watching the way the water rolls off his skin, his muscles stretching with every moment, and how his lips part perfectly.

his rinses his hair with shampoo over and over. each wash just made him feel like the mud would never get out. after a few more moments he gives up. he decided to sit for a moment and let the water hit his strained body as he rubs his tired eyes.

you sympathize with you poor boyfriend. you turn the water off and rub his tense shoulders, “maybe i should help you baby? you see like you’ve had a long day”

law, being too prideful to accept your help, shook his head and responded lowly, “i just need a second..”

you hum, “you take a second and ill work on getting this mud out your hair.” you lathered the soup onto your palms and massaged it into the raven colored hair. you were on your knees to match his height as he sat. you massaged his scalp in order to clean every strand.

law’s senses of alertness slowly slipped away. he closed his eyes, and tried his best to keep his head up straight. after swaying from side to side you decided its best to rest his head on your chest as you worked through his hair. he created a soapy mess on your shirt. the man was too engulf in his own drowsiness to notice. you hum a sweet tune into his ear and watched as most his tense muscles relaxed with your touch.

he would never let anyone close like he has with you. sometimes he feels stupid to let his barriers come down for you, and feeling too afraid that something bad will happen to you as well. as much as law protests against himself he still finds himself sharing cherished intimate moments with you.

you guide the heavy-lidded man through the rest of his shower while reciting words of encouragement. getting your shirt wet in the process was a small price to pay to help your lover. once the shower concluded you turn it off and hand him his towel.

the tattooed man dries himself with it slowly. he slightly furrows his brows and points to your shirt, “why are you all wet?” completely oblivious to the consequences of his actions. you shook your head and giggled, “no specific reason baby”

he gave you an apologetic look after realizing he was the reason for your current soaked state. you quickly disregarded with lines of ‘it’s okay’s and ‘don’t worry’s. you gave him his clothes once he’s ready.

he grabs your arms and holds them up to pull your drenched shirt off. he wore his clean shirt on you, “i dont want you to get sick y/n, especially if its because of me.” you were going to protest against, but after seeing the look of anxiousness taking ahold of him you decided its best to accept his acts of kindness.

he always does everything in his power to make sure you are well; afraid to live in a world where he has to grieve you along with other which were once present in his life. it shows very much during moments like these. you place a few kisses on his lips feeling luckier than a lottery winner. you helped your tired boy navigate through the rest of his routine before he fell into bed. he lifted the cover up to make sure you followed in his steps. the mud-soaked version of himself from earlier that day became a part of the past. he enjoyed what he had at that very moment, and that was your beautiful self with a smile that lights your face. it was truly able to cure any disease of his heart. that night law had no trouble falling into an imaginative dream where you two lived together without a care in the world

[innaillus]

Drawing Ryōmen Sukuna

Development notes

This post has been in the making since last year, before the manga has reached its current arc. My aim was to respond to comments that pointed out that my version of that time didn't look like the one in the anime. I calculate everything I do and the way I do it. My current goal is to share my thoughts on the development of my take on him - simply because I'm a nerd when it comes to anatomy and I love figuring things out. It involves a lot of thinking, questioning, analysis, dissecting information and building theories. So I totally understand if it's not anyone's cup of tea.

MANGA SPOILER WARNING

The very beginning

I used to have a serious case of lack of self-confidence. My earliest art of Sukuna dates back to 2021, but it always felt like my skills are not worthy of this particular character. I never shared my art. I was also struggling to find my artistic voice. I was obsessed with the idea of semi-realism, but even if I managed to pull it off after weeks of stylisation practices, I didn't like the results.

Due to personal reasons, I stopped trying to draw him for a long time.

The development of "my" version

It was an entirely conscious decision to draw him differently.

The top reasons for the change was that I didn't want to sexualise him in his host, Yuuji, who is a minor. Back then I thought he inflicted the deformation on himself (extra limbs, eyes, etc), for the sake of efficiency, and I was curious what he looked like before that - or what he would look like in a civilised environment.

During the process, I considered a number of factors:

the beauty standard of the other JJK men - I wanted him to fit the lineup - his original appearance made him stand out quite much

in a setting where he adheres to the rules of society, more or less, I believe his MBTI personality type (ENTJ) would dictate a lot of his choices when it comes to appearance, at least to a certain extent. I thought he would choose to have an appearance that fits the beauty standards of the era

I kept his tattoos because it's a very distinguishing feature of him, but I also exercise freedom in the way I draw them, to make them as stylish as possible

Reincarnation

I used to believe once he reincarnates, his proportions would be closer to that of a "normal" human, even if he has some extra limbs. However, his size and features are above and beyond of what we are used to, and even the story emphasises their malformed appearance. So a a whole new era of Sukuna started in my art. I chose my favourite manga panels of him and mix-and-matched the most attractive features into a figure that I consider on the fine edge of monstrosity and unconventional handsomeness.

Even when I draw him with a regular number of limbs, I keep his usual mass and proportions. I dubbed this form "true gains" form.

I also realised that some of the tattoos Yuuji's body displayed was a product of the partial reincarnation stage, like we see it on Tsumiki's forehead.

NOTE: Did anyone notice that Sukuna is getting progressively more and more human/handsome in the manga? When he took over Megumi's body, I also noticed that as the story progressed, he started to look older and more mature. I'm curious of it was a conscious decision.

Twin dilemma and speculations

According to the Japanese wikipedia page, the mythical figure Sukuna could have been a conjoined twin. Despite my extensive digging in the matter, I was shocked by the recent lore drop.

My question: what does Sukuna look like in a universe where he did not absorb his twin in the womb during development?

It hasn't been confirmed, but I find it very possible now that he was born with his extra limbs, eyes and mouth, as well as the deformed, wide features. (...as opposed to my first theory about him altering his own body for the sake of efficiency)

This, however, would mean that in a universe where both him and his brother are born healthily, he would look different. There is the obvious lack of extra arms, eyes and mouth - but I believe he would also be closer to the JJK beauty standard of men, as far as proportions go (eg. more narrow face, anime-esque nose, larger eyes).

At first I was hesitant to accept this idea, as I'm very attached to the 4-arm hulk / "true gains" form now, but then I realised: this would mean that "my"version of him actually has logically explainable place in at least an alternate universe.

Thank you if you got this far.

I may edit this post later. Let's see where the story takes us.

[kradogsrats]

Now we know What Viren Did(tm), and...

My personal side-eye aside, that denouement is actually an incredibly elegant application of the story's themes, within the scope of restrictions imposed by this particular medium (i.e. a cartoon targeted for pre-teens and younger). Like, I personally assumed for a long time that we would simply never find out the details, because it would be either too grim and/or violent for the story's intended rating or... kind of a let-down. On the surface, what we got seems like the second.

Most of us have looked at Claudia killing the baby deer to heal Soren's paralysis and went "well, it was obviously that, but y'know... worse, somehow," which is a completely reasonable assumption to make. It was definitely what was narratively implied, which makes the supposedly-damning ingredient being "your mother's tears" instead of like... idk, "your mother was pregnant again and I used the life of that unborn child to save you" or something kind of "... oh. Okay, then."

To be fair, that might also be why they went so hard in the IMO inadvisable male-dominated writer room direction of "so I held her down and took what I wanted" to convey the requisite "he's doing A Bad," which is what all my side-eye is toward. But here's the thing:

On some level, dark magic is about violation—of nature, of others, and of the self. Even violation by Aaravos, ultimately.

But it's also not just that.

Dark magic also sits at the center of one of the primary themes of the whole story, which is the evil of denying others' personhood. We see it again and again from the angle of the heroic cast: "You keep calling it a monster," "You knew he was a person, just like you," "She's not 'the elf.' She's Rayla." The evil they do not allow to take root is seeing people as things, the place where all other evils begin. (GNU Terry Pratchett, IYKYK.)

So Viren's damning crime, the crime that is dark magic, is this:

In that moment, he looks at his wife, and sees only a source of what he needs. One that he can take from as he wills. That's why Lissa leaves—Viren has pulled the circle he draws around "people" versus "abstractions, things to be used" in so tightly that she has found herself suddenly on the outside of it. That's not something you come back from, in a relationship.

