#circus ruffle thing

[scottie-draws-sometimes]

I blacked out for a second and woke up to a filled page. Guess I’m not immune to the brainrot either. Anyways. The Amazing Digital Circus everyone *clapping noises*

[rainrot4me]

Don’t Close Your Eyes Yet

Summary: From the first moment he laid his eyes on you at the fairgrounds, Jack knew he needed you. So going about it the only way he knew how, he began to give you dreams of him, preparing you for the night he would eventually take you himself.

Characters: Laughing Jack x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Obsession, stalking, somnophilia, non-con, clawing, biting, size difference, vaginal, creampie, eating out, desperation, Jack doesn’t take no for an answer, dream manipulation, kidnapping, begging, Jack is very talkative

Words: 5.2k

A/N: Did I make LJ a yandere accidentally? Yes. Just roll with it lol

To him, he had never seen something more beautiful.

Flashing lights danced across your face, hair whipping as you skipped to the nearest ticket booth with your friends. Loud giggles echoed to his ears, making his painted lips curl into a blushing smile as he watched you become antsy with excitement.

Jack had been rummaging around these fairgrounds for a couple of days, scoping out potential victims coming in to enjoy the seasonal summer event, lurking behind food stalls and blending into the crowd. He was good at that: staying hidden until he wanted to be seen, practically going invisible until the time was right. Humans had such a hard time with noticing things, noticing him, so even standing amongst them, their eyes never glanced at his towering self. It just made it easier to slip kids away from their occupied families, dragging them away with the promise of a game or a prize to be won, only to become giddy with the panic that ensued afterwards, mothers and fathers losing their grip as they scoured for their already deceased child. The clown was here for the fifth night this week, the summer breeze ruffling his feathered costume as he scanned a large group of elementary schoolers rushing towards a ferris wheel, picking his target out of the litter and moving in.

Until he spotted you, elbows wrapped tight around another girl’s right behind the kids, eyes wide as you picked out which rides you wanted to try first. A couple more friends filed in behind you, obnoxiously loud as they tried to impress you, daring each other to try the more frightening ones. Jack grit his teeth, jagged pearls clenching as he rolls his eyes, scoffing at the irritable sound of desperation. Your group pushed passed him, not a single eye batting in his direction as he tried to press through you all, distance gaining between him and the small group of children making their way to another set of rides. He looked down, making sure to avoid bumping any of you as even the tallest of your friends barely reached his chest, his size overbearing as he brushed past you, barely catching your eyes as you stopped.

Jack hesitated, feet planted into the ground as he turned over his shoulder, stunned as your eyes locked with his. At first, he wasn’t sure if you were just looking through him, neck craned in some odd position at something behind his head. But as you smiled awkwardly, nodding your head as a silent hello, Jack froze, eyes wide. You could see him. Before it became awkward, Jack nodded back, watching as you turned back and continued with your friends, all of them completely unaware of the exchange that just took place. There was no fear in your gaze as you glanced back again, smiling sweetly before friends pushed you towards the ticket booth and out of the clown’s sight.

He stood stunned, not knowing what to do but knowing he couldn’t let you slip, couldn’t let you out of his sight. It had felt like ages since someone had noticed him, actually noticed him. He had always chosen when he wanted attention, letting his appearance become visible to onlookers who otherwise wouldn’t have felt his presence at all, giving them a jump of fear at his arrival. But you saw him anyway, despite his invisibility, despite his ability to blend. For some reason, you weren’t afraid of his chilling appearance, brushing him off as another circus carnie and being more polite to him than anyone ever cared. Over the last several years, it had been nothing but screams and pleas, all music to his ears, of course, but some desperate tug on his nonexistent heart jumped at the civility you showed him. He needed more.

Pressing into the shadows of a taller fair ride, Jack watched you closely, the corners of his mouth jumping to a smile every time yours did. The group of kids he was after was long forgotten, intentions focused on following you towards the merry-go-round that sat in the center of the fairgrounds. He quickly followed, slipping through the unattended gates easily and hopping on the ride with you, seated on a plastic horse several rows back. As the ride started up, happy music played loudly as you giggled and slowly teetered up and down, joking with your friends. Your hair danced beautifully in the wind, bright lights and colorful tones dancing in your eyes and across your cheeks, a way that only really Jack could appreciate. 

There was no clear reason as to why you were able to see him when others couldn’t, pushing past his invisibility and meeting his gaze, but he didn’t care. For the rest of the ride and the rest of your time on the grounds, Jack made sure not to catch your attention again, watching you carefully how you interacted, your sweetheart personality pulling him ever-near. He couldn’t stand it, couldn’t focus anywhere else as he watched your group grow tired and begin to head towards the exit, a boy’s arm falling lazily over your shoulders and tugging you into his truck. 

Jack didn’t care as he left groups of potential victims behind, silently following you into the parking lot and hiding in the dark spots that even you couldn’t see him. He didn’t care as he followed you home, abandoning all instincts and mind becoming fogged as he watched you crawl into bed from your window, heart skipping as you curled in. You would be his. You had to be. You didn’t have a choice.

-

You had been unnerved for weeks.

It wasn’t anything serious. No traumatic experience or humiliating incident that kept you up into the late hours of the night, like most girls your age would’ve been. Maybe having to worry about what clothes you were going to wear the next day or who liked you at work would’ve been a much better thing to stay up and think about. No, it was something much more unenjoyable.

These dreams, wild and constant, happen every night at the same time. They would all start the same, you climbing into bed comfortably and snuggling in after a long day, desperate for a relaxing slumber. But then you would doze, senses leaving you in the darkness of your room, almost on the verge of slipping… and then you would hear it. The quiet, subtle echo of carnival music, almost like a music box was winding near your bed. You knew you were asleep, consciousness floating in that weird in-between, but you were somehow still fully aware, still active in your brain even though your body wasn’t. The first time it had happened, you were afraid, and confused if you were experiencing some weird lucid dream or having a seizure, but then it happened again the next night and the next.

After the music wound for what felt like forever, the same merry tune looping in your head, you would eventually see it, the tall figure. He would stay back in the haziness of your mind, in the shadows your brain couldn’t see, but you already knew who it was. 

The clown from the fair, smiling sweetly at you, stark-white face contrasted against the darkness of your dream. He was tall, like had to bend halfway down to reach your eye level tall, his limbs lengthy in comparison. He wore the same costume he did the first night you saw him, black and white striped and decorated with a feathered collar, like a sad recreation of a children’s entertainment piece. You didn’t know why you were seeing him, or why your brain was so focused on him, but it wasn’t like you could do anything to stop it.

The first couple of times, he just stayed at a distance, watching silently as you questioned him, trying to press towards him until you were abruptly awoken and left confused. Eventually, he started getting closer, refusing to speak but at least coming into clear focus, letting you see his painted face and chilling demeanor up close. But the more you talked, the more you questioned why he was here and why you were seeing him, the more eager he got.

The dreams started getting longer, more intense on your physical as you slept, constantly waking covered in sweat. The clown's hands began to roam, your body immovable against his curious claws as he rubbed and poked you all over, smiling at the reactions that came. They were sweet at first, tucking your hair behind your ear or caressing your small hands, but they soon became feisty. The touches grew to rubs, pressing his arms around your smaller body and pushing against your skin, gripping at your clothes and tugging them away, claws so realistically scratching against your warmth. With each dream, the intensity grew, your body waking up in a horny panic to settle itself out, panting against your pillow and trying to recollect yourself. It was boggling, so confused and pent up that you couldn’t do anything but fall right back to sleep, starting the cycle all over again.

Jack watched through every night. He perched in the corner of your room, lips curling to a smile with every flinch and tug of your body as he manipulated your dreams, making you see and feel what he wanted you to. He never let you see him, disappearing into the night whenever you would wake, but always arriving the next night to watch you again. It was his favorite, the little noises that squirmed from your lips when he would press his claws between your legs in your dream, making your thighs press together on your bed. He loved it, he loved you. But, he was becoming impatient, not satisfied with just having you in your mind anymore. He had coaxed you enough, driving you to expect him now, mind already conditioned to his looks and his touch; you would be familiar now. Your body would accept him now, even if your mind didn’t.

-

Pressed in the same corner as always, he was twisting your latest dream, giving you the wonderful experience of him licking against your neck, rubbing you through your panties as you wined and thrashed on your bed. Jack snickered, long arms crossed and claws digging into his clothes as he watched, licking his spikey teeth as you arched your back. 

He had decided tonight would be it, the first time you would see him outside of your slumber. Regardless if you were ready or not, he was, and he didn’t know if he could wait much longer to get his claws around you. The clown spent the better part of the day watching you, thinking about you, obsessing over your sickly sweet self. You were perfect, a complete contrast to him, but fitting his needs perfectly. 

When you suddenly rolled to your side, curling into yourself as you panted, cheeks flushed and dark as you whined, Jack’s attention came back. The darkness of your room was lit nicely by a small nightlight, the little sun and moon design shooting pastel colors across your warm skin and making you look so lovely, enough to make the clown press off the wall. 

Your bed was small, definitely going to be barely enough for the two of you as he kneeled onto your mattress, dipping the weight and making you shift, whining from your dream. “Hi, pretty.” Jack cooed softly, brushing your hair out of your flushed face and leaning down towards you, breathing in your lovely smell. He loved everything about you, every small detail that no human would ever notice, only his unnatural abilities could pick up on. You needed him, he could smell it, feel it. Pressing his body down onto the mattress, he curled around you, spooning you against him as he wrapped his arms around your small waist, tugging you closer. You immediately relaxed against him, back arching to accommodate his large stature and legs tangling with his long ones, breathing deep as he snuggled behind. The clown’s claws danced on your skin, tugging at your clothes and brushing against your hair, smiling as he placed small kisses against your tired face. You melted into him, mind completely unaware as he still mixed in your dreams, contorting your senses to automatically crave him. 

“So small… smells good…” He mumbled against the shell of your ear, a subconscious gasp slipping as goosebumps rose. Jack kissed against your neck, minding his long nose and nibbling against your skin, slowly fading your dream out and substituting it for real life. You whined, hands gripping onto his wandering arms and tugging at them, snoring lightly. Small mumbles fell from your mouth, little confused jabbers and sleepy questions that he couldn’t quite hear, but pressed his lips to the shell of your ear anyway. “Jack.” He whispered, kissing against your neck as your browns knitted, sleep heavy on your brain. “Jack…” You mumbled back halfway through a sigh, pressing your neck against his mouth, mindlessly feeding into the clown’s growing arousal. “Jack…” You whispered again, beginning to numbly repeat the name and let it settle in your mind, Jack’s excitement bouncing at the delicious way you said it. As you continued, he began to push your shirt up, palming at your tits and tugging the fabric over your head, letting the goosebumps rise as he ran his claws down. “Pretty girl.” He smiled, nibbling against your bare shoulder.

The clown’s cock was throbbing now, nestled comfortably against your ass as he began to slowly rut against you, long tongue lapping at your warm skin. He drew a claw up, wrapping it around your tiny throat and squeezing slightly, grinning at the sigh that he pushed out as he pressed his hips against your flesh. His cock slotted perfectly between your clothed asscheeks, hips jerking and stuttering as he chased his arousal, holding your hips still as he moved. Draped slightly over you, he pinned you in place, the sheer weight of the clown securing your hips as he moaned into your ear, panting his approval as he humped against you. Your body subconsciously pressed back against him, back arching to get a better angle of his clothed cock against you, letting his claw mindlessly rouse you from your deep sleep and slowly into consciousness. He felt you stir, wrapping a claw around your jaw and turning your head, watching as your eyes slowly fluttered open. He pressed his lips to yours, tugging your cheek and shoving your lips against his, forcing a desperate makeout that your tired brain couldn’t comprehend yet. Jack panted and groaned into your open mouth, lips occasionally catching but he was too focused on rutting his hips, grinding his clothed cock against your ass as you shifted, straining against his rough grasp.

“Jack…” You sighed again, the name repeating like a quiet mantra as your tired brain tried to figure out what was happening, hips instinctively leaning into it because you felt so good despite being so dazed out. “Jack..?” You began to question, hands pressing against his claw snagged onto your hip, cheeks squished together as the clown kissed against the corner of your lips, panting against the skin. Jack dug his heels into your sheets, long limbs contorting to fit around you as you began to squirm, trying to press out of his grasp now, trying to understand what was happening. “Lay still, pretty girl…” He hissed, tip catching on the band of your panties, tugging them up as he rutted, nails digging into your soft skin. You whined, pushing on the sheets and trying to turn around, trying to see who was behind you, but the clown held you still, beginning to guide your hips with his.

It helped that you were already aroused from your dream, body already hot and bothered and easily coaxed into his movement, taking little persuasion for you to open your legs and let his cockhead nudge against your clothed entrance. You mewled, hissing against his teeth nibbling into your skin, little welts appearing across your shoulder. “Feel how hard you make me… Can’t wait to be inside… Can’t wait…” Jack was huffing, burying himself into the crook of your neck as he pushed his hard cock against you, practically forcing your panties into your entrance as he nudged at your hole, trying to make himself inside despite his slacks covering him. He throbbed, claws desperate and tongue curling against your neck, lapping at your sweat and scent of excitement. You didn’t have to look anymore, didn’t have to guess as the ruffles of his collar pressed against the back of your head, long limbs swallowing you, dreams had revealed enough for you to know, enough for you to grind down against him. How he was here, how he had gotten into your bed, how he even knew where you lived, you were too tired to guess, too tired to do anything but let his claws guide you under him, his body sliding down yours. This dream was more intense than the others, it felt real, you tried to convince yourself you were still asleep, still dozing alone in your bed during this wet dream.

But as claws slipped into your panties and desperately tugged off of your soaked cunt, pulling them off of your ankles, you began to question. Jack’s large claw snagged around both of your ankles, holding them in the air as he kneeled, sliding his suspender straps off of his shoulders. You watched through sleepy eyes, eyelashes fluttering as he let the straps fall at his hips, unbuttoning his slacks and tugging them down, letting his angry cock slip out, balls tugged out and laid heavy between his legs. You gasped, whining as he kneeled closer, prying your legs apart and grinning at your sopping pussy. “Gonna eat you out, pretty girl. Gonna make that pussy cum, m’kay?” He chuckled, bright eyes roaming your tiny body compared to his, laying down on his chest as he wrapped his long arms around your thighs, dragging you closer.

You squirmed and whined, letting your hands run down your body and to his wild dark hair, snagging in the mess and tugging his face closer, letting your thighs press open. You had no fear, blissfully unaware of how real this situation was as Jack licked your folds open, long tongue twirling and flicking against your lips. He groaned, kissing against your soaked arousal before pressing his tongue in, nudging the muscle into your entrance and letting your back tug off the bed, curling your hips down onto his tongue as you moaned. Jack was so into it, so focused on pushing his tongue as deep as he could that he could hear you begin to panic, tugging his hair back as you realized that tongue was far longer than you anticipated. It jolted you out of your tired haze, the sensation of your walls stretching around the clown’s large tongue made you keenly aware of just how little this felt like a dream anymore, how real this all seemed. Jack just continued, curling and twisting his tongue along your plush walls, wanting only to soak in your lovely taste and get you ready for him, what he knew you needed. 

You began to jabber your sobs, mumbling against your moans and whining for Jack to stop, hips twitching against the overwhelming feeling. You could hardly breathe, every press of his tongue against your g-spot making you suck in a ragged breath and cry out, gasping for relief. Jack began to thrust his cock into the bed below, rutting against the soft sheets as he became so turned on by your noises, bright eyes clenched shut as he worked. He whined into your cunt, sloppy and messy movements pushing slobber and arousal against his chin, smearing it along your thighs and cheeks, Jack losing himself in your taste. “So tasty…” He babbled against your folds, sucking your lips as he gushed into your cunt, cock whining to be buried inside and stretching you open. You were clawing at the sheets, pushing against his head as you pleaded for him to stop, overstimulation rushing over you as you stuttered, clit pulsing as your thighs shook, begging to close. Jack wouldn’t listen, he could barely even hear you over the roar in his ears, his primal urge to stuff you ruling out any remorse he felt for your aching pussy. 

Despite your pleas, you were cumming quickly against his tongue. Walls clenching and hips spasming around the girth of his tongue, clenching down tight as your arousal soaked in. Jack whined, moaning loud into your folds as he sucked and lapped at your juices, claws dug tight into your thighs as he moved his head with your flinching hips, refusing to let up until he tasted every drop. You cried, sobbing into your hands as he held you still, breath heavy and chest panting as you rode your high, overstimulation pinching at your senses. Jack had rutted a wet spot into your sheets, cock leaking profusely as he lifted off, sliding his soaked tongue out of your dripping cunt and grinning, panting against your thighs. 

You could barely look through hooded eyes at the mess he had made, white face paint smeared across your thighs and folds, sweat and arousal smearing the paint against your skin. It was enough to make Jack cum, his cock twitching hard in the air as he sat back, admiring his paint all over you. You whined, pushing against his claws wrapped around your thighs as he tugged them open again, positioning his hips against yours.

He nestled his cock against your cunt, gripping the length and slapping it down against your clit and making you jump, sensitivity pulsing through you. “No… please…” You whined, trying to clench your thighs together but he held your ankles easily, holding them arm's length apart. “Why are you this turned on if you don’t want it, pretty girl?” He mused, dropping one of your ankles to line his tip with your entrance, the girth much bigger than any cock you had taken before and making your skin chill as he began to push. You frantically clawed at the sheets, trying to push away from the clown. “It won’t fit.” You whined, pushing your hands to cover your aching cunt as Jack laughed, abandoning your legs to wrap a claw around your wrists, pining them above your head as he repositioned, nudging himself in. “You’ll learn to take it…” He chuckled, using his free hand to hold your soft hips down as he pushed in, the tip popping in against the wetness and warmth of your cunt. It probably wouldn’t fit as comfortably as you wanted it to, but when your tightness began to squeeze around Jack’s already-about-to-cum cock, he didn’t mind hearing your desperation if it meant he got to feel you. 

“You were made for me, lovely.” Jack hissed against your ear as he lay on top of you, slowly guiding your hips down as he pushed in, stretching your cunt impossibly wide as you cried, sobbing into the lips that began to press against yours. This wasn’t a dream, not anymore, you realized. A claw held down your wrists above your head, the other sliding under your knee to push your leg back, opening your entrance wider to give the clown a better angle. He moaned loudly, laughing through whines as he began to shallowly thrust, the first couple inches pushing in and out of your cunt as you sobbed, straining against him. “That’s it. Let me in, let me fuck you like you need to be…” He smiled, lazy laughs and heavy groans filling your open mouth as he sucked on your lips, nibbling his teeth into your jaw. With every thrust he aimed to go deeper, to push his cock in further than the last one.

It was devastating for your cunt, the poor sensitive thing struggling to balance out the pleasure and pain that was wrecking you as you arched, trying to open up more. “Can you feel me inside? Do you even know how good you feel?” Jack laughed, moving to bite down against your neck, hissing as he licked against the wound, kissing down your shoulder. He was getting deeper down, cunt relaxing the longer he thrust, walls fluttering around the desperate length that begged to bottom out, getting ever closer. It was so deep you felt like you couldn’t breathe right, gut flinching and contorting with every press against your sensitive gut. 

Loud skin slapping echoed as Jack’s cock began to press against the deepest part of your cunt, nudging against your womb and fucking you open quickly. His balls slapped your ass, the heavy mounds smacking down as he leaned back, letting go of your wrists to cup his hands under your knees, pushing them back as you began to paw at his chest. “Mngonna fuck you so full… Milking me like you need it.” He panted between thrusts, tugging his hips out as far as he could before pushing back into your gushing cunt, loud squelches and soaked folds coating his length. He was close, bright eyes rolling softly as you gripped his ruffled collar, tugging against it as he snapped his hips, moaning against your skin. “You were made for me, pretty girl. Need to cum… Mngonna cum and show how good it feels in you…” He smiled, blubbering against his swollen lips as he pressed his lips with yours, whining into your mouth as he spilt.

His cum was hot and thick, pumping into your ruined cunt desperately like he truly needed you full, big with his seed. He groaned loud, eyes clenched shut as he thrust through his orgasm, milking his cock of all it was worth inside of you, twitching deep into your warmth. “That’s it… So good… Knew it would be…” He hissed, clawing into the underside of your thighs as he raised off of you, licking a stripe across your cheek and nibbling the flesh before leaning back.

You waited for him to pull out, to let his thick cum spill against your sheets, but he didn’t. He only turned you onto your side, leaving his still-hard cock nestled in your cunt as he tugged your right leg onto his shoulder, relaxing back against you. You watched through heavy, panicked eyes, clawing at your pillow as he began to thrust again, sensitive cunt screaming at you as his nudged his cum back in. You immediately began to kick your legs, pushing him away as he just pressed deeper, claw wrapping around your thigh as he wrapped around the other, tugging your body to his with every thrust. Tears spilt, the air from your lungs gasping out as Jack cried out, clenching his sharp teeth as he watched you come undone again, relishing in the way you stared back at him, eyes pleading. “Don’t close your eyes yet, pretty girl… Just one more, I need it, just one… You can take it, I know you can, yeah?” Through every thrust, he chanted some desperate coax, your answering whines and sobs combatted against your cunt that fluttered against his words, fucking his cum deeper into you. Even though your mind refused, Jack had conditioned you, preparing you for him. Even if you didn’t know it, your body wanted him, beckoned for him, needed him. He couldn’t let you down.

Pushing his chest down, he bent your leg on his shoulder, pushