#at least big project-wise

[keymintt]

CONGRATULATIONS!!!! You got the mural job, that's amazing news =D

THANK YOU!!! i've haven't quite done anythin like this before BUT i have enough experience from other projects to where it's not a super super daunting thing. like yeah it's Big and that'll have it's challenges but i'm excited !! :>

i don't know if i can show my proposal sketch off else i'd put it here but i will certainly show the finished mural off here once it's done >:3

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Me, yesterday: I always wildly overestimate my artistic skill/energy levels and wind up getting excited about ideas that are drastically outside my wheelhouse, so from this point on, I’m going to really rein in my ideas to keep from burnout

My brain today, all day, relentlessly: dead boy detectives prequel case fic comic.

Me, softly, pained: …no…

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[automatonknight]

art posted whatever. time to fucking. sew!!!!!!!!!!!

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 16: Big Brown Eyes

Summary: Things have returned to normal, or at least they seem to have. Nothing can ever go your way, though, can it?

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7925 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, unprotected sex, p in v sex, oral sex, face sitting, grinding, spanking (it's like once and not even on the ass), Kyle is definitely a munch, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, reader is a little shit, angst, PTSD, nightmares, trauma, mommy issues, family issues, language, the author's bias showing just a tad.

A/N: Have you ever cried while writing smut? I have. Had two mental breakdowns during the course of this chapter, the worst of the two during the smut scene. Sobbing while writing the reader getting her back blown out? That's a new one for me. But, I did it. I finished Chapter 16 this week. I'm feeling significantly better than I was, at least physically. Giving it to you a day early because I feel bad about not posting last week. The events of this chapter pick up pretty much where the previous one left off. Timeline wise, this chapter is spread over roughly a week-ish. And special thanks to the battle rattle anon for inspiring part of this chapter 🫶

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(This is my all time favorite gif of him I swear I stare at it way too much)

You’re clawing at the door frame, desperately clinging to the last thing you can hold on to, the last shred of your life as you know it. You fight the hands pulling at your arms, threatening to pull you away from the comfort, the warmth, the safety of your home, of your pack. 

Your mothers grief-stricken sobs reach your ears, her cries of desperation as they rip you from her, your father’s hate filled gaze directed at you over her shoulder as he holds her back. She loves all her children, but you were always her favorite. The bond between you two was always the strongest. 

Now you know why. 

The arms rip you from the doorframe seconds before the door slams closed. It’s like a gavel strike declaring your fate, cutting you off from everything you knew. You’re pulled back from the door, from the house that had become your safe space, from the pack inside. 

They’re not your pack anymore. The thought is like a sharp knife, severing the lifelong bond in your mind. You’re not a part of them anymore. You’re alone in this world, cut off from what you knew, and it’s all your fault. 

If only you could have presented as an alpha, like you were supposed to. 

You’re sobbing, breaths coming in choking gasps. Your chest feels tight, your body tense and aching as you fight against the constricting hold around you. 

“Easy, easy.” A deep voice murmurs in your ear, your senses beginning to return. “Yer alright, kitten.” 

Your breaths continue to come in shaky gasps as you start to recognize your surroundings. You’re in Johnny’s room still. His arms are wrapped tight around you, your own pinned against your chest. You had fallen asleep before you even realized it, exhausted after your night with Johnny. 

“Ye were havin’ a nightmare.” He says, projecting his natural beta scent in an attempt to get you to relax. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, letting the scent start to numb your brain. The tears continue to slide down your cheeks, but slowly your breathing begins to normalize. Johnny begins to loosen his hold around you, not letting you go, but enough that you don’t feel like you’re being constricted anymore. 

“Si gets them too.” Johnny continues, speaking quietly. His breath is warm as it fans your ear, reminding you that you’re awake now, and your nightmare is behind you. “Woken up tae elbows and fists in my face many times.” 

You keep your eyes closed, taking in deep breaths as Johnny lays with you in silence, his fingers gently stroking your arms. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep. You hadn’t meant to have a nightmare. Not in front of them. You knew it would happen eventually, but you had hoped you could avoid it as long as possible. 

You don’t want to reveal your weakness, your pain, your inner struggle to them. They have enough of their own, they don’t need to know how broken you are too. 

You lay there, slowly calming your breaths and the slight tremble in your limbs as you wait for Johnny to begin questioning you. He’ll want to know, he’ll want to hear what it is that’s plaguing your mind. You’ll have to tell him, you’ll have to explain everything and then he’ll want to know more. He’ll want to unearth the brokenness and the pain that you’ve buried so deeply like an archaeologist looking for the secrets of an ancient civilization. 

You don’t want to reveal it, you want to bury it again, lock it back in the recesses of your mind where it can’t hurt you. You want to compress it back down until you feel safe again without the threat of the past hanging over your head. 

Johnny continues to relax his hold around you as you begin to calm down again, the tears finally slowing to a stop. You take deep breaths, trying to match Johnny’s even breathing behind you. You wait for it, the inevitable question, the prodding, the digging. He’ll want answers, he’ll want to know what plagues your mind, how much it’s been happening, why you haven’t said anything. 

You’re not sure how much time passes as you lay there, counting breaths. It’s silent in the room, in the barracks. Even outside it’s quiet, as if the world is holding its breath, waiting patiently for the shoe to drop, for the truth to get revealed. 

You can't wait any longer. The tension is too thick, the thought of waiting for the question to break the silence is too much. You'll rip the bandaid before he can try and force it from you. “I don't-”

“Ye don't have tae tell me.” He cuts you off before you can even start, the words slicing through yours, stopping you from spilling your darkest, innermost thoughts. “We all have them sometimes. No shame in that.” He tightens his grip on you for a moment, pulling you closer against his chest. “Simon doesn't even tell me all of his. Thinks he might scare me off, or somethin'. I'm no’ gonnae force ye to tell me anythin’ if ye don’ want to.” 

You're taken aback by his words. You suppose they all have to be plagued by nightmares of their own, with the kinds of things they have to see when they're in the field. Ghost had told you a bit about the nightmares that haunt him, and that had only been one tragedy, one mission. You suddenly feel silly. The kinds of things you’re afraid of, the nightmares that terrify your mind suddenly seem inconsequential to the things they must dream about at night. 

You wiggle in Johnny’s arms until you’re facing him, his eyes half closed as he stares down at you. You shift forward, pressing your face against his bare chest. His head tucks so his chin rests against the top of your head as he holds you, his breathing slowing just slightly as he drifts back to sleep. You don’t sleep, laying there awake as you listen to the slow, rhythmic beating of Johnny’s heart. 

He’s snoring quietly, breath fanning across your hair as he sleeps peacefully. You let your fingers trail over his skin as you wait for his early alarm that will signal the end of your quiet moments of bliss, snapping you both back into your realities. You trace the scars lining his skin, all of them with their own stories, just like John’s. 

He makes a garbled, snorting noise as your fingers brush over his ribs, his entire body twitching. His hand moves, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. “Tickles.” He murmurs, lifting your arm so it’s draped around his neck. He's asleep almost immediately, as if he hadn't woken at all from your tickling. 

You continue to lay there as he sleeps, your mind drifting between sleep and your racing thoughts until Johnny’s alarm goes off. He groans, reaching across you to turn it off. He lays still, breath still fanning over the top of your head. For a moment you’re worried he’s fallen asleep again, but eventually he moves, rolling on top of you. 

He presses his face against your neck, letting out a quiet groan. He’s heavy, but a solid weight above you. It’s comforting, the weight of him like a blanket keeping you safe. He presses gentle kisses against your neck, his fingers trailing across your shoulder before brushing over your mark. You let out a whine, arching against him. 

“Screamin’ Jesus.” He curses, getting hard against your thigh. 

“Don’t you have to go work out?” You ask as he begins to grind against you. 

“Would rather stay here with you.” He growls against your throat. 

“Won’t you get in trouble?” You gasp, bucking up against him. 

“Worth it.” He grunts, kicking the sheets off the end of the bed. 

“Someone missed the morning workout.” Kyle says as you and Johnny sit down at the table for breakfast. You’re the last ones there, despite Johnny skipping his early morning workout. 

You take your normal spot between Kyle and John, sitting gingerly on the hard bench. There’s still a distinct ache between your thighs from Johnny’s enthusiasm and intense stamina last night and this morning.  

“Aye, don’t worry. I still got a good workout in.” Johnny says cheekily, winking across the table at you. 

You’re afraid you may combust as the other three pairs of eyes at the table look at you. It’s no secret what you were doing last night, or this morning. Johnny, as in most aspects of his life, is loud in bed. Kyle had known you were going to, and so had Simon, but you find your gaze turning to John as your face warms. 

You’re not quite sure what you’re expecting as you look at him. It’s not like he had forbidden you from pursuing relationships with the others, or even shown any distaste at the idea. You were open to love the other members of the pack, just as they did one another, just as he did. 

His face is stoic as he stares at you, before it begins to lighten, a gleam shining in his eyes. “Did he take good care of you?” He asks, the corner of his lips twitching. 

You swallow thickly, your face getting warmer as you nod. “Yeah.” 

“Good.” John grins. “ Then I suppose I can forgive him for sleeping in this morning, so long as it doesn’t become a habit.” He casts his glance across the table. 

“I’m a bad influence.” You say, spooning porridge into your mouth. 

“Certainly worth the trouble, though.” Johnny says, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “Especially when you do that thing with your tongue-”

Johnny’s words are cut off with a pained yelp as Ghost kicks him under the table. “Don’t go spilling all her tricks.” He grumbles, eyeing the tables around you. 

You think your face might be permanently warm at the thought of anyone nearby hearing the topic of your conversation. Of course they know, but hearing about it was something entirely different. 

Kyle walks you back to the barracks after breakfast, your hand in his, fingers laced together. His thumb rubs the back of your hand absentmindedly, shoulders brushing as you walk. Neither of you say anything, but you don’t have to. Unlike Johnny, Kyle is happy to exist in silence. They’re so very different, despite both being betas. 

Your brothers had often joked about betas being boring, and how glad they were that neither of your parents were betas. You’d disagree now, after spending some time around betas. They’re just as complex as alphas and omegas, in their own ways. 

Boring was the last thing you’d describe Johnny as last night. 

Kyle holds the door for you as you enter the barracks, following you down the hall. You stop in front of your door, your hand pausing on the knob as Kyle leans in close to you. 

His chest presses against your back, breath fanning your ear as he speaks. “Can’t wait to find out about this trick you do with your tongue.” 

Your face warms again, your heart thudding in your chest as you turn to look up at him, tongue darting out to wet your lips. “You could find out right now.” 

Kyle’s lips lift in a smirk as he leans in closer, trapping you against the door. “I’d love to, but I don’t think the Captain would be quite so forgiving if I skipped out on this training.” 

You stare up at him, lost in his big brown eyes. “Soon?” 

He smirks, leaning down to kiss you. “Of course. Just say the word.” 

He leaves you there with your heart thudding in your chest, your stomach churning in excitement. You’d be more than willing to go that extra step with Kyle right at this very moment, but the subtle ache between your thighs thanks to Johnny is a good reminder why you should wait. You want to enjoy your time with Kyle.

You know it will be worth the wait. 

“How have you been?” 

You shrug, sinking back into the plush chair. It’s warm in the office, a stark contrast to the cold downpour outside. “Fine.” You answer, running your hands over your jeans. “Tired.” 

“Oh?” Dr. Keller raises an eyebrow at you. “Have you not been sleeping well?” 

“I’m...having a hard time falling asleep.” You say. It’s not entirely a lie, but it’s not the whole truth. 

“Why do you think that is?” She asks, writing something down. 

Your palms begin to sweat. You hadn’t planned on going into too much detail about this with her, but you knew she’d likely notice and remark on your tired appearance. “Been thinking too much.” 

“About what?” She probes, staring at you. 

You know you don’t have to tell her anything. What you share is up to you. Yet, you can feel the words bubbling up, threatening to spill over before you can stop them. “My family.” You say, releasing some steam from the boiling pot inside you. Tears burn your eyes, threatening to fall as you continue. “Especially my mom. I miss her a lot sometimes.” 

“You had a close bond with her.” Dr. Keller says. It’s not a question. 

You nod. “The closest out of all of my siblings.” You snuffle, wiping the tear trailing down your cheek. “Makes sense why.” 

“Sometimes we have traits or behaviors that show before we present that hint at our possible status. Having a stronger bond with one parent over another, especially in mixed status packs, can signal what one might present as.” Dr. Keller says. “Were you the first omega to present in your pack?” 

You nod. “Yeah. My older brothers were alphas, and I don’t know about my younger siblings.” 

“That could all contribute to a strong bond with your mother.” Dr. Keller leans back in her seat. “I’m assuming you haven’t had any contact with them since the institute.” 

“Not since I was taken from home. The institute didn’t support keeping those connections with previous packs and...I don’t think they would have reached out anyway.” You say, picking at the fabric of your pants. 

“What makes you say that?” Dr. Keller asks. 

You pause, not sure you want to open that bag of worms. If anyone is safe enough to do it with, you know it’s going to be Dr. Keller. She won’t judge you, she won’t think you weak or silly for having such thoughts, such fears. She doesn’t care how broken you are. You’re not part of her pack. She’s an outsider, a doctor above all. 

“Well, they did send me to the institute, didn’t they?” You finally say. 

Dr. Keller hums, staring at you for a moment before she drops her gaze to her notebook, writing something down. “I suppose you have a point there. Hypothetically, if you were given the chance to, would you want to talk to them again? It’s not uncommon for omegas to seek out their previous packs and families after they leave the institute.” 

Your stomach twists at her question. Even if it is only hypothetical, you had existed for years in the institute thinking you’d never get to see or hear from your family again. They were behind you, lost to you. They wouldn’t accept your attempts to reach out to them, even if you knew where they were. Even after leaving the institute, you knew the chances of seeing them again or even just hearing from them was almost none. You have a new pack now, your old one doesn’t matter. 

That’s just the life of an omega. 

Would you want to? In this hypothetical world where this question exists as a potential option, would they even answer if you called? Would they accept an invitation to see you again, if they were given the chance? Could your father feel regret after all of these years for what he did to you? 

“I...” You frown, tears pricking your eyes again. “I don’t know.” 

“That’s okay.” Dr. Keller says. “It’s a complex situation. If you ever wanted to, though, I’m sure they could make it happen.” 

Your gaze snaps to hers, the shock at her words clearly written on your face. Of course they probably could. It was their job to hunt down hard to find people, and with the CIA at their backs, you’re certain they could track down your family easily. Would they do it for you, if you asked? Would they allow you to have that connection with your old pack while still being part of theirs? 

“Most people keep some form of contact with their family, even after they move on to their own pack.” Dr. Keller says. “It’s not unusual, even among omegas. Just something to think about.” 

“Do you still talk to your family?” You ask her, partly out of curiosity. 

“I do.” She smiles. “I talk to my parents pretty regularly, and my older brother occasionally. He’s involved in this world too. He was in the Army originally, but now he does whatever it is he does.” 

You’re surprised by her answer. Not so much that she still talks to her family, but that she’s familiar with this world. It makes sense, how easily she existed in it, beyond just being a professional. “Do you think it had something to do with you being chosen for this position?” You ask. 

“Most likely.” She grins. “Laswell probably wanted someone who is at least a little familiar with this world, but also someone she knew would work well with you.” 

“I think she made the right choice.” You say. It’s the truth. You like Dr. Keller. You trust her. You’ve grown comfortable in her presence and you look forward to your appointments with her. It almost makes you feel bad for withholding the truth from her. 

“Good. I think so too.” She says. “So, did anything exciting happen this week?” 

You chew on your lip nervously, your hands disappearing into your sleeves as your face warms a bit. “Johnny and I...had our first time together.” 

“Oh?” Her eyebrows raise. “And that’s something you wanted?” 

You nod. “Yeah. I’d like to get close to all of them, well, as close as Ghost will let me get.” You bite your lip again. “Ghost...gave me some pointers on how to handle Johnny. It worked. He...let me take control. I liked it.” 

“Nothing wrong with that.” Dr. Keller says. “I think it’s great that you’ve discovered this about yourself. I know omegas are so used to being controlled in society. I think it’s great that you’ve found a place where perhaps you can take a little control back.” 

She’s not wrong. Your entire life has been dictated for you, controlled by someone else. The baton of control was just continually passed from your father, to the institute, to the CIA, and now to John. Though John has granted you the most freedom of everyone that’s held control over you, there’s still requirements for obedience and submission to him. You’ll never be your own person. That’s just the way society works, and you’ve come to accept that. 

Yet, you’ve never felt quite so powerful as you did in bed with Johnny, when you’d gripped him by the mohawk like Ghost had instructed you to. When you saw the change in his eyes as you took over, controlling him, telling him what to do. You liked it, exerting control over someone else for a change. He just let you do it. It still sends a thrill down your spine at the thought of the possibilities, the things you can do now that you’ve discovered this part of yourself. You’d never show it in public, but behind closed doors...

The book was right. Perhaps omegas can be powerful. 

“What are we doing?” You ask, staring up at John as he straps a tactical vest onto your body. 

“We’re doing an exercise, and you’re going to help us.” He answers, double checking the vest before putting a helmet on your head. “Think of it as hide and seek mixed with tag.” He finishes strapping the helmet to your head, taking a step back. “How does it feel?” 

“Heavy.” You feel weighed down with the vest and the helmet.

“You’ll get used to it.” He says with a smile, guiding you towards the door of the warehouse. 

It’s dark inside, nearly pitch black except for the light coming in from the open door. There’s fake walls set up in front of you, with space just in the middle like a sort of hallway that disappears into the darkness. 

“Your job is to get from this side of the warehouse, to the other without getting caught.” John says. “No weapons, just you trying to evade us and get to the other side while we try and catch you,” John lowers the goggles on the top of the helmet, the world coming alive in shades of green around you. “And night vision goggles. Be smart about it. Understood?” 

You nod, looking around with the goggles, trying to adapt to using them. “Yes, sir.” 

“Good. You have a thirty second head start. Use it wisely.” 

He leaves the warehouse, closing the door behind him. You’re left in complete darkness, with no sound but a fan running somewhere, probably to dampen any sounds that might echo. You stand there for a moment, trying not to breathe too heavily, as it might echo in the warehouse. You stare at the door behind you for a second before you begin to move forward, the adrenaline starting to pump. You have to get to the other side of the warehouse before they catch you. Are they working together or individually? What kind of strategy will they use? What strategy will you use? 

You begin to pick up speed, running until you reach the end of the first hallway. It splits off in both directions, and you hesitate for a moment. Be smart about it. You don’t have many advantages in this situation. They’ve done this before, both in training and probably in the field as well. They’re highly skilled soldiers, trained to hunt down people in all sorts of environments, sometimes with nothing more than their scent. 

Scent. 

Of course. 

You take off down the right hallway, following it as it twists and turns like a maze. A giant maze. There’s so many hallways, so many places to run, but not many to hide. That’s not the point, though. You have to get to the other side of the warehouse before they do. You have to track your way through this maze without getting caught by four special operations soldiers. 

Simple enough. 

You pause at a corner, undoing your vest so you can slip your sweatshirt off. You’re just putting your vest back on when the door opens, bathing the ceiling with light for a moment. It’s started. They’re inside. You can’t hear anything over the hum of the fan, and that’s almost more terrifying to you than if you had been able to hear them. The adrenaline is pumping now as you toss your sweatshirt in the corner before quickly backtracking and heading a different direction.

You try to keep your breathing quiet as you weave through the maze, doubling back and touching the walls every so often to try and leave your scent behind and confuse them. You take deep breaths through your nose as you go, trying to catch any whiff of them, any sign that you might have crossed their path or be getting close to them. They’ll reach the same area of the maze as you’re in eventually, sooner rather than later. You need to start pressing forward. You’re not just evading them, you have to reach the other side before they catch you. 

You slip around a corner, pressing up against the wall as something moves behind you. You hold your breath, quiet footsteps passing by your position. Your hands are shaking from the adrenaline, the instinctual fear of being hunted rising in you. You take a couple of quiet deep breaths, slipping your shoes off to grab your socks before slipping them back on. You peek around the corner, finding nothing. 

You toss one of your socks in the corner before doubling back, pausing as you cross one of their scents. Johnny. You recognize the citrusy tang in the air. Christ, you’ve never heard him be that quiet before. You continue on, your heart racing in your chest as you carefully weave around corners, slipping through hallways. They’re close to you now. They could be around any corner. 

You pause as you cross the scent of leather and musk, something prickling in the back of your mind. It’s a fresh scent. You pause for a moment, looking in the direction he went before slipping around the corner. You still have your other sock clutched in your hand, knuckles white as you grip it tightly. 

You should be nearing the end. The warehouse isn’t that big, even with all the doubling back and dodging you’ve been doing. You toss your other sock in a corner haphazardly as you decide to stop doubling back and go for the exit. You have to try and get ahead of them, as well as find your way through the maze to the exit door. 

Simple enough. 

Except, you have no idea which direction the exit is, or which direction you’re heading. You could be going backwards for all you know. You weave through the halls, around the corners, focusing on finding the end of the maze. 

In your concentration you fail to notice the scent, weaving through the halls mindlessly as you attempt to reach the end of the maze. You pay for it as the sound of boots on the concrete floor rushes up behind you. You let out a startled shriek of surprise as your feet leave the floor, your body ragdolling over someone’s shoulder. 

“Got her!” He yells out, weaving around a couple corners before light floods the warehouse, making you wince. 

Your squint as your feet hit the ground again, the night vision goggles lifted from your face. Your nose crinkles as you stare up at Kyle’s smug face, his lips pulled up in a smirk. 

“No fair.” You pout. “I was so close!” 

“You were, but you got sloppy at the end there.” He says, undoing the strap of your helmet to help you take it off. You’re sweaty underneath it, hair sticking to your forehead. You’re glad you ditched your sweatshirt now. 

“Not bad.” John says, exiting the warehouse, Ghost and Johnny following. “Nice strategy.” He says, tossing your sweatshirt to you. 

You shrug, hugging it to your chest. “Had to think fast with what I had on hand.” 

“Running around with no socks on too.” Ghost says, holding up your socks. 

“Left you a little present. You can keep them if you want.” You smirk. 

“Don’t want your nasty socks.” He grumbles, tossing them to you. 

“That was fun.” You say, grinning up at them. “Like being hunted.” You don’t miss the quiet rumble in John’s chest at your words, his eyes darkening just a bit. “Can someone help me out of this now though,” You say, reaching for the velcro straps on the vest. “It’s squishing my boobs.” 

The TV is playing some show, but you're not really paying attention. You haven't been, not for a while now. Your adrenaline had still been pumping a bit after your participation in the exercise earlier, putting you on edge the rest of the day. It had been a bit thrilling, the idea of being hunted like that. You can understand now how omegas enjoy being hunted, beyond just the inevitable end. 

The thought of that being how the exercise ended, all four of them at once, out where anyone could see you...your skin begins to prickle as heat blossoms in your veins. Kyle would get to take you first because he won, he caught you so easily. Would John go second, or would he allow the other members of his pack to go first? Ghost would be rough, taking you from behind, hands bruising on your hips. Your teeth sink into your lip as you imagine him over you, a position you often found yourself in during your training with him. He's just so big, so strong. They all are. 

You won't be able to control yourself during training if you keep going down that thought path. 

John would be gentle, piecing you back together after the others have had their way with you. He'd take care of you, like a good alpha, dragging one more orgasm out of you after you think you can't anymore. 

You let out a shaky breath, trying to calm your scent. You're stinking up the rec room with your fantasies. You turn your head to look at the TV, trying to focus on what's happening on the screen in an effort to distract yourself. 

It doesn't work, the subtle dampness between your thighs ever present on your mind. You have half a mind to get up and seek out Kyle, but like a miracle he appears in the doorway of the rec room. You see his nostrils flare, the lift of his shoulders as he inhales. He can smell your arousal, the spike in the sweetness of your scent. You have no doubt about that. He doesn't say anything, though, instead he approaches the couch silently, kneeling at the end. 

He settles himself on top of you, resting his head on your chest. He lets out a breath as he settles, keeping some of his weight off of you, but he's still pressed against you like a weighted blanket. You fight the urge to shift beneath him, to press your hips up against him, to seek any ounce of relief for the warmth between your thighs. 

You're not sure he's watching the TV either as he lays there, relaxed over you. Your fingers trail patterns across his back, gliding over his soft shirt. He's in blue today, one of your favorite colors on him. He looks good in anything, the perks of being pretty, but blue is one of your favorite colors on him. 

It's silent between you for a while, Kyle relaxed above you while you fight to relax beneath him. If he’s affected at all by your scent, he hides it well. You have half a mind to ask him to take pity on you, to slip his hand beneath your sweatpants and ease the ache between your thighs. He had said whenever you wanted it. All you have to do is ask. 

You shift slightly beneath him, lifting your hand to his head. “Kyle?” You ask, gently trailing your fingers over his scalp. He'd gotten his hair buzzed recently, the curly strands shorter than normal. 

He hums in response, the sound rumbling through your body from where his head rests on your chest. When you don't reply right away he lifts his head, blinking up at you with those big brown eyes. 

“Kiss me?” You ask. 

Your heart starts to race as he pulls himself closer to you, his body dragging against yours. His eyes dart to your lips before they look back into yours for a moment. He leans down, slipping his arms underneath your back as he closes the gap between you. His lips are soft against yours, his kisses gentle and controlled as he holds you like you might break in his grasp. 

“Kyle?” You murmur against his lips, your arms wrapping around his neck. 

He hums again in response, pulling away just slightly to stare down at you. 

“‘M not gonna break.” You say, dragging your nails over his scalp again. “Kiss me like you mean it.” 

His lips twitch in a smirk before he leans down, pressing his lips hard against yours. It’s a searing kiss that nearly steals your breath away. His tongue prods at your lips, and you part them to allow him in. He tastes like the tea he had been drinking after dinner, rich and earthy with a hint of sweetness from the sugar he added. You moan softly into his mouth as his tongue flicks against your own, your thighs squeezing around his waist at the thought of that tongue between your legs. 

He smirks against your lips as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking, his body shifting over yours so he can press one of his thighs between your legs. You move instinctively, your hips grinding against his thigh. Finally you're getting some friction, some relief from the ache. 

“Fuck.” He breathes, pulling you tighter against his chest. “That’s it.” He groans, pressing his thigh harder against your grinding hips. “Gonna cum on my thigh, just like that?” He nips at your jaw, trailing kisses down the line towards your neck. “Haven’t even touched you yet.” 

You try to muffle your moans as you continue to grind against his thigh, the friction on your clit pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “Kyle?” You gasp out, gripping the back of his shirt. “Gonna fuck me on the rec room couch?” 

He lifts his head from your neck, staring down at you for a moment. “Fuck, you’re right. Your room or mine?” 

“Yours.” You say, hanging on for dear life as he scoops you up off the couch, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

He walks you to his room, carrying you the entire way. He kicks the door shut, beelining for his bed. He drops you down on the mattress, your body bouncing as he hastily peels his shirt off, revealing an expanse of smooth skin marked here and there by scars. You immediately reach out, trailing your fingers over his skin. It’s just as soft as it looks, your fingers trailing the lines of his muscles. 

His hand flattens over yours as it reaches his chest, pressing it into his warm skin as he leans down, kissing you again. His hands slip under your thighs, lifting you and switching your positions so he’s seated on the bed, and you’re in his lap. 

“Anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?” He says, looking up at you. 

“I think it’s been mentioned before.” You say with a shrug, smiling down at him. 

“It’s the truth.” He says, slipping his hands under your shirt. “Deserve to hear it all the time.” 

“Bunch of handsome men complimenting me constantly?” You say, lifting your arms over your head so he can remove your shirt. “Can’t complain about that.” 

“Luckiest men in the world.” He says, smoothing his hands across your back as he presses his face into your throat. “Pretty little omega.” 

You shiver as his teeth nip at your skin, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. You arch against his chest, pressing yourself closer. There’s a bulge in his pants, a shiver of pride running through you at the thought that you did that to him. You elicited such a reaction from him. 

“I never properly thanked you.” You say, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“For what?” He asks, staring up at you curiously. 

“For taking such good care of me during my heat. Couldn’t have been easy, seeing me like that, knowing you couldn’t even touch me.” You grind your hips against his, his teeth sinking into his lip as you grind against his bulge. “Tell me, how many times did you touch yourself while thinking about me?” 

“Too many to count, love.” He groans, leaning his forehead against yours. “Sounded so sweet, getting ruined by our alpha.” 

“Been so patient, waiting for this.” You gasp, still rocking in his lap, the wetness between your thighs intensifying from the friction. “Tell me how you want me.” 

“Sit on my face.” He growls, pushing you off his lap so he can lay down on the bed. 

You shove your pants and underwear down your legs, fighting the urge to be bashful. Kyle has already seen you at your most vulnerable, been up close and personal with your most private parts. Yet, it feels different like this. More intimate, and less of a necessity. 

You take his hand as he offers it, letting him guide you to kneel over his face. You grip the headboard as you hover over him, his hands settling on your hips. 

“Wait-” You say, before he can pull you down onto his face. “What if I suffocate you?” 

“Then I’ll die a happy man.” He says, tugging you down onto his mouth. 

You let out a gasp as his tongue drags through your folds, already soaked from his teasing. His tongue flicks across your clit, eliciting a quiet moan from your lips. Your hips jerk when his mouth closes around your clit, suckling at it with a lewd smack of his lips. 

“Fuck!” You gasp, grinding your hips against his face as he continues to tease your clit, drawing patterns on it with his tongue. 

You’re close already, your legs trembling around his head. He holds you steady, keeping you still above him as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking on it harshly. Your knees attempt to squeeze around his head as you cum, soaking his face with a cry. He continues to lap at your folds, licking up every last bit of your release before he finally lets you move off his face.

You drop to the side, staring down at him as you try to catch your breath. He licks his lips, his face shiny with your juices. He reaches a hand over, tangling his fingers in your hair as he pulls your face down to his, kissing you. You moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue and lips, already starting to get wet again. 

Kyle wraps his arms around you, flipping you onto your back under him. He hovers over you, the bulge in his pants very visible, even from this position. 

“Sweet little omega.” He says, nipping at your lips. “So fucking perfect.” 

“Kyle,” You gasp, pulling him down into a kiss. “Need you.” 

“I got you.” He soothes you, pressing another kiss to your lips before he sits back on his knees between your legs, staring down at you. He drags his fingers through your folds, still just as slick as they had been before your orgasm. “So fucking wet.” He groans, hastily undoing his belt and pants, kicking them off the end of the bed. 

You stare at him in awe, his cock just as beautiful as he is. Long and thick, curved just slightly. You can’t help but ogle him as he wraps a hand around the base, squeezing it. He’s hard, raging hard, the tip leaking precum already. He really has been so patient, waiting for this. You almost feel bad making him wait so long, but he had agreed to be patient, if only to keep Johnny from making everyone’s lives miserable with his pouting if he didn’t get to go first. 

It’s only fair that you let Johnny go first too, considering Kyle will likely be the one you spend the most time with. It’s only natural, thanks to your bond with John. Kyle’s your beta, just as much as John is your alpha. You’d like Johnny to be your beta too, but you know without that bond with Ghost, it’ll never feel quite the same as it does with Kyle. Regardless, you’ll continue to treat Johnny as if he was your beta. 

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Kyle asks, watching you as you get lost in thought.

You truly do it at the worst possible times.

You lift your gaze to his, staring into those big brown eyes. “Just waiting on you to hurry up and fuck me.” 

You let out a yelp as Kyle’s hand smacks your inner thigh, the sound cracking through the room. 

“Don’t get cheeky now.” He warns, rubbing the spot on your skin that’s quickly turning warm from his smack. “Just making sure you’re alright.” 

“Fine.” You say, spreading your legs further for him. “Be better if you finally fucked me.” 

Your laugh is broken by a moan as he drags his head through your folds, his hand falling to grip your waist. 

“That needy for me, huh?” He asks, teasingly pressing the tip of his cock into you before pulling back. 

“Just worried you might not make it since you’ve waited so long.” You gasp, trying to move your hips to take him deeper into you, but he pins you with the hand on your hip. 

“Careful what you wish for.” He says, the warning clear in his tone. You handled Johnny just fine, you can certainly handle Kyle. 

You hope. 

He finally takes pity on you, sinking his cock deeper into you. You moan at the stretch, flopping back on the bed as you try to relax around him. He rolls his hips in short thrusts, sinking deeper and deeper as you open up to him. You reach for him as he sinks even further into you, his body folding over yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, staring up at him as he seats himself completely inside you, hips pressed flush against yours. 

“Hi.” You breathe, getting lost in his soft gaze. 

“Hi, love.” He grins down at you, fingers brushing your cheeks as he leans on his elbows above you. “Doing alright?” 

You nod, squeezing around him. “Yeah. Feels good.” 

“Good.” He says, leaning down to kiss you. “Been waiting so long for this. Feels better than I imagined.” 

You let out a quiet whine, clenching around him again. The thought of him imagining this, trying to picture what you’d look like, what you’d feel like while he waited patiently for his turn has your body burning hot. You shift your hips below him, causing him to move inside you. 

“Kyle?” You breathe, shifting again. “Please move.” 

“I got you, love.” He smiles down at you, pulling his hips back before slowly pressing forward again. 

Your head falls back as he moves, keeping his pace slow and languid. Heat burns through your veins, your very nerve endings alive as he slowly rolls his hips into you. Something thrums in the back of your mind, the mark on your shoulder almost tingling as you stare up at him, your fingers trailing over the mark on his shoulder, a mirror of the one on your own. A shudder runs through him as your fingers brush the scar, his lips parting in a low groan. You clench around him at the sight of such unbridled pleasure on his face, pulling him closer against your body.

He drags your pleasure out as he makes love to you, slow and passionate and deliberate with every movement. You know you won’t last much longer, the sensations beginning to overwhelm you. 

“I’m close.” You breathe into Kyle’s ear, pressing kisses across his neck. “Don’t stop.” 

“Gonna cum for me?” He groans, keeping his thrusts steady. “Gonna let me see that beautiful face as you come undone for me?” 

Your back arches as you cum, pushed over the edge by his words. Your nails bite into his shoulders, but he offers no complaint as he continues to roll his hips into yours, working you through your orgasm as he chases his own. His pace picks up slightly as he gets closer and closer to the edge, your eyes on his face, wanting to watch him now. 

“Your turn.” You breathe, still trying to catch your breath from your orgasm as you clench around him. 

His head tilts back, lips parted in a deep moan as his hips jerk. His cock twitches inside you, his thrusts getting sloppy as he cums. You trail your hands over his back, sinking your teeth into your lip as you watch his face morph into complete bliss. You’ve never seen anything quite so beautiful. 

He collapses on top of you, just managing to keep his weight off of you thanks to his elbows planted on the bed beside your head. You continue to rub his back, fingers tracing the smooth, sweat slicked skin, only pausing to trace the scars that you find. Kyle presses soft kisses to your face, slowly trailing lower across your jaw and neck. He presses a kiss to your mark, a shudder running through you. He lets out a groan as you clench around him, shifting so he’s face to face with you again. 

“Give me a minute.” He says, slipping out of you as he presses a kiss to your lips. 

“Tired already?” You ask cheekily. 

“No,” He says, kissing you again before slowly sliding down your body. “Just need a minute to catch my breath. Besides,” He settles between your thighs, pressing them open so he’s face to face with your pussy. “I’ve got a mess to clean up.” 

You stand outside the door of John’s office, brows pulled into a frown. You have a feeling you already know what he’s going to say, yet your mind keeps reeling, coming up with the most fantastical ideas as to why you were summoned to his office in the middle of the day. It’s weird that he’s in his office in the middle of the day. Usually they’d be off training, but he’d pulled them all into a meeting this morning after breakfast, one that had gone into your usual lunch time, and then they hadn’t gone to train after you finally got to eat. 

“Come in.” 

Your hand pauses on the handle as you hesitate, almost as if you could prevent what’s going to happen by just not going in. It’s a ridiculous thought. Avoiding this will only likely get you into trouble. 

You step into the office, the air inside different from any of the other times you’ve been in his office. John’s face looks grim and focused behind his desk, and it’s not hard to tell you’re not facing John right now, you’re facing Captain Price. 

You take the seat across from him at his desk when he motions to it, trying to fight the tears threatening to brim in your eyes as you stare at him. You won’t cry. You knew this was going to happen eventually. You knew going in what was going to inevitably happen. You had been well prepared for this part of your new reality, yet you don’t want to acknowledge it now that you’re staring it in the face. 

“I know you’ve likely already figured out what’s going on.” He says, his voice gruff and deeper than normal. 

You can see it in his face. He’s fighting his own battle with having to tell you. You hadn’t expected it, to see him struggle with it. He knew it as well as you did. He knew it better than you did, and yet, you can see the turmoil behind that focused gaze. 

He lets out a sigh as he continues, hands closing into fists on his desk, his tone almost apologetic. The words sting despite the fact you had known they were coming, despite the fact you had expected them when you walked into the office. “This morning we had a debrief for a new assignment. We’ll be leaving tonight. All four of us.”  

NEXT ->

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[seat-safety-switch]

Couple years ago, in engineering school, we built this robot for a final project. It was called "Fun Facts Frank," and it – I guess he – would follow you around the room, telling you fun facts about the world. Sounds simple, but there was just something about how he toodle-bootled throughout the place, genially meeting people before dispensing information about salamanders or spaghettini that won over our prof. And then he left the door open.

We never saw Fun Facts Frank again. The other folks in my group looked for him, but I knew it was futile. Against their recommendation, I had strapped a very powerful electric motor and an enormous battery to Frank, because I wasn't sure if we would be able to find an outlet on the day of the big presentation. It turns out that this gave Frank an effective range of "the entire fucking province." Also, Tedward thought it would be cute if Frank could ask you to plug him in when his batteries ran low. Nobody could resist such an adorable robot, so we figured he could easily travel from bar to bar, regurgitating Wikipedia for a couple cents of block-heater-outlet juice at a time.

After a while of searching, we did give up. Final exam season was coming up, and in all that excitement it seemed like Frank was the least important problem on our plates. It wasn't wise to cut out our studying and day-drinking to go searching for a wayward robot, especially one that had been explicitly programmed to avoid harming anyone. We got busy with our careers after that. Years passed before Charlie remembered about it, and by then we really didn't have a good idea where to find him.

Well, one fateful evening, I turned on the news, and Fun Facts Frank had become Mayor Frank. He was apologizing to the small town he had tricked into voting for him. Turns out we never programmed him to have fun facts about how to avoid massive overland flooding, and he instead spent the entire prep period driving around the shore of the river, telling everyone about how hot the surface of Mercury was instead of helping carry sandbags. We went there to pick him up, but he had already been re-elected by then, and his security guards had fun facts about truncheons applied to a bunch of nerds for us as well.

[terrifiedlimechime]

RELATIVITY FALLS!

basically: gravity falls but the stan twins are kids and mabel and dipper are the adults in the plot of gravity falls

as well as that, I wanted to switch the villians. Bill is human and takes the place of gideon, and instead of obsessing over mabel he pursues ford (he's twelve as well lol. BILLFORD FOREVER!!!)

whereas gideon takes the place of bill, a chaos god (maybe i'll make him the shape of the star on his telepathy tent instead of a triangle, or I might tweak his human design a bit, idrk) who's obsessed with mabel.

people always put dipper in the place of ford (in the portal) bc he's a nerd, but to suit the switch of villans, mabel is getting sucked into the multiverse!

I like to think she got lulled into a false sense of security with gideon like in the show in the same way ford was with bill, but with fashion instead of science. (like when their still friends w lil gid and gideon brings her to get her nails n stuff done)

so in my au mabel is very into fashion the same way ford is into science, a prodigy with a insane talent for knitting, sowing, design, the whole shabang

while dipper is similar to the usual show, nerdy sci-fi obsessed wise guy but nothing too crazy

but together mabel and dipper solved mysteries in california together and someday dream of becoming "the mystery twins" and searching (in parallel to the stans) on a hot air balloon/ plane/ something sky related

but mabel gets offered a place in a big league fashion school, and they're going to come and see her project for the school fashion fair

dipper (like stan) is disgruntled by the dress interrupting their dreams and future together (parallel to dipper and mabel vs to the show. kind of)  and puts his hands on the dress angrily without thinking, staining the dress with his sweaty palms (like how stan is in the show, and how ford described him in journal three: "an abnormally sweaty 12 year old....perhaps he takes after stanley")

when the fashion gurus or whatever show up to see mabels design, they see the prints and dimiss her, ruining her chance at getting into her dream school. seeing the sweaty hand marks, thinks immediately of her brother, confronts him, the same as the scene in a tale of two stans essentially

d: "i...mabel, maybe this isnt all bad...at least we can go...be the mystery twins?"

m: "how could you say that?! why would I want to do anything with the person who sabotaged my future!"

so where does mabel go to college? you (probably) guessed it...backupsmore!

she begins a degree...yadayada, smart people stuff, clever references to the original show, blah blah blah, goes to college with candy and grenda (they take the place of mcgucket)

annnnd now a scene I over thought way too much) all her life, mabel had been teased for her crooked teeth, her messy hair, her stickers and glitter everywhere...etc, and she grew fascinated with beauty in imperfection, the whole maximalism, out of the ordinary/norms of fashion (the ford deciding to study abnormalities bc of his six fingers scenece is so important to me for no reason)

she grew curious of a certain place where the impossible seemed possible...

gravity falls! (how surprising)

and what, my dear reader, was our main man dipper up to?

well, much like stan, he struck gold in sales. or...selling by yourself anyway, as he'd been trying to selling his scifi abnormality comics, board games, fact books/ something like that bro. he was smart-ish, giving lectures ab science-y stuff in different colleges, not happy at all and js about providing for himself. he misses mabel...alot.

over with mabel, she's experimenting with the weirdness of gravity falls, enjoying it all with her friend, gideon! (spoiler alert: he sucks)

but at the end of the day...what is she waiting for? she can't just...be good....she has to remembered! to be put down history as...one of the greatest designers of all time! heck...what is she even working for if not to be put down in history? what has she studied for? she has to round of her studies with a bang!

luckily gideon has a few ideas...

g: you see...what if...you built a portal to another dimension? has any designer ever done that before? sent their models and crew to another universe? think...how you'd go down...the most revolutionary name in fashion! you'd be leading fashion AND science!"

(tw: this is a trick on gideons part lol)

mabel enlists the help of candy and grenda, blablabla whatever...mcgucket/ford situation all over again, someone sees the nightmare realm, traumatised forever, yadayada, mabel goes insane bc gideon is "less than nice..." (can you tell I'm getting lazy lmao)

dipper is just ab scraping by, making money by doing lectures and the like, hopping state each time he loses a job with a new name so he can work for another prestigious college w out the track record and trying to publish his scifi silly novel thingy when he gets a post card through the door of his motel:

°•.GRAVITY FALLS.•°

please come, -mabel

dipper makes his way to gravity falls, where mabel is immediately suspicious of him, checking his eyes to see if he's possessed, barbed grappling hook ready to shoot and looking very much like a crazed scientist rather then a fashion designer, and perhaps that's what she's become, moulded under gideons hand

she interrogates him, similarly to how ford interrogated stan:

m: *grappling hook ready to shoot* "HEY! WHO ARE YOU? HAVE YOU COME TO STEAL MY EYES?-"

d: "weird way to say welcome in, mabel"

hurring him in, she checks his eyes, lalalalala...mabel promptly shows him the third journal, branded with a shooting star.

m: "it's.. I don't know enough about science...me and candy, grenda, we started, i've put my heart and soul into these, dipper, but he needs them, and he can't have them, never...if he does..."

d: "god, mabel, I always knew you were crazy, but this is a whole new level. I thought you came here for fashion?"

blabla, backstory explanation to eachother (im this 🤏 close to giving up) when mabel pops the big question

m: "remember our plans...the mystery twins, adventuring in the skies, on a plane?"

dipper is really excited, this is the moment, all this science stuff, it was preparation for-

m: "get on a plane, fly as FAR away from here as possible, to the ends of the earth, and hide the journal-"

d: "wait...that's IT? I finally see you for the first time in YEARS and the first thing you want me to do is get as far away from you as possible?"

m: "listen-"

d: "no, YOU LISTEN. im excited to see my sister after a decade and you want me out of your sight? im just about scraping by while you're living it up in your fancy house in the woods doing fashion-glam shit! you think you've got it bad? i've got a MULLET, mabel! im trying my best to survive while you're all cushy in the woods-"

m: "you don't know what I've been through!-"

d: "what YOU'VE been through? I've lost my job in SEVERAL different states, while you're selfishly hoarding your college money-"

m: "ME? SELFISH? how could you say that after costing me my DREAM SCHOOL?

a bit more squabbling, basically the scene in a tale of two stans. in this au dipper isn't born with his big dipper mark on his forehead, rather he gets it burned onto his forehead the way stan gets his tattoo, mabel pauses, "im so sorry dipper-" gets pushed, the portal starts turning on, dipper pushes her away.

d: "tch, "mystery twins." how could I be so stupid? here's a simple mystery; why did mabel's brother travel four hours to roadkill oregon for her? because he thought his sister CARED for him. wanted to see him, even. possibly because he missed her. but dont worry, it wont happen again. some sister you turned out to be."

he does the whole push into the portal, ahhh mabel come back, oh no what have i done thingy. he immediately tries to opperate it, fails, blablabla. when he realises shes gone and not coming back, he screams, for a minute, half an hour, an hour, he doesn't know, he just cant do anything else.

doesn't sleep. for a long time. he doesn't really move off the couch, actually. he eats so he doesn't faint. or sleep. he doesn't go anywhere so he doesn't have to fix himself up or wash, because he feels he doesn't deserve the luxury of self care or nice food or comfort or rest. but eventually the food runs out and he decides he can't die without bringing back his sister.

at the shop, it's the same scene as with stan, "oooh smart science-y fashion person, do u give tours?" he has no money so he has to, it's shit at first but improves over time and so the mystery shack is born.

as much as dipper always loved the supernatural, he decides that he doesn't want another run in with the portal/ paranormal accident so all the attractions are fake. dipper is just as stressed and unhappy as before, but the tight clockwork of his life keeps him together. make money with the shack, save mabel. that's all that's keeping him here.

until the stan twins show up!

[enteroctopusdarkysilis]

✨Kamino’s citadel challenge !✨

I am…very excited about this one. I’ve had this vision for a long time, and I’m so happy it’s ended up looking like that.

Now, there are a lot of things I’ll go into details along close ups under the cut; the only thing I’ll mention above is that I’m very grateful for TCW’s episode guides’ artworks, without which this would have been quite a hassle.

Okay ! Before diving into all the details and things, here is a view from above, to really display how big it is. Dimension-wise, the plank I built it on is around 110*70cm.

Now of course, the first detail which is noticeable is the floor, because, well, it’s everywhere.

This was probably the most challenging part of the build, because making a grid out of Lego is tough. Most of it is rows and rows of dark square, light lines, separated by 1*n tiles. It was the easiest way to get this pattern with as if it were just tiles; because this is one of the objectives I had here : most of this MOC is smooth, except for a few zones (usually voluntarily).

The fact I used this technic means that the floor in most place isn’t very stable, but it actually holds up pretty well because of some hidden connection points with the foundations underneath, which are mostly hidden under the cover blocks.

Here for instance, I’m using modified 1*2 bricks with a Technic hole : it hold the cover block, and it also attaches the floor to the foundation.

Of course, another problem I ran into were slopes. Much harder to get a smooth effect with the technic I’ve used, so it’s a bit wonky and unstable. Also, most them are not aligned properly, which is visible in the picture above (and some area have some really big misalignments because of a few problems I probably won’t bore anyone reading this with).

Now, since they’re also here, I can deal with the cover blocks. These were, among the details, the hardest to figure out, to get a good size while keeping some texture. Eventually I came up with this design, which, ironically enough, uses the same technic the floor uses, in a different orientation.

Another detail : the miradors :

This is one of the first elements I had in place, because I needed them to get a good sense of scale (and was made better by an existing concept art of a tower alone). Most of it does not have anything noteworthy, except for one illegal technic I used (can you spot it ?)

The pillar holding the roof of the mirador is using a technic I had in my toolbox for a long time, but had never had the occasion to use : if you take two 'brick' bricks and attach them perpendicularly on a snot brick, the small space separating the lines of 'bricks' align to let a 1*n tile in. It’s somewhat reliable (for an illegal technic) and an easy way to get octogonal shapes.

Now, before looking at the Citadel itself, let’s turn around for a minute.

This point of view obviously isn’t the intended one, but it’s still worth noting, if only for some composition.

Notice that the wall here is quite small (smaller than the miradors, even), and light gray; it’s in contrast with the towering dark gray wall on the other side, behind the citadel, which technically should give at least some impressions even to the people who never saw TCW.

Anyway, it’s also on this view that we can see most of my slope struggles, including the central one, which is the biggest I had to do.

And I can’t not mention the most important element :

What would be the challenge without a squad of clones to take it on ? These clones (4 privates and a sergent) are ready to fight ! Well. Kinda. I wish I could have actual cadets, but they are not part of the Lego universe (and the floor was enough of a fee, I can’t afford to get customs figures too). I wish I had the Dominos though. I have TBB Echo, and I plan to get my hands on Fives at some point, but they wouldn’t fit here, sadly, so instead I used some movie accurate clones (because all the others are used for a project I still haven’t posted..maybe later…)

Notably, I at some point tried to get the elevator to work - needless to say it was a disaster (it’s too close to the plate underneath to make something working).

Now, without further ado. The citadel.

I’m very proud of it. I got the proportions just right (I actually made some measurements to make sure of it), and there is just enough texture to not make it bland while leaving it as artificial. This alone took roughly 8-10h (which were all spent during an accidental all nighter, whoops), but it was worth it. It’s completely empty inside, and, in fact, the wall behind it isn’t full as well, anything behind the citadel is opened. The spikes are simple 1*3 angle plates illegally connected, and the walls’ small details were made with a bunch of modified 1*2 plates, there isn’t anything really special in it.

The only really complicated zone was the middle tower, because I had to put all the cannons while keeping it clean and smooth, and including the vertical lime lines. It was a fun challenge. And I included the 'flag' At the top, too, just a red transparent cone on a stick (there’s no need for more), which peeks above the gray wall (for composition and because of a lack of pieces).

Anyway, such a long project deserves one behind the scene photo :

Yes, my desk is messy (and include my mandatory tea cup).

On the left, you can see my remaining floor tiles, which have not been used yet; and just under the citadel, you might notice the foundations visible; it’s a checker of 2*2 tiles which gives my floor a good base to be fixed on. There are also some slopes which haven’t been placed yet (in front of the background miradors), and at this steps, there were no cover blocks or walls yet.

As far as my tools go, you might notice brick separators scattered all around my work environment (I never have enough of those), as well as a tablet in the bottom right hand corner (which i use to check and measure concept arts), and in the middle, the red triangle is an official (albeit old) Lego measurement tool which counts in stud, Lego bar holes and axe length.

Also visible, finally, is the bottom of the foundations, which are stacks of 1*2 bricks (each of the three floor layer is separated by a height of 3 bricks), which means that looking directly under it can lead to watching the dark basement of my build (which isn’t aesthetic…).

Anyway, if you read until here, thanks, I guess ? I still have a few TCW related stuff (a small one next week, some other in the foreseeable feature), so feel free to stick around and maybe leave a note, if you feel like it ? That’s it, bye !

[almostgenerallyalways]

mamas (don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader Category: angst / fluff / run-on sentences Word count: 3,1k CW: language, I’ve been to Texas once okay forgive me, divorce Author’s note: this was supposed to be a holiday fic but I got stuck on it and almost abandoned it, but here it is rescued from my drafts, shoutout to all the amazing tgm fic writers your writing truly astounds me

Summary: Every year around the holidays, you hear from your ex. This year when you don’t respond, he decides to show up at your door. 

2022

Jake UT  [November 23, 2022 at 10:24 PM]

Hey stranger

Visiting my mom for Thanksgiving

How’ve you been?

You ignore the message. How you’ve been in the last twelve months is not something you feel up to discussing with him.

You spend the next weeks dealing with crisis after crisis at work, leaning into the chaos like you have been all year. Your personal life? Garbage fire. Reconfiguring your entire pump setup two weeks before going to production, because the DoC slapped an import ban on one of your key suppliers in China? You’re on top of it.

But then, the week before Christmas, another message comes in:

Jake UT  [December 17th, 2022 at 3:47 PM]

Hey

In town for the holidays

Would love to see you if you’re free

Brett welcome too, of course

A pang in your chest, but curiosity gets the better of you, so you text back:

Thanksgiving and Christmas? Judy must be thrilled.

You’ve met Jake’s mom all of one time, ten years ago, but she made a lasting impression. Fiercely protective of her only son, she’d been wary of you at first (you were, in order of importance: Too non-Texan, too vegetarian, and too focused on trying to rescue an almost-due group project for your sustainable water management class in which no one was pulling their weight).

And yet, over the Thanksgiving weekend you’d spent at Jake’s mother’s house in Colton, she’d slowly warmed up to you. You’d asked her endless questions about her job as a project manager at Austin-Bergstrom, and she’d poured you half glasses of wine (still exotic, to you, back then) at the kitchen island, shooing Jake back into the living room.

She’d even called you, after you guys broke up, to say she was sorry to hear it, and to tell you to call her up any time you needed someone to talk to. You’d tried your best to keep your voice even, not to break down in tears for the seventh time that day, and never called her again.

* * *

“Dude. Put your phone away for two minutes.”

Jake looks up apologetically at his friend, and pockets the device. “Sorry. Just expecting a text.”

Sandeep holds out his bottle of Lone Star, and Jake clinks it with his own. “It’s good to see you, man. Sorry I wasn’t around at Thanksgiving, we were visiting Jed’s family in NC. I didn’t expect you to be back so soon.”

Jake takes a swig of his beer, the cold liquid feeling like a balm to his throat. “Yeah, well. It’s been a big year, work-wise, so they owed me one. I wanted to spend some extra time with my mom.”

Bringing up his drink to toast again, Sandeep says: “Here’s to you, bud. And to getting that permanent assignment in California. At least we knew where to send our holiday card this year.”

Condensation drips down the neck of his bottle, and Jake spins it slowly in his hand, stopping himself from peeling off the label. He feels on edge, unmoored, despite this 6th Street dive bar being as familiar to him as the back of his own hand.

Sandeep’s got his number. “Seeing anyone else while you’re in town? I don’t know, Myers?”

Jake doesn’t look up, but feels his cheeks heat up fractionally.

His friend takes another swig of his beer. “I guess I should stop calling her Myers. You know, with the divorce and all.”

The bottle escapes Jake’s grip, and amber liquid sloshes across the table, into Sandeep’s lap. “Shit, Seresin! Grab some napkins, will you?”

* * *

 2012

 You’d always known there was an expiration date on this thing with Jake, which is why you’d been reluctant to meet his mom to begin with.

You wanted fundamentally different things. He, the Navy: Adventure, excitement, a chance to serve his country. You: Stability. A family. A place where you belonged.

Both of you: an opportunity to prove yourself.

It’s civil, as far as breakups go.

“You always knew I wanted to fly.” He says, over breakfast at Magnolia Café. There’s a hard set to his jaw that makes you soften in contrast, because of course you do, everyone who’s ever been near Jake Seresin for longer than ten minutes knows he’s always wanted to fly.

From your first date he told you about how Judy used to park him in her office at the airport when her summer childcare fell through; little Jake happily spending the day watching commercial jets taxiing and taking off in quick succession.

How her coworkers, the civilian engineers who’d stayed on after Bergstrom Air Force Base was decommissioned and commercialized, would regale him with stories about generations of F-4 Phantoms. Or the British Airways Concorde, one of only twenty of the ill-fated aircraft ever made, bringing the Queen to Austin in a little yellow hat. The Reconnaissance Air Meet bringing in the best fighter pilots from across all divisions of the military and abroad, to compete and show off their skills.

Jake would listen to them with stars in his eyes.

You pick at your migas, your appetite gone. “I know, Jake. I would never stop you.”

But you look at him, and you know your face mirrors his determination. “But I can’t come with you, Jake. I can’t start my career following you around from camp to base year to year. I’m forty-thousand dollars in debt getting this degree, and I need to follow my own plan.”

You haven’t moved in together, though Jake spends most of his nights at your tiny off-campus apartment, where you’ve made him countless cups of black coffee trying to fuel weekend study sessions. Where he would come in past midnight, back from the late shift at his part-time job at the H-E-B, and bury his face in your neck, waking you up even though you’d been asleep for hours. Where you would hold his sleeping head to your chest, his deep breathing somehow felt inside of you, and run your fingers up and down the bare skin of his back, trying to memorize him.

You’re twenty-two, you tell yourself. This is not the end of the world.

So you see him off at the front door, a box of his things clutched to his chest, and you force yourself to be strong. “You better be,” and you try to smile up at him, but you’re not sure you’re doing a convincing job, “You better be the best goddamn pilot the Navy has ever seen, Jake.”

For a second, he looks like he wants to say something, but then he just puts down the box, and pulls you into a last embrace. You sink into it, the fundamentally safe feeling of his arms around you, then make yourself pull away after a minute, pretending you don’t see the wet stains on his shirt.

Later you look at all the spaces in your apartment he is now conspicuously absent from (no dog-eared volume of Game of Thrones on the nightstand, no boots by the door), and it hits you then; the crevasse he’s left in your life. It may run deeper than you thought.

* * *

Jake had gone to Officer Candidate School in Rhode Island, then designator-specific training in Pensacola, Florida, and done his best not to think about you.

It helped that his days were intense and exhausting. It helped that, on liberty weekends, girls would flock to him and his friends in bars.

It helped to be several states away from you.

It helped to be living his dream.

* * *

There is a bit of a backslide, that first Thanksgiving after, where you both think it can’t hurt to see each other for one drink, for old time’s sake, which ends in him taking you up against the door in your new apartment, your legs wrapped around his waist because he does not have the willpower or presence of mind to figure out the way to your bedroom.

He knows it was a mistake, at about five AM the next day, when the blue light of morning starts streaming through a gap in the curtains, illuminating your tousled hair fanned out over the pillow, the steady rise and fall of your chest so familiar to him he could cry.

Untangling himself from you hurts, and he does perhaps the most cowardly thing he ever will: he sneaks out before you wake up. But next week he’s shipping out, and the thought of the same dead-end conversation over coffee made just the way he likes it is unbearable, so he makes himself walk away.

Somehow it’s worse, the second time around.

* * *

You’d met someone else, like he’d known you would. He sees the engagement announcement on Facebook, browsing on his phone between drills, and likes the post. It’s the third year he’s been away, and he’s at TOPGUN by then, so he has a lot on his mind. He has a girlfriend, even, a local: cute as a button, beats him savagely at pool.

It doesn’t fully hit him until the first time he sees you with your then-fiancé, at a little holiday reunion of college friends. He sees you with that ring on your finger, another man’s arm around your shoulders, and he gets an acute sense of the alternate reality that could’ve been his.

It feels a little like losing altitude too fast.

Your initial reception of him is understandably frosty, but you seem too genuinely happy to hold a grudge. By the third round, when he sidles up to you at the bar, you give him a quick hug, looking up at him with a smile that squeezes his heart: “I’m so proud of you, Jake.”

He nods, not quite trusting himself to speak, and pulls you back in, just for a moment, tucking your head under his chin. You smell like apple and magnolia, like nights spent with his nose pressed into your back.

You don’t invite him to the wedding, and he’s all too glad not to have to make up an excuse not to go.

* * *

Things settle, after that. Jake gets deployed and reassigned, breaks up with his girlfriend and eventually gets another. You get promoted to senior engineer, then project lead. You see each other, not every year but close enough, sometimes with your husband there, sometimes without.

He braces himself for the next Facebook post; that you’re pregnant, but it never comes. Over time, even that seems to lose some of its potential emotional impact on him.  

Until three weeks ago, when you don’t text him back.

* * *

 2022

 You kick your shoes off in the entryway, then head into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. Before you can reach the tap, the doorbell rings, and for a second you think somehow, some way, your terrible Bumble date has followed you home.

Grabbing the biggest kitchen knife you own off the magnet strip over the sink, just in case, you creep back to the door, barefoot, to press your face up to the peephole.

You don’t really expect to see the guy you just left, the ice in your glass not even melted before you were thinking up excuses to get out of there, but you sure as fuck don’t expect to see Jake either.

The door feels heavier than usual as you slowly slide it open, or maybe you’re just a little stunned. The night air hits your skin, and you can make out the sound of dogs barking in the distance.

For a long moment, Jake just looks at you, but then he says: “What were you planning on doing with that, sweetheart?”

You follow the jut of his chin down the line of your arm, and contemplate the knife for a second, Jake’s sudden appearance having made you forget all about it.

“I thought someone might have followed me here.”

“Ah.” He says, a spark in his eyes, clearly suppressing a smile. “If you were going to defend yourself in hand-to-hand combat, a knife is a terrible choice. I could give you some tips, though.”

Putting the damn thing down on your entryway console, you turn back to look at him. It’s not cold, exactly, in December in South Central Austin, but he looks underdressed: a long-sleeved light grey t-shirt, hands shoved in the pockets of a faded pair of jeans.

He looks good, you can’t deny it: he’s always had an immediate effect on you.

Jake, your somewhat gangly, sweet college boyfriend had it. Jake, ten years of military training later: older, filled out, fine crinkly lines starting to appear at the corners of his eyes (helped along by the California sun and God knows what far-off places), irrevocably still does.

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. “What are you doing here, Jake?”

At that, his expression sobers, and he looks at you for a long moment before he says:

“You didn’t tell me.”

* * *

Fucking Sandeep, you think, rubbing the back of your hand across your eyes, because that fucker has not been subtle with the hints lately, tutting like a Victorian matron while you pass the time evaluating your Bumble matches with his husband during Monday night football’s ad breaks.

The granite of your kitchen countertop feels reassuringly cool beneath your thighs, and you take a deep breath, keeping your eyes on the tile below:

“I wasn’t ready.”

Jake huffs, or so you assume by the little sound that escapes him, as you determinedly face only his sneakers: “It’s been a year. You sure told everyone else we know.”

That makes your head snap up, emotion rising in your chest in a way you don’t like, have always had to tamp down when it comes to him, these last ten years. “Fuck off, Jake. You know it’s different when it comes to you.”

He leans back against the fridge, arms folded, just slightly lifting his right eyebrow at you in that irritating way of his: “I could’ve been there for you.”

Fuck it, you think, all cards on the table then. “I was heartbroken, and embarrassed, and trying to figure out how to exist on my own again after being married for five years to someone who didn’t turn out to be who I thought he was, Jake. Sorry my first impulse wasn’t to come cry on my hometown hero ex-boyfriend’s shoulder.”

His eyes soften, and he pushes off the fridge to come stand next to you, running his fingers over the edge of the countertop. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice quieter than a moment ago. “I’m being a dick. It’s just, you have to know, I would’ve been there for you.”

He pauses for a second, takes a deep breath: “It’s always been different when it comes to you too, sweetheart.”

You start to shake, a little, or maybe it’s your imagination. But your voice wavers as you say his name, everything about your tone a warning: “Jake.”

He closes his eyes, shakes his head: “Our timing sucked, and I don’t regret our decision from back then. I’m proud of who I’ve become in the last ten years, and I’m proud of you. You think I don’t keep up with what you’re doing? The articles you’ve published?”

This stuns you, momentarily. “No, Jake Seresin. If I’m completely honest, I didn’t think you gave a shit about the latest advances in Texas drought management.”

Just being near him, the familiar smell of him bringing up memories you’ve had years to unsuccessfully repress, is overpowering.

He makes it worse by turning to you, face so goddamn heartbreakingly earnest as he says: “I couldn’t give you what you deserved, ten years ago, but I always told myself, if I was ever in a position to…” He swallows. “I tried to forget about it when you got married, I tried to root for you and Brett, I swear.”

His hand settles next to your thigh, not quite touching, and your hand comes down on its own accord to cover his. He straightens almost imperceptibly, uses his other palm to wipe a tear that’s made its way down your cheek.

Cupping your face, he draws a deep breath. “I have a permanent assignment now, in San Diego. I know it’s…”

“Jake.” You interrupt, squeezing your eyes shut, grabbing the hem of his shirt. “I’m not remotely the same person I was back then.”

He moves to stand in front of you now, and you draw him in between your thighs. Suddenly it seems imperative that you feel him, that he holds you.

Dipping his head to yours, you can hear the smile in his voice, watery, tentative: “Then let me get to know you again. Get to know me again.” He leans one hand on the counter, the other tracing your cheekbone. “No pressure. I’m totally very cool about this. Whatever you want.”

You laugh, a little choked up through tears, but genuine. It feels liberating. “What if I say yes? How does this work?”

His smile broadens, eyes crinkling at the corners, and he’s so goddamn close, nudging your nose with his. “Come visit me, for a start. I’ll show you the sights.”

You draw him in a little closer still, legs wrapping around his waist, one hand finding its way into his close-cropped hair, and you could cry for how familiar he still feels after all these years.

But when you close the gap between your lips and his, it’s like coming home and yet not at all: he’s different and rougher and sharper and it floods you with emotion, something big and terrifying and old and new.

He leans into the kiss, grinning, cards his fingers through your hair before he moves to cover your chin, your brow, the space next to your ear with kisses, and you remember this with a jolt to your heart – how singularly intense it is to be the focus of Jake Seresin, like the strength of the sun is aimed at you, how he never does anything by halves.

You take his chin in your hand, kiss him again for good measure, before saying, into the stubble of his jaw: “One visit. No pressure.”

The grin he gives you in return could power half this city: “One visit. No pressure.”

He dips his head to yours again, kissing the skin behind your ear as he tells you: “Southern California has a lot of drought problems, you know. I’ve actually been reading some really scary articles about it.”

.

.

.

i hope you enjoyed :):) - if you liked this I hope you’ll check out some of my other work:

where the wild things are (rooster x reader)

cross my heart (hangman x reader) masterlist

[cresneta]

「103」

Our poor hobbyless spy really doesn't know how to relax. Here's hoping that he continues letting Yor teach him how to relax.

Also, it's going to be interesting to see how Anya reacts if Twilight decides to turn investigating Project Apple into his "hobby." Given that at least one, possibly two now that I'm looking at these older panels again, of the scientists that experimented on Bond was also involved in the lab that experimented on Anya, and thus investigating them could lead to Twilight learning about Anya being able to read minds. Perhaps she'll get Yor to unwittingly help her keep Loid from investigating Project Apple, which would net us some more Twiyor moments. I'm allowed to dream, right?

I'll also say that I find it peculiar that Twilight isn't very busy at the moment, given that Nightfall is almost certainly still out of commission and thus WISE should be extra short staffed at the moment. I can't help but wonder if there's something big going on that WISE is just unaware of, and perhaps the government is using news of the seal to distract everyone from what's really going on? I do wonder if we're about to get a Yor-centric arc where she and Garden have to deal with the issue that WISE etc seem to be missing...

[seafoamreadings]

big things that are coming

here are the next few astrological events i would consider extra serious, in case you like to mark your calendars or be otherwise prepared.

lunar eclipse in pisces - eclipse season kicks off in mid-september with a full moon in pisces. this can be an emotionally fraught period and can also include insomnia or strange/vivid/lucid dreams or nightmares. settle things a bit by establishing healthy daily routines without sacrificing the magic inherent in daily life. stick to those rituals at least until eclipse season wraps up, but you might find you like them so much they become permanent. if you already have such routines, also consider overhauling them around this time.

solar eclipse in libra - the volatility of eclipse season continues into early october with this new moon. you can set intentions here like you can for any new moon but don't expect them to follow the plan you lay out for them. and whatever intentions you do or do not set, relationships (and your relationship with yourself) are at center stage. and they are not meant to be easy, simple, or flowing in this scenario. but that doesn't mean they won't work out for the best.

jupiter retrograde - this retrograde is not like the other retrogrades. this is a benevolent retrograde. in libra season just after the eclipse in libra, gemini jupiter in its station may flare up appetites for the luxurious and pleasureful. you don't have to overindulge; it's a choice. but it's wise to make sure you are enjoying things in this time!

pluto direct - these things really do happen in a chain or a cascade. this station is just a couple days after the retrograde of jupiter begins. tumult occurs mostly on a global or geopolitical scale, but you may also notice some destruction (for better or worse) in your personal life in the window of a few days around this. then pluto heads back for aquarius for the last time.

saturn direct - the next retrograde ending is not for another month after pluto heads for aquarius. but stuck projects, goals, desires, and dreams start to get a little bit unstuck, even if really only a little bit. plans, disciipline, and patience are auspicious; attempting forceful maneuvers will backfire.

[ar-cadez]

Count Duckula Fan Rewrite!!

Recently I’ve been working on a Count Duckula rewrite that aims to give it a slightly more serious tone and semi-serialized story like many modern cartoons! It took some time, but I made redesigns of the main cast. I had fun making this project and I REALLY hope you do too! Because I’m extremely nervous that the small fan base Count Duckula does have will hate this

I haven’t actually finished the show btw so if there’s an antagonist or smth that shows up later I should’ve redesigned.. lmk! I’m open to suggestions I really like this show..

—————————————————

Basic Concept

Practically the same as the original show! There is a long line of reincarnations of a wicked vampire duck named Count Duckula, the most recent reincarnation went wrong and now the current Count is a vegetarian and much more interested in becoming famous than being evil.

Some major differences include the tone and story structure, being semi-serialized and having more serious arcs mixed in with the antics, along with a lot of changes in characterization. A big story change is also that Nanny was not hired until AFTER Duckula was reincarnated so Igor was the one who screwed up the ritual.

Tone wise I’d also like to slightly age up the target audience so it could get away with a bit more dark humour. My favourite part of the original show was moments that were just so morbid and completely brushed past. 13+ would be fine methinks.

Basic plot of the average episode would be about the count’s hyperfixation of the week and trying to get famous or profit from it. Not every episode would follow this structure though.

The grander themes of the series would be all about expectations from family and strangers and how those expectations can be completely false.

—————————————————

Characters

^^ Final lineup! ^^

Sketches (less interesting poses but shows off some things better)

Count Duckula!

What I wanted to change

I feel like Duckula from the original spin-off was already a really strong character! There is a lot to him and really all I would want from a more emotional reboot is to dive into what’s already there. I did kinda project on him a bit in this rewrite though… gotta write what’cha know!

I also changed his design quite a bit. I never thought the suit fit his personality and I wanted to go with something a little more bright. If I go back again I might saturate his shirt a bit more. I also wanted all the residents of castle Duckula to have purple in their designs and for duckula and Towser to share similar colour’s inversed

Character Traits

Hatred of his legacy

Duckula is the first member of his lineage to not be an evil vampire and he hates that role that is expected of him. This is partially what drives him to be the nicest duck he can be, in hopes of shaking off his legacy. This also causes him to reject anything that's “spooky�� or has to do with vampires. He physically can't eat meat or blood due to his botched resurrection, but even the sight of either distresses him.

Attention Drive

Due to his infamy, all Duckula wants is to be liked by the general public. Everyone in his town is automatically scared of him and he tries really hard to change their opinions on him whether that be through attempting to bea good samaritan or by performing in town. (Both tend to end poorly for him)

ADHD and Theatre Kid Behaviour

Duckula is constantly picking up and putting down new forms of art and performance. This can be anything from oil painting to American football. He does tend to get frustrated or distracted and abandon projects or crafts entirely. His favourite artform is acting and music so as you can imagine he's very into musicals. His musical talents are decent but his acting is awful. He’s also known to loud and overly excited over his interests

Ego and Cowardice

Being given a position of power the day you came into existence does have the tendency to make you… immature to say the least. When in danger, if he even realises there is any, Duckula’s first move is to use his title as leverage. If that doesn't work, his second is to beg, grovel, and lie his way out of the situation. That, or hide behind his much more intimidating companions.

Rich Kid Syndrome

Having the majority of people you know be your house staff really messes with your sense of responsibility. Duckula can hardly do many basic life skills on his own because of this. It's not like he is completely lazy but he does have executive dysfunction and has yet to realise that fact, causing him to procrastinate on many things and completely forget or just get someone else to do it.

Not Naturally kind

Being his father’s reincarnation, it only makes sense that Duckula would inherit many traits from his past lives. Many of the other Counts were ego-driven cowards with desires for fame. They just went about it differently. Duckula actively tries to be kind and polite but a lot of passive aggression and snark slips through the cracks of that veneer. He would never want to admit that he has ANYTHING in common with his ancestors and he hates that being nice doesn't just come naturally to him. Being an immortal, Duckula also has a skewed sense of mortality and often doesn't understand the severity of certain injuries and situations.

This Duckula has ADHD and Autism in this rewrite and he struggles most with executive dysfunction, restricted interests, memory issues, atypical empathy (not specifically low or high), sensory issues (mostly with eating and some sound), and social cues. He also stims.

Towser!

What I Wanted to Change

Towser isn’t even really a character in the original. Just a running gag without a face. I wanted to balance out the main cast by adding another female character since I have feelings on Nanny as a character and i didn’t know if i would even be able to salvage that.

I really like what I came up with! She’s fun to me and I’ll probably flesh her out more later.

Character Traits

Family drive

Towser has little interest in birds that aren't close to her and it usually takes awhile for her to get used to new people. However, she’ll protect those that she does care about with her life. She is the castle’s guard dog and will do whatever’s necessary to protect it. This often comes at the cost of her sleep, because she feels like she always needs to be awake to protect them.

Tag Along

Following Duckula around like a puppy is what Towser does best! She might not fully understand his enthusiasm on certain subjects, but she's always up to backing him up on his newest fame seeking endeavours (though she herself prefers physical activity over creative works). She never expects anything to come of it, but hey, at least it's something to do. She also likes to hear Duckula rant to her about his interests.

Big Sister

Towser is of a much more stable mental state than Duckula, and as his only friend around his age, he trusts her more to be someone to talk to about his identity issues and issues in general. The two are a lot warmer towards each other than they are anyone else, and can also get away with messing with the other a lot more.

Big ol Lap dog

When in werewolf form, Towser tends to forget her size and often crushes them with her size. This usually wouldn't be a problem if it weren't for the fact that she's always a lot more cuddly and energetic in wolf form than bird form. This is because, as a werewolf, she's only in wolf form at night and being a fully nocturnal bird that should only be awake at night, this messes with her sleep rhythm a lot.

Igor!

What I wanted to Change

Personality wise Igor is already really strong and I didn’t change much of that. You’ll probably notice from the sketches that Igor has a skeleton hand, that’s because I made him undead in this version just to give a reason to how he’s been able to live this long since the original doesn’t really have one (which is fine)

Character Traits

Devotion to the role

Igor has been the Count’s butler since the first incarnation. He was assigned to keep the Duckula legacy alive by reincarnating his master every time he meets his fate and helping him readjust every time. Helping each new reincarnation bring misery and fear to the town they reside by with a smile… Until the most recent incarnation of course. He’ll stick it out though, because he still has hope for him.

Taste for the macabre

Whether it be killing innocents behind the back of his new master, decorating the castle with cobwebs and bones, or using his undead nature to scare and torture those around him, Igor certainly has an interesting idea of fun. Igor gets a sick enjoyment out of causing others distress and despises all things kind and cute, something which definitely frustrates Duckula, who's desperately trying to fix his own image.

Bitter Traditionalist

Having lived through the centuries in castle Duckula, Igor has gained an appreciation for the history of the place and the vampire ducks that have resided there over the years. He’s rather invested in the lives of his previous masters and is extremely cross with the newest incarnation for not only not caring about that past, but also completely disowning it. Igor tries desperately to get Duckula to be a normal vampire, truly believing it could work with enough effort. Less he spend the next few centuries with a vegetarian for a master… Igor would not have a problem with Duckula pursuing fame if it weren't for the fact that he thinks it's distracting him from true vampirism.

Tired old man

Igor has lived for many centuries and he does not feel as if he should have to babysit for an immature man child like Duckula. He would rather ignore or snark the young count rather than actually talk to him. When the two argue its a constant back and forth of passive aggression and personal jobs that they almost always forget what they're actually arguing over. Duckula is physically and mentally very young (17-early 20s) compared to Igor’s other masters due to the botched revival and he doesn't know how to, or want to, deal with it.

Nanny!

What I Wanted to Change

I’m sorry to any hardcore Nanny fans out there but this is practically a whole new character. I find Nanny to be frustrating and annoying in the original and who I personally feel is a very sexist and mean spirited character. There’s absolutely nothing I would want to write with a character who’s just “big stupid fat woman inconveniences everyone around her” it’s just uncomfortable after a certain point.

My idea for a new take was just an extremely kind older woman who’s a little airheaded but is a lot smarter than people give her credit for. This sets her up as a foil to Igor. She’s also the only non-monster resident of the castle in this version which I personally think is really interesting.

Character Traits

Only good influence

While Igor actively sets out to make Duckula a bad person and Towser couldn't care less about how Duckula acts, Nanny is the only direct influence in Duckula’s life who pushes him to do better. Nanny believes Duckula is a good person at heart and pushes him to take more responsibility in his life. She wants him to learn a good work ethic and is fully supportive of him trying to better himself.

Good Christian Woman

Nanny is, in fact, a christian. She is fully aware of the demonic nature of her companions but believes that everyone can better themselves no matter their circumstances and attempts to better those around her. Igor hates her for it but she’s totally ignorant to that fact.

Assertive Mother Figure

Though Nanny is a very kind woman, she is also not a pushover. She will assert authority over Duckula and anyone else if necessary, and most are compliant once she puts her foot down, if they aren't, however, Nanny does pack a punch and won't hesitate to use her strength to protect her family.

Smarter than she seems

Nanny is an airheaded optimist with a big heart and those traits make her come off a lot more clueless than she actually is. She may seem like she has no idea what’s going on but she’s actually very observant and is fantastic at assessing a situation and finding the best course of action.

Dr. Von Goosewing

What I Wanted to Change

I really liked the idea of the antagonist to Duckula was in a liniage of vampire slayers and that their ancestors have been fighting for generations. It gave me the perfect set up for a ✨SHADOW ANTAGONIST✨ I wanted to make this rewrite have the two reflect each other a lot more. To do that I wanted Goosewing to still be a really cooky guy but I didn’t want the public to know that.

Also I have no idea why he’s dressed like Sherlock Holmes in the original if he’s a Van Helsing parody and also an inventor. You could’ve leaned into either of those ideas but for some reason he’s dressed like a detective? so I tried giving him a more fitting outfit but keeping his colours for recognisablity.

Character Traits

Playing Village hero

Goosewing is considered a big deal in town because of his family of vampire hunters. He’s prepared his whole life to kill Count Duckula the moment he comes back and to protect the common folk from the paranormal. Despite this, Goosewing isn't actually particularly skilled at his job and usually ends up failing his assassinations due to his own incompetence. He feels like he has to play the role as a hero to continue his family’s legacy despite not particularly enjoying it or being good at it.

Overestimating the enemy

With how cunning and malevolent the past Duckula incarnations were, Goosewing expects the same from this one. Goosewing believes that Duckula is a dangerous and clever foe completely focused on causing others pain. In reality, Duckula is the most incompetent bird in all of Transylvania, aside fromGoosewing himself, of course. Goosewing also comes to believe that Duckula is only acting nice to later betray the public, a belief he is not quiet about and that keeps the public from trusting Duckula.

Mad Scientist

Goosewing definitely falls into the eccentric scientist trope with his innovative but scatterbrained nature. He would much rather be working on an invention than actually doing his job. The public sees him as a hero but while hunting vampires or when hes alone he comes off as more of a mad scientist than the hero character he plays. His intentions are ultimately good but are completely based on the assumption that he’s the wholly good protector of the people and that Duckula is a cunning villain who's out to get him and everyone else.

Shadow

Goosewing and Duckula reflect each other in a lot of ways. They both have a legacy they are expected to uphold despite not wanting to or even being able to, they both care deeply about the public’s opinion on them while the public has an incredibly incorrect view of the both of them, and they both have creative interests outside of the roles expected of them that they'd rather be persuing. Duckula fully rejects anything to do with his ancestry, while Goosewing is actively trying to fulfil despite not enjoying it.

The Murder Brothers!

What I Wanted to Change

Haha I called them the murder brothers bc they’re crows and criminals Im actually so funny… anyway. I don’t know if I should’ve even done these guys but I really like them as antagonists so!!

I gave the younger two names and a personality. The wiki said they didn’t have names but if they do lmk and I’ll just fix that. Other than that I didn’t change much except try to give ‘em a bit more depth and changing their physical designs a ton for fun.

Character Traits

The Murder Brothers, as a whole, are a tight knit family of con men crows who pull any grift they can to get their hands on some cash. Though they may act like their only loyalty in life is to money, they do genuinely care about each other's well being

Ruffles

Ruffles is the short tempered and eldest leader of the group. He’s constantly frustrated with his brothers’ incompetence and isn't quiet about it. He believes that if it weren't for them he'd probably be a lot further in life by now (which isn't true) and he’ll say he doesn't care about them, but he actually does.

Burt

If he didn't insist on helping his brothers, Burt would be the most likely to be living an honest life. As the second oldest sibling, Burt holds a position as right hand man. He’s a naturally kind and enthusiastic bird who, while a bit dumb, does openly express his love for his brothers. He takes on a lot of the abuse from his older brother and is often used by the group to talk to others, because he's so naturally trustworthy.

Reggie

Reggie is the second youngest of the brothers and the most relaxed out of all of them. He has an impeccable sleight of hand and is the go to for lockpicking and such. He’s a decent smooth talker and is often the one to break up fights, though he's not above getting angry at the others himself.

Leroy

Leroy is the youngest of the brothers and by far the least skilled. His speech is incomprehensible from under his mask (although he can see through it for the most part) and he’s often left with the worst jobs during their cons because of that. He’s the most timid out of all of them but I’m sure if you took that mask off of him he’d be really talkative.

—————————————————

Ending Words

Well that’s all I got! I spent way too long on this project that maybe two people will care about and one of them is me 💔 Anyway if I make anything else for this rewrite/au I’ll tag it with #wbcd . I wouldn’t count on it because I mighttt get burn out from this but im just so glad I finished it! I’ve thought about writing a pilot script just for fun but idk. I’d like to do more long format au stuff, I was going to make a YouTube video about this but I almost cried trying to record myself so I gave up 💔

[strawberrynightmere]

Hi! Can I make a request? I simply loved the fanfic you made of Andrew and Ashley as cats! I think it would be very comical to live with these two as cats, can I ask you for a sequel? Like with Andrew suffering from love for the reader and also with his yandere tendencies to keep every man away from the reader?

Ask and you shall receive.

Also, I appreciate that there are people interested my work

Bad Cats!!! [Part 2]

Warning ⚠️ : yandere tendencies and such, reader has bad memory i guess, I don't know how to put up warnings, so read at your own risk

A/n: Sorry, it wasn't exactly what you expected it to be.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Finishing the project that your incompetent boss pushed onto you, press save and close your work laptop, and you stretch to relive your aching muscles.

"Meow!" Oops. You accidentally woke up Andrew, but he didn't jump off your lap like any normal cat. He just continued cuddling up to you. Andrew was not a normal cat, personality-wise. Where Ashley was the classic feral street cat that turned into those stereotypical house cats.

Lately, you've been having a reoccurring dream about being in an embrace of a guy with black hair and green eyes whispering something that you can't really remember. Something about him felt familiar, but you couldn't really figure out what.

When you told Nina about this, the only thing she said was; "He sounds hot. Maybe that's your soulmate." Why you still confide in her is a whole other mystery. However, when you told Julia about your reoccurring dream, she said, "It's weird that you remember it in detail." And that's true, you don't remember most of your dreams, but when you do, it's always blurry.

Well, whatever. you have chores to do, and you can't procrastinate. Carefully taking Andrew off of your lap and got to work. Funny enough, neither Ashley nor Andrew reacted to the vacuum. They just left the room.

Those two are such strange cats.

Once you finished the chores, you were about to make dinner, but it seemed that you were missing a few ingredients, which was weird because you were sure there was enough from yesterday.

Oh, well. It's time to buy more. Before you head out the door, you announce to the cats that you'll be out for a bit. You lock the door and leave to the supermarket.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Now, it was just Andrew and Ashley left there. Neither of them changed from their cat forms, but you could see the look Andrew was giving Ashley.

"What?" She asked, there was no answer. "If she didn't want anyone to eat it, she should've put a sign or something."

"She already thinks we're strange. She doesn't need to know that one of us turns human just to raid her fridge while she's sleeping." Andrew decided to break his judgmental silence, and that was pretty hypocritical of him considering what he dose.

Ashley rolled her eyes at her brother. She didn't find this to be a big deal. Besides, you weren't suspicious of anything. But it seemed that that wasn't the reason for his grumpy attitude.

And Ashley noticed that.

"Listen, if you're still hung up on the fact that she might find someone and metaphorically ride into the sunset with them. Why don't you just... "Tie her down to you."...?" Andrew continued to stare at her blankly.

That was kind of irritating her.

"God! Do I have to spell it out for you? Get. Her. Pregnant!"

Andrew was shocked, to say the least.

Ashley decides to defend her answer. "I mean, if you don't want those hussies taking her, that is."

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

That was a stupid idea, Andrew shook his head and left. Ashley rolled her eyes again at his "dramatic" behavior.

What kind of situation would he be put in to make that kind of decision?

It was a crazy idea.

He's better than that.

Is he, though?

A/n: I could've done better than that, but I hope you enjoyed it.

[shadows-writing-lounge]

Content: General Horny headcanons. Ganondorf calculations. General Ganondorf .

Kinks and activities mentioned: Size kink, fingering(Ambiguous)

Ganondorf only for now(I was tempted to put stuff for Ganon, phantom Ganondorf and Demise).

Reader: This post his general, gender neutral, without mentions of genitalia. Butt stuff fair game. Reader is refered to as smaller than Ganondorf because no matter the iteration he's at least 7'6" feet<228.6 cm> (Oot source Hyrule Historia) and they keep making him bigger. (Gamespot pixel counted and said Totk Ganondorf is about 10 feet <305cm>) you/your

Pussy having reader version

Dick having reader version

More of this

General Headcanons

Ganondorf's goods

Balls are also heavy. They really fill your palm. I see people use breeder balls very often but I think it's an apt description of these boys.

As we all know he's big. Big in every aspect. I don't like to designate specific sizes or details for self projection sake but for the people that asked I'll attempt to describe it for y'all. Despite what people think height doesn't equal bigger dick but ignore this because he a big boy anyway. After some tasteful research. Which means I looked at studies of hand to penile length calculations, looked up some fan estimates he's at least 22.9cm <9 inches> though I'd personally say bigger. Girth could also be wild but I will limit it to 17.78 cm <7 inches> in max because the human anus can stretch to 17.78 cm <7-7.5 inches> if you're into that feel free to go bigger. It's hefty. Hangs down when erect.

Ganondorf carries more that one great sword 👍 (watch me edit this out at a later date)

Cum wise I imagine him with a thicker consistency. Opaque. Slightly salty. He has no preference where he cums so if you do be sure to tell him.

Ganondorf is a king who takes self maintenance serious. Literally never looks bad or ungroomed. Though I believe there wouldn't be time to shave. He is clean and would most likely trim beforehand if he thinks he'll initiate intercourse.

Muscle lovers are feasting good. Nice ass and thighs with every iteration. Torso changes but I think all of them are pretty good.

Ganondorf is not that vocal during the act. Usually only responding when talked to or the need arises. Confirmation of continued consent or if something is working etcetera.

Ganondorf's kinks

I will say his kinks probably change depending one which iteration you're looking at though some are shared. I'd peg Ganondorf as uncaring of his partner's sex.

-Size kink(all) is an obvious one. He's so much bigger sometimes he doesn't even need to undress to overwhelm his lover as they struggle to take his fingers. Though he also enjoys the reverse of his smaller partner taking control. Just don't instigate a coup on your self.

-Going along with size kink Ganondorf likes to Manhandle. Holding his partner in the air, holding them down and moving them mid bang and some iterations are into being a little rough physically.

-Praise kink both receiving and giving. (All) Oot Ganondorf sometimes leans into the mocking variety. Warriors very sparingly praises but always means it.

-Degradation kink giving only.(OoT, TP, ToTK) Twilight Princess is that classy degradation. Wind Waker would attempt but wouldn't be able to do it long as he feels it's dehumanizing. All you'd really get is the rare times when he's outraged.

OoT makes me think he'd be into Dacryphilia.(ToTK as well but lesser)

Roleplay involving power imbalance. OoT only if he's the higher power, HW he'll humor being the lower power, TP occasionally either or.

ToTK generally refuses to give up power unless you offer in a specific way. Such as it being akin to worship or that he's so powerful he doesn't even bother to give an effort. Stroke both is dick and his ego. Predator/Prey is the only exception you can't convince him to act prey like.

Exhibitionism. Even if an iteration doesn't care for others seeing their partner naked. He is a possessive and jealous man. He revels in showing off what's his and other's knowing they're off limits. If he has access to a throne...

Body worship. Both receiving and giving. He enjoys letting his partner know how much he desires them and vice versa.

Note: I'm not really into Degradation, Daceyphilia, so I can really get into depth as I would like. If you have ideas feel free to send it in. For educational purposes of course.

Reader Insert Headcanons

Regardless of how much you weigh or how big you are. He'd be able to pick you up. He likes letting you know this. So malleable small in his grasp. Sometimes his hand makes it's way around your neck. Not tightly but the warmth makes it clear it's there and how much only one hand wraps around you.

He's patient taking his time, relishing it it even, working you open. OoT and ToTk will more inclined to edge you until he can fully slip in. If you voice annoyance he'll do the opposite overstimulating you until he's satisfied.

Very encouraging of you to make noise. Perhaps say how well he's doing. WW is basically the only iteration who's not overly teasing.

Sessions where Ganondorf's focuses solely on you are mostly non penetrative.(unless you request) Outercourse, and intercrural being the focus.

Adding on to that he finds hit very endearing and cute if during a thigh job his tip peeks out the other side. Those he'd praise you if your thighs cover all of him.

Feel free to ride his thighs to completion. He'll let you go unless you ask for his touch. He doesn't hesitate to join fondling and presses kisses where he can reach without disrupting your ministrations. He waits until either you cum or plea for him to help release your buildup.

Couple things for Anorgasmia

Whether it's just difficult or complete lack Ganondorf doesn't mind if you can't come. If it's difficult but possible and you want to climax, he'll have you guide him. Telling him how and we're to touch to force out that climax.

Otherwise he relies on you informing him of he's doing something that's uncomfortable or painful.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for doing fewer chores around the house because I'm not around very much?

I (23m) live with 2 other housemates (W 23M, and S 23M). We've known eachother for 4+ years now, and lived together on and off for about 3. Me and S are in college, and W has graduated and is working in the area.

The problem is, S doesn't really pull his weight in the chores department despite having objectively the most free time out of the 3 of us. He almost never does dishes, takes out the trash, or contributes to cleaning shared spaces without being explicitly prompted/helped. This was less of and issue in previous years living together because W and I had more free time/were around the house more, so we didn't have problems picking up the slack like we do now.

W works a full time job, and has an hour commute both ways so he isn't around much on weekdays, and tends to spend a lot of time with his gf on weekends. I work 2 student jobs on top of a full class load and only tend to be around the house to sleep on weeknights, and work ~8hrs a day on weekends. S is taking about half the credits of a full time student, and does not work.

W and I still manage to get "our" share of chores done (i.e washing the dishes we generate, taking out trash, some general cleaning) but neither of us are around/able to do this on most weeknights. S will leave dirty dishes in the sink/on the dining table after eating, and rarely if ever loads/unloads the dishwasher. This has become very evident now that neither me and W aren't around much, becuase the sink will be entirely full of dirty dishes despite both of us hand washing or immediately loading the dishes we use in the dishwasher.

Now that there's the context, AITA for entirely stopping picking up after S/doing any extra chores? I have been spending under 6 hours a day in the house for the last few weeks due to midterms, and have been eating all of my meals at work/on campus so I haven't been adding to dishes/general mess around the house. I could tell it was getting messy but i was trying to catch as much sleep as possible and could honestly say none of the mess was mine. I warned both of them that I'd be really busy/mostly gone for the next month between projects and midterms, and specifically brought up that I wouldn't be able to help out as much.

W was really understanding and said that was fine, S just said "cool". In this period, W started spending a lot more time at his GFs place because the mess was pretty bad and he didn't have the time to take care of everything alone. Je told S he would be spending less time around the house and again, S was fine w it. We both hoped S would step up and keep the space clean because we've frequently talked and seemingly agreed about the standards we'd like for the house.

I bumped into S on my way to bed last night, and he started complaining about how messy the house is and that me and W haven't been doing anything to help. I pointed out that neither of us have been around recently and that it's 99% his mess, and that he's a big boy with free time and can take care of it himself. He said that "you and W could have at least just asked and I'd do it" and said that I was being really passive aggressive about it. I just said "dude I'm going to bed, I'll clean what's mine tomorrow" and left it at that. I did a super light cursory cleaning of a few things, but left all the dishes/messier spaces alone because it wasn't my doing.

I feel like TA because I did/have been purposely doing less around the house but I'm sick of cleaning up after S. W doesn't really want to get involved because he isn't a fan of conflict and is able to basically live with his gf, but I did let him know this happened and he doesn't think I've done anything wrong, though I could have been a little nicer to S. So wise and powerful Tumblr, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[laylajeffany]

Intentions are Everything  |  Chaos Universe OneShot for @fridayd13th

Summary: Wednesday and Enid (age 22) reconnect on a rainy night after routine and the season of life they are in keep them apart. WC: 4k exactly (welcome to layla's <5k challenge) Rated: T (I’m at work it would absolutely end best in sex but a Clifford the Big Red Dog stuffie is looking at me in my supply closet and I feel judged.)

Note: As I’m experimenting with some new writing rules for myself to set myself to different standards and expectations for future projects (not even fanfiction); I’m weaponizing my competence and refusing to use my available contract hours assisting others who do not have withitness and follow-through. When I’m at work and not with the children on a break per required of my union contract, I’m locking myself in my supply closet to write! I'm too efficient! Everything is done through April! However, it’s simply not the correct setting to be working on my multi-chapter work; I need at least two hours at a time for that. These one-shots have to be prompted by someone else (I can’t have stewing on the content), under 5K, and I’m not allowed to work on them at home. I'll probably upload these to AO3 once I have a few of them complete.

The prompt "Wenclair/Domestic/Chaos Universe/Rainy Day" was from @fridayd13th - thank you so much for everything you’ve done to support my writing over the last year, and all the other fanfic authors you have impacted by your sharing, comments, and kindness. Thank you! & a Black Menagerie update is in the editing phase and will be up tomorrow sometime!

X

It wasn’t supposed to rain.

And not just because she already had outdoor plans, but there hadn’t been a drop forecasted (Wednesday had been checking obsessively). If there was a way to light the sky on fire, she surely would have…only to have that flame extinguished, immediately – like her carefully structured night out.

That was dramatic. (Wasn’t she always? And to think, Enid was the one at the theater that evening.) With a silent pivot, Wednesday adjusted course without hesitating, not wanting to waste a moment, even if it included one of the heaviest sighs she’d ever released. She couldn’t be taken down by reanimated corpses of bigots, genocidal maniacs, werewolf councils, Hydes, or the weather.

Life had gotten between herself and her fiancée over the last few months, and as she managed to be surprised by a late April rain, it showed. Between her endless lectures, bookwork, and mock trials, Network meetings and Enid’s grueling six-day-a-week performance schedule that only had her off on Mondays (Wednesday’s latest day at law school, naturally), their time together that didn’t involve one of them working on something was rare and precious. After a heated argument the week before, ended by the redhead who lived in the basement unit of their townhouse, Wednesday had stormed off to New Jersey. A train ride and taxi to her family’s home had her barreling into her mother’s study wet (it had been raining then too), upset, and in the foulest of moods.

It had taken Morticia quite some time to put together the fractured pieces of information her daughter was revealing and advise the same thing that the other wise woman in her life already had; Enid and Wednesday just needed to spend meaningful time together. When all of their hours in one another’s space were domestic routines and transitional time trying to catch each other up on the latest without being part of it, they were bound to spat.

Enid had been more than a little bit upset that Wednesday’s solution to their problem was running away and had hotly asked for the night apart when Morticia said that she thought it would be more practical for Lurch to drop her off than deal with the train again. At the notion of spending the night alone in her parents’ house settled in, Wednesday had a meltdown the likes of which they hadn’t seen from her in years. Morticia had slept with her when she finally convinced her to at least lay down, likely in fear that she was going to slip into a meditation and wind up in the wrong side of the ether because of her twisted energy.

The next morning, she’d had a long and overdue chat about romance with both her parents. They spoke from the heart – it was mushy and disgusting. Their own experiences made her want to bury her head in the sand. Yet - Wednesday had desperately needed to hear it. She and Enid were a far cry from the two of them. Though she might’ve possessed some Gomez-like traits every now and again, Wednesday was her own, unique breed and would love her own way, too. But, to her chagrin, hearing their perspective did help – and it put her plan into motion.

Enid wasn’t home when Wednesday arrived – she had a matinee that afternoon and then an evening show as well. With all her focus, Wednesday tidied up their apartment not only in proper order, but also made sure she’d put Enid’s favorite sheets on the bed, started the incense she liked the best, and ordered all her prized snacks for the week when she had groceries delivered. After a long talk with the couple downstairs, about recovering from a blow-out (they were more than familiar with that topic), Wednesday also committed herself to certain actions for the week ahead.

Unfortunately – the experimental medication she was on, after the sleepless night before, forced her to fall asleep when she laid in bed, trying to write a formal apology to her fiancée – afraid of forgetting something if she just tried to speak it all. It would still be from the heart, but scripted so she made sure to make every point.

That was how Enid woke her up with sweet, gentle kisses when she’d gotten home from her show, close to eleven. She had a fresh release of tears, and Wednesday’s notebook in her hand, stroking her cheeks and promising – she was forgiven, and that she was also sorry, for how she’d responded and reacted to everything.

In her grogginess, Wednesday made a promise – that she was going to give Enid a real date; she was going to honor her with something special, not routine, not a drive-by conversation. She wanted to give her a night that Enid could treasure.

And so, with two hours until her show released that Friday, Wednesday cooked, baked, transformed the attic space and prepared the environment with all the heart and ambiance-creating ability she had.

Locating her umbrella and stepping into black Wellies, she took the pink ones by the door into her hands and a jacket when she realized the temperature dipped as well. With a black and white striped snake over her shoulders tucked into her collar to stay dry, she made the familiar trek out of their Upper West Side apartment to Midtown – a journey she used to take when she was committed to making it to Enid’s show at least once a week.

How quickly things changed when novelty wore off. She hadn’t been to the theater in at last four months, she realized – vowing to change that, too.

One metro ride and a few blocks walked in the rain later, she stood outside the theater door, grateful the rain would keep most of the obsessive, obnoxious out-of-towners from lining up for autographs. Her snake poked his head out curiously when the door opened a few times, hoping for Enid, but it was always orchestra first, Wednesday reminded Augustus softly.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long. Only three other cast members groaned at the rain before heading out themselves before Enid let out a full whine upon opening the door, then a completely delighted gasp. “Wednesday! Ohemgee, you did not have to come all the way here!”

“I didn’t want you caught in this beautiful weather without proper gear,” She said, passing Enid’s rainboots to her. She let out an excited squeak of appreciation, dipping back in and swapping her shoes, then accepting the rain jacket before positioning herself under Wednesday’s umbrella, wrapping an arm around her waist. Holding the handle and depositing a kiss to her lips, ignoring how she still had on her stage makeup and dreadful, bright red lipstick that probably transferred, Wednesday clarified, “There is an obvious change in plans from our rooftop dining experience in Brooklyn. But our evening is not ruined, simply altered.”

“Awe, well – that’s so sweet. I didn’t even know it had started to rain! I’m glad I don’t have to be super bummed out, either. Thanks for taking care of everything! Hey – how was the exam?”

“Grueling. Torture. It took me every available moment to finish. Naturally, I scored a hundred four,” Wednesday said with a little smirk as the sky emptied itself onto the city, hard raindrops rattling the waterproof covering above them as they moved to the subway station. “And the show?”

“The usual,” Enid shrugged. “Friday night crowds are notoriously off – though this one wasn’t so bad. I don’t know. It’s been almost seven months now – there’s rumblings about auditions the Crazy for You revival moving to the US, I’d for sure be auditioning for that – this role has me feeling a little...locked in. I’m not, like, over it – but I’d be up for something different.”

“Insert here a cheesy line about being crazy for you in any show you’re billed in. I also recognized on my way here – I haven’t come out to watch in so long. I’m genuinely sorry for the pacing of our time together and the inadequacies I’ve brought, Enid.”

“Oh, you do not need to apologize for that, Wednesday! This is my job, as much as it’s art. It’s not like I’m going to catch you in the courtroom on any kind of regular basis – that’d probably be sups inappropriate. Well – we know in the future that I’ll see you in the Supreme Court – but that’s like, you coming to opening night of me as a leading lady. It’s different. I don’t expect my partner at a weekly curtain call.”

“Still,” She said as they waited on the platform after taking the slippery stairs down, keeping her umbrella folded low to drip onto the already sopping tile, “I do like watching you perform. Even if this isn’t my favorite show – I’d like to see you soon. I’ll leave father and Em behind, though.”

Enid giggled. “I don’t mind their…enthusiastic reception to my stage presence,” Enid found careful words as the train arrived – packed, of course, for a Friday night on the 1 in Midtown. Finding a place to stand where they wouldn’t be absorbing too much liquid from others who’d been caught in the rainstorm unprepared, they took the short ride back uptown, making it home just as another couple was about to enter their shared foyer.

Emiliana and Josie were soaked to the bone, obviously caught in the storm, and in Emiliana’s case – thrilled about it. Josie looked a little less than enthusiastic and both Wednesday and Enid backed away when her wife tried to embrace them. “It’s their date night, too – leave them alone,” Josie warned, tugging her back by the shoulders with a sigh.

“Well, I do not think they are going to be dining on roofs, bien-aimée!” Emiliana argued, about to go in again when Josie popped the lock on the lower-level unit with a groan, wishing the girls a good night – whatever they ended up doing, before ushering Emiliana downstairs while she spoke rapidly in French about which movie she wanted to watch and why would she need a shower, she was already wet?

Unable to hide her smirk, Wednesday took off her boots, setting them on a rug while Enid popped the umbrella open to dry off (chancing her luck) and shrugged out of her coat, hanging both damp garments on a hook before locking the main door, then opening their own when they entered the kitchen.

Enid’s enhanced smell must’ve picked up right away what Wednesday had baked for her. She looked at her with a little gasp, a near twinkle in her eye. “You didn’t? You did! Oh, Wednesday!”

“Snickerdoodles are upstairs already,” She said quietly – hating the way that ridiculous word rolled off her tongue; but if they were Enid’s favorite, easy-to-prepare desert – of course. “As is everything else that I could prepare in advance, there are a few things I need to finish now. Everything you need for your favorite bath is out and ready for you.”

“Awe, not possible,” Enid said with a little pout. Wednesday crossed her arms, suspicious about that – Enid’s preferences had hardly changed since she was seventeen and they first started their innocent soaks together. “You won’t be in it!”

Almost snorting, she rolled her eyes and kissed Enid’s cheek. “I cannot be two places at once. Yet. I’m still working on that spell. Go on – I’ll meet you upstairs in thirty minutes.”

“Alright. Thank you, Wednesday.” She returned the sweet little kiss before shaking her head and planting a long one on her lips, despite the lipstick. Wednesday refused to cringe, merely returned it before Enid pulled away with a laugh, wiping the red off her with her thumb. “I frickin’ love you.” With that she winked and headed up the stairs of the narrow unit.

Putting the rest of her plan into motion, Wednesday poured her attention into finishing the meal that she’d started, heading up to the attic to light the candles with a wave of her hand to complete the ambiance she’d started to set up.

Bringing up the last of the food on a butler’s tray she’d stolen from home ages before, Wednesday glanced at the time, hearing the sound of a drain circling. Taking her place up near the small, circular window that was pattered in rain. She lifted the bow of her cello, starting to play a melody of their favorite songs.

Enid took a familiar place on the bench in front of the window, watching Wednesday with a look of love she could see out of the corner of her eye. Her snake traveled from Wednesday’s neck to Enid’s pink, loungewear covered shoulders, licking her cheek, making her smile.

Finally finishing, she stood up, taking Enid’s hands, kissing her fingers before tucking her at the low table of the attic in front of the futon. Plating her a favorite rare beef dish, Wednesday started the small record player on an entertainment unit before taking a seat beside her.

They ate with comfortable conversation flowing – Enid brought up the show she was interested in again, Wednesday asked her to describe the plot – and stared at her with hearts in her eyes as she animatedly detailed the storyline and the roles she’d want to play within it. As she stacked the dirty dishes, moving the tray to the stairs, Wednesday put the cookies on the table, then flushed a little as she began to remove materials out of a basket. Giving a shrug, she hoped that she was matching the energy the moment called for as she explained, “We were going to go to that gallery…but – I…maybe you want to make something to add to ours up here?”

She gestured to the various crafts that Enid had hung up above the futon – a few embroidery pieces she’d experimented with, paintings, collages…

Enid nodded brightly. “I’d love to make something with you.”

The next forty minutes were spent painting on a canvas, the two working together to come up with an inspired design – an interpretation of their snake in the springtime – Augustus looking at it and offering his feedback, requesting more pale pink cherry blossom petals all around him.

As they finished, Wednesday took the dirty brushes and palette along with the dishes, hurrying them down to the sink before returning with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Enid had moved to the cushions, her expression of dopy desire a bit contagious as Wednesday poured her a glass and took a seat. She indicated her own intentions by sitting as close to fiancée as possible, a stacking her legs on top of Enid’s thighs as she twisted into the corner of the couch – just a touch obnoxiously. Enid giggled before taking a sip, drawing an arm just above her knees. She pressed a kiss to Wednesday’s lips, letting out a sigh. “You probably feel like the need to reconcile was largely on you, given how you ran…but it wasn’t, Wednesday. I’ve been just as distracted, and every bit as much to blame for us not spending the time we need together, too.”

Augustus appeared from her collar again and Wednesday smiled at the snake with the gentle sort of parent-like love she’d had for him since the start. “Hey, buddy…do you think you could take yourself to your enclosure for a little while? There’ll be a pinky for you in the morning.”

He let out a small hiss and twisted down her arm, leaving the two in full privacy. Wednesday had another long drink of wine and made a hopeful suggestion. “I have two more exams next week, but then the summer term doesn’t begin until mid-May. Is there any time over the next few weeks that you’d be able to get away from the show for a few days?”

Enid laughed. “I haven’t used an understudy yet! Our swings would be thrilled – I’m sure I could take some time, for us.”

The way she said it made Wednesday chug the rest of the wine in her glass before taking Enid’s from her, sweetly, and placing both on the table. She adjusted her position, sitting fully on her lap. Enid’s arms fell around her waist, pulling her close for a kiss. Wednesday sighed into it, lazily dropping her arms around her shoulders, drawing herself closer, chests touching – even if they were just in comfortable sweatshirts – she loved the feeling. Enid let out a little sound of contentment as her tongue dipped into her mouth, pushing them even closer.

Enid pulled away with a sudden gasp – their teeth almost colliding as a bolt of lightning and crackle of thunder turned the nighttime rain shower into a thunderstorm. She giggled and groaned, sighing into Wednesday’s shoulder as Wednesday felt her heartrate skyrocket and decrease. Tangling her fingers into Enid’s hair, Wednesday just held her close, there, resting her head just on top of hers. “I love you,” She muttered quietly. “I’m really glad we spent tonight together, not just in routine, even if it wasn’t what we planned.”

“Me too,” Enid squeezed her middle, looking up with a sweet gaze. “I love you. I can’t believe how we let time get away from us. Hey – let me send a quick text to let my manager know I’m going to be out of the show – then I’m getting my laptop and my planner – we are so booking a trip for after your exams!”

Letting her go – even if she might’ve rather extended that time together physically, Wednesday figured she could get her fiancée all worked up and excited about time off together and then spend the time together in bed. Enid returned just moments later, her fingers flying across her keyboard as she gave herself a week off without asking – but expecting. Loving that for her self-confidence, Wednesday stretched out on the futon while she started to ramble excitedly, opening a glittery pink date book, actually blathering about what to fill in it. Her excited ramble went on for almost two straight minutes before she paused, mid-sentence, blushing as she glanced back at Wednesday. As she opened her mouth, Wednesday reminded her, “If you dare apologize for looking forward to spending time together…” She snapped her lips together and Wednesday smirked, putting her chin on Enid’s shoulder as she leaned over her. “There’s a full moon next week, too. We could maybe go somewhere that has a forest nearby if you’d like to wolf out. It’s been months, Enid. The Solstice was the last time…it just happened to be on a Monday, otherwise you probably would’ve taken your potion then, too.”

“You really want to spend time off chasing me through the trees?” Enid asked skeptically.

Dropping into a sit beside her, Wednesday took her hand into her own, letting her thumb rub a circle over the ring on her left. “I want to spend my time off with you. That’s all, Enid. I don’t care, particularly, what we do. I would like you to make sure you’re not disconnecting with the wolf part of you…we know the consequences of that. But if you don’t think you need to wolf out to stay connected, that’s fine, too.”

“Hm,” Enid laced the fingers that were playing with hers between them and kissed Wednesday’s cheek. “You know – we could really disconnect from the world, and only connect to each other – which always helps. Go to the Zypher property, be surrounded by mountains? We haven’t been in…what, two and a half years now?”

Liking the sound of that, Wednesday nuzzled her neck, also liking that it wouldn’t involve her traveling by plane, but the thought of being without running water and electricity for an entire week wasn’t quite what she wanted to deal with. Who would’ve thought – Wednesday Addams, a woman of the modern world?

“Or – we go to the Addams house in Jericho? We’d be able to bathe far more conveniently – but still have the woods.”

Enid chuckled into her lips with a kiss. “Fair, fair,” She spoke, pulling back. “Promise me you won’t get tangled up in a Network conspiracy while we’re there?”

With a single nod, Wednesday leaned in for another kiss. “I won’t even tell them we’re in town.”

“Well, that’s not nice. Aunt Larissa would ream you if we bumped into her at the store picking up stuff for dinner and hadn’t told her we were coming.”

“Grocery delivery,” Wednesday refuted.  Enid shot her a look. “We can have one dinner with them. One. I’m very serious. This is going to be our time, Enid. We…we need it. It’s going to be a long summer – I’m so close to done, and the last two semesters are going to be grueling. Remember, I will be hospitalized at some point because I’m going to be so in over my head and taking horrible care of myself and refusing to let you do it for me,” She sighed – wishing she’d never had that vision, years ago. “But until then – we have this time together. I want it to be meaningful – just us.” Thunder made the entire place rumble and Enid nodded, then let out a little sound of sympathy as a slithering snake hurried himself up the steps and into Wednesday’s lap, trembling. “It’s okay, buddy,” She whispered, kissing his cheek as she held him close, letting him circle back around her neck. “Well, just us and the boy.”

Enid acknowledged what she’d said before, “Meaningful. It sucks to think that a lot of the time we do have together isn’t meaningful – and I guess I didn’t really understand that until this all blew up,” She sighed. ���It’s hard to think that just because you spend every night sleeping next to the love of your life, it can get routine, so fast. I hate that. I don’t want that for us.” She thumbed her planner. “Do you think – we could pen in some more date nights? This was really nice. Not just dinner because we both happen to be home…which; has been rare for us – but intentional dates. I think we need to make sure we have at least one a month? Once a week would be better – but until you’re finished with school, I think we should be a little more realistic -”

Wednesday tilted her head in a bit of good news. “Actually, we can. Every Monday. My evening course was moved to Tuesdays and Thursdays for the summer class.”

Letting out a little gasp, Enid tossed her arms around her fiancée. “That’s amazing! OhEmGee, this is perfect! Hey – how about we put our first Monday after vacation at that Brooklynn rooftop and gallery, hm? I mean, truthfully – I think I preferred this, just us doing our own thing up here -”

“Then, let’s plan to do our own thing up here,” Wednesday argued gently. “Why go out and force ourselves to do something that neither of us really want to do? Just because it’s what is expected of a couple on a date? You know I would always rather be in with you. We can make it special, so long as we intend to.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Of course. I’ve long ago learned, intentions are everything, didn’t I? I suppose I just never applied it to our long-term romance.”

Enid kissed each cheek, then the tip of her nose. “I do believe I have some intentions for how I’d like to close out this night.”

Wednesday dropped her hands to her hips. “Hm. Funny, so did I. What if our intentions don’t align?”

She gave a playful growl, then nipped her lip playfully, making Wednesday close her eyes and give a little groan. “Yeah,” Enid pulled away, “I’m pretty sure – we both want the same thing. Come on. GusGus, bedtime, buddy. This date night continues for another hour!”

“Oh, that’s all?” Wednesday teased, earning a playful push as she smirked, fully intending on making meaning out of every moment of the rest of their night together.