As for it all being over something as innocent as Lissa's tears, as opposed to something like her blood, her unborn child, her heart, her last breath—that's also, I think, part of the point. It's a renewable resource, harvested without doing permanent physical harm, but it's still a violation of her. This is the ultimate refutation of the "but what if ethically-sourced phoenix feathers" argument as being, for the final time, bullshit.

When Viren bursts in looking like he walked straight out of hell and demands use of her tears, could Lissa have given them freely? Sure... but she didn't. Could he have talked her around, if he invested the time and respect for her that would require? Probably, but again, he didn't! He took what he'd decided was necessary, did what he decided he had to do, because he could.

And like, he knew, even then. Because while dark magic twists your perceptions and reasoning, dragging you deeper each time—it can't twist you so much that you no longer have a choice. It will do everything it can to make you rationalize making that choice, over and over, but it can't erase that it is a choice.

Like, I'm honestly kind of emotional about it because while the surface level watching experience is kind of hmmmmm, it delivers so well on a thematic and meta level that I'm just like idk. Fuck. It's good.

[blakeblueboi]

Cat Animagi Au

Purely self-indulgent- I simply wanted to draw some kitties and honestly, I feel like this could be hilarious so here's some head canons I thought of while drawing this ---->

Harry

Harry was not at all expecting to be a cat Animagus. He fully expected to be a stag like his father or some sort of dog like Sirius was. The last thing he expected was to be a cat, and a very large one at that.

Harry became an animagus in eighth year.

Professor McGonagall was thrilled that she was no longer the only cat Animagus at Hogwarts. She personally saw to it that Harry was registered as an animagus at the Ministry.

Hermione often finds Harry curled up in the common room on the windowsill.

Ron is convinced that Harry is some sort of "titan" cat due to his humungous size but Hermione speculates that he's some sort of maine coon or Norwegian forest cat.

He is very much a void in the darkness and has scared the piss out of Ron, Seamus, and Dean many times.

However, his animagus status is kept quiet from anyone other than his housemates. The other houses now recognize his animagus form and give him weird or outlandish nicknames. They're mostly to do with either the faint glasses markings around his eyes or his larger than normal size.

Harry takes advantage of his smaller size to sneak around the castle during the night.

He has taken pleasure by nipping Draco's heels in the hallway between classes.

Draco

Draco, on the other hand, was hoping his animagus form was anything but a ferret. Every since that incident in the courtyard with Professor Moody he has loathed the creatures.

His mother predicted he could have been an exotic bird and for a while he was fond of the idea until he realized he would have to molt feathers every year.

The first time he transformed Pansy gushed over him and promised to purchase him one of those pretty necklaces that she's seen muggles give their cats. Draco had to explain to her how that was, infact, not a necklace, but a collar. Blaise would not shut up about giving Draco a collar for the next month.

Draco takes pride in his appearance and that does not stop when he's in his animagus form. He's always very sleek and shiny without a hair out of place. His tail is by far his favorite feature with how it looks like a fancy feather when he walks.

He's yet to register with the Ministry as an animagus.

He can often be found infront of the fire in the Slytherin Common room curled up on a silk pillow.

Draco hates the black smudge on his right foreleg that imitated the dark mark on his arm. Even as a simple cat he can't escape the choices he made in the past. He's tried ripping the fur out there but found that the skin underneath was also just as black. He had a mind to dye it but that idea quickly went out of the window for a multitude of reasons. One being he did not have opposable thumbs.

Draco and Harry

When Draco stumbled upon Harry in his animagus form it was completely by accident. At first Draco was afraid that the Chosen one would somehow recognize him but was surprised to find a gentle hand passing over his head and spine. It was the weirdest experience he has ever had.

Draco took to following Harry around the castle on weekends convinced that Harry was none the wiser about who he was. It was nice. Of course when Ron and Hermione weren't around. WHen they were Ron teased Harry about gaining a follower, as if he did have those already, and Hermione studied him as if he was one of the massive tomes she carried around. He was half convinced that she had figured him out long ago, but just hadn't said anything for some unknown reason.

Draco met Harry finally in the other's animagus form while stalking the halls late at night. A quick glance and Draco was petrified by two glowing green eyes in the darkness and it took everything in him not to flee down the hallway.

It took awhile for the two to get along in their animagus forms and on several occasions had to be broken up by Professor McGonagall who during several of those occasions was in her animagus form as well.

After a while, Harry and Draco slowly form a weird routine of walking the halls at night. They bond quite well during their time together.

Harry at some point joins the gag about getting Draco a fancy collar. Draco is surprised that it doesn't seem like that bad of an idea when coming from Harry.

Draco teases Harry about how even as a cat his furr is still just as messy as his hair is in human form.

[wingedjellyfishflight]

Emotional Support Animal Wife

When the PMC you worked for noticed that König was calmer around you and less likely to fly off the handle, they thought it was a fluke. Nonetheless, they asked you to attend several meetings as a guest and sat you near him to test out the theory. When he did not lash out for a single meeting over two months, no matter how inane, your job was officially restructured to spend nearly every hour of your working day next to him with overtime hazard pay for all after hours meetings and parties. Any time he was not down range, you were by his side, it seemed. It didn't take long for the enforced closeness to work its magic, leading to your eventual marriage.

König and several other select team members were contracted out to an international military task force for a minimum six month term. This wasn't the first time he was loaned out and you always tagged along, ensuring that he didn't attack an officer for being rude to his men or take up the challenge often offered by the enlisted who heard rumors of his work down range. This time, the hiring military tried to argue that you were not allowed due to the top secret clearance required as well as you being unnecessary to the mission. Your boss countered that the health and well-being of all employees was a top priority and reminded the opposing bureaucrat that your presence was listed as a non-negotiable aspect of not only König's contract, but the entire team's contracts as his presence was required in every other contract. After several rounds of back and forth, your boss prevailed.

When the C-140 landed, you waited for the men of the team to disembark before following König. He always waited until last to leave so you wouldn't be far away, especially in new areas with unknown threats. You patiently waited behind the wall of tall, broad, and muscular men who were your coworkers while introductions and welcomes were made. Same old same old at this point in your career. You preferred to hide and work in the shadows, so to speak. Calling attention to yourself was not ideal due to past experiences with idiots trying to interfere with your attendance.

Speaking of interfering idiots, the men have barely begun to stride away when a man approaches you, demanding to know who you are and how you got here. You smile kindly, "I'm with König and the others from KorTac. If you'll excuse-."

"No, ma'am. I need to verify your presence before I can release you." The man bars your way, grabbing his radio with urgency. You sigh and lean around him, not wanting to get separated from the group.

"König! I need assistance!" He doesn't pause to assess the situation. Simply turns on his heel and begins running straight at you. The rest of the team also about faces and stands waiting. The man skitters to the side slightly, scared to see such a giant man striding toward him. You simply hold up your arms, knowing his aim and allowing König to pick you up. The man quails under the glares he is receiving and silently vows to stay away from KorTac members at all times. König catches back up to the group easily and sets you down to walk next to him, holding his hand. You can hear him muttering in German and have to fight the grin trying to spread across your face.

Once in the meeting, König sits you next to him, in the seat with Horangi's name tag. Horangi stands behind your chair, ruffling your hair, drawing a huff from you. He enjoys acting the big brother to you whenever possible. Settling in, you put on your noise canceling headphones, and pull out a book to read. Hidden behind König's bulk, you blend in quickly, few noticing you other than the men of KorTac. Their favorite way to pass the time is to try to distract you from your book.

After a few moments, Horangi sits in a newly appeared chair next to you, nearly squashing you between him and König before you put a hand on his chest, shoving him back playfully. He smirks and lets you return to your book to wait out the meeting, one hand resting on König's back gently to ground him. Near the end, there is a tap on your shoulder as König and the others stand, you following suite soon after. It's meet and greet time, which is typically a lot of posturing and crushing of hands. You carefully greet several men, most of whom catch the name tag on your vest and eye König before greeting you from a few feet away. Glancing around, you spot a familiar face that has you tucking yourself behind König. Your hand clenching his waist has him freezing in place, body tensing and readying to face the threat. You slip your hand into his pocket, fishing out a spare mask and slipping it on. His tenseness relaxes slightly as your hand releases his shirt, and you stand near his side again, pressing a hand to his back for comfort.

The team is alarmed by your use of the mask. You've always playfully protested König masking you, preferring to be recognized on your own rather than a smaller carbon copy of him. The atmosphere in the room becomes much more tense as they slowly close ranks, Horangi stepping a bit closer to your other side. When the familiar face, a cousin, greets König, your hand flinches slightly, despite your struggle not to react. His gaze hardens as he evaluates the threat in front of him, hand tightening unconsciously. When your cousin winces, he catches himself, letting go and turning away in clear dismissal. Before he can greet you, holding out his hand, Horangi leans forward, shaking his hand instead. The interaction doesn't go unnoticed, but König makes an effort to greet every other person amicably, and Horangi's smile sets most at ease, even as they eye your red fabric masked face with suspicion.

Finally, the meeting officially ends, and the team is led to their quarters. The sounds of outrage at being placed in bunk beds together in one room are broken up by your giggles. They turn to look and see König laying in the bed, scrunched up into a ball to fit on the mattress and still hanging off. Once the laughter dies down and enough pictures are taken, König stands up. "We will see about proper accommodations. This is unacceptable, clearly." You take his hand quietly, and he pauses. "Schatz, would you prefer to stay behind? I know you are... nervous."

"He is my family, König. I didn't want a fight to break out at the first meeting." He sighs, frustrated. Hearing that your childhood had mirrored much of his had been rage inducing, and it still simmers in the back of his mind. Luckily, he hadn't met any of them before today as you had cut contact when you took your first job as a contractor due to their vehement disapproval and insults. "I would prefer to stay anonymous here as much as possible rather than confront him." König nods, fighting back his protective instincts.

"I will follow your lead. If a fight is needed, then a fight we shall have."

You shake your head, saying, "Don't sound so excited for it, big guy."

König leads you out, nearly running into a soldier posted outside the door. "Colonel, you are to remain in your quarters until your allotted lunch at 1100 hours," the soldier's voice wavers only slightly despite the fear you feel rolling off of him. You rub your thumb on the back of König's glove, gently keeping him grounded.

"I wish to speak to someone about the quarters we have been provided. Please bring me to the person in charge of accommodations." The soldier looks stunned, rocking back on his heels.

"I-I will contact someone, but I must insist that you wait here. My orders were to ensure you did not leave." König nods agreeably.

"Understood. We will wait for this person." The soldier returns the nod before retreating up the hall several paces and calling over the radio. König merely leans back against the wall, crossing his arms over his broad chest. You mimic his posture, quietly waiting. It is only a few minutes later when the soldier approaches with another person in tow.

"Colonel, you wish to discuss your quarters? They are the standard quarters we provide to all visiting contractors." You honestly don't understand how they could continue to be confused, having to crane their neck back to meet his gaze.

"I am very tall, as are several of my men. The bunks are too short to sleep on. As well, there are not enough beds unless you expect my wife," he casually gestures at you, "to sleep on the floor."

The man stares at him, seemingly noticing his height for the first time, then his eyes flick to you. "Well, it was assumed that your... wife," your eyes narrow at the doubt lacing his tone, "would sleep with you, of course."

Before König can say a word, you snap at him. "He doesn't fit in the bunk, and you expect me to sleep there, too? Am I supposed to slice his belly open and crawl inside like this is a Star Wars movie?" The posted soldier snorts, unable to completely hide his laughter and the man opposite you smothers a grin, not expecting the reference, nor your unaccented, American voice.

"Uhh, no. We don't expect personnel to make such drastic choices. I will arrange for more appropriate beds. They will be exchanged before nightfall."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate being spared as a sacrifice." With that, König turns and guides you back into the quarters. You smile, seeing the team already at work rearranging the room.

With the door shut and locked, you pull off your mask, a small sigh of relief slipping out. Horangi shoots a questioning look at König, to no avail. You stiffen your back and meet his questioning gaze. "One of the men is estranged family. Recognizing me could easily lead to an all out brawl," your eyes flick to König. "Or worse." Horangi nods.

"Then we will maintain your anonymity outside these doors." There are nods of agreement all around. "Though, I wouldn't mind a piece of him myself if he is as bad as the rest of your family." Horangi's eyes shine with a predatory gleam. His name is well-earned after all.

"It's been years. Maybe he is better, maybe not."

When lunch rolls around, you don your mask again, now adjusted for your face so it does not cover your uniform and drapes nicely. König is great with a needle and thread, able to make, repair or adjust masks on the fly with ease. You walk single file, sandwiched between König and Oni who keeps poking you and dodging your jabbing elbow. You swear at him in Japanese, having picked up several languages in your time working with the team. Unfortunately or maybe not, almost all of it is exclusively the slang, curses and crude language they use as emphasis for their English. He laughs loud and long at your inventive cursing in his mother language, but stops antagonizing you just in time to walk into the mess hall full of soldiers.

You can feel the tension radiating off König and step to his side, a hand on his forearm. He glances down at you briefly. "Herz, you will go in front of me. I want both eyes on you in here." You pat his arm in agreement and pick up a tray, quickly moving through the line.

"Man, I thought that Koe-nig was supposed to be some badass. But look at this, he got tits!" You openly laugh at the cook's loud exclamation to his surprise and watch his face turn to shock and horror as König steps forward behind you.

"Herz, did you know that I have grown tits? Why did you not tell me?!" You shrug.

"I felt like that should be a discussion between you and your doctor, König. Or maybe between you and your workout routine." Your flat delivery has hysterical giggles bursting out among the cooks as they realize neither of you are going to kill them for their words.

Lunch is quick. Not as tasty as you usually manage to get, but edible enough. When a soldier appears to herd all of you back to your quarters, König is instantly annoyed. You silently cajole him into cooperating for now. It is only the first day, after all.

The promised beds are delivered to you before dark, though they aren't much bigger. Fortunately, your team has dealt with this issue before and they simply push the metal frames out into the hall to the surprise of the posted guard. He doesn't protest at all, understanding the frustration.

Snuggling that night is mandatory rather than optional. Your front is pressed against König with Horangi's back to yours. Between the two heaters, you don't need a blanket despite the cool Fall temps and the windows wide open to let in the breeze.

[squarratorsideblog]

I realized i would actually die if i attempted to color all this but as promised...

here's the Narratorverse baseball team!

composed entirely of british voice actors that do not even know the rules of the game. And spend the entirety of it ogling the opposing team.

tags (from left to right, plus my innecessary commentary) @semisocialporcupine's snaked his way in?

@jsabecomic's has all the balls (literally)

@galacticatzzart's is staring in horror

@miezmiau-animations's is the only one without eyesight problems

@bugenthusiast0 we need more bug narrators (thats all)

@test-url-please-ignore's gets the 'shortest one' award

@lexumpysfunland's is spreading chaos in the field like he should

@tspstuff's is cheering them on (I LOVE THE SCORPION THING AUGH)

@thestanleyparablenctks's hopes his face is okay

@sketchygoober's disapproves of this

@bucketfullofstrawberries's fearing his life

@4thwallbreakerdraws's the menace in question

Virus narrator and Square narrator (@squarratorsideblog) they're both somewhat into the action. Virus more.

@limelemonleaf's simply does not care at all

@dirtylittlemuffin's also disapproves

@peripalz's does NOT disapprove

@rick-ety's does not care either

@cosmokrill's is concerningly into it

@bookshopsandtea's ALSO dissaproves (3 combo)

@vellichorom's is silently wishing he could beat everyone up himself

@employee052's is disapproving so hard the fabric of reality could be torn (4 combo)

@mariade11art's doesn't disapprove, he's just slightly annoyed

@queenburd's is very upset he couldnt convince everyone to do cricket instead.

@catsupport What's this? Another one disapproving (5 combo)

and lastly @shy-blue-waters's is pretty damn confused about this whole situation!

and like every good team we need extra players, so we have @visillantopng and @purpleskelet0n's narrators. Who do not know the rules of the game either, yet somehow managed to not know them even less than everyone else

Now, on an author's note, thank you all for all the narrators! they were a joy to draw and this is the biggest drawing i've ever done, i owe it all to you guys. This was very fun to do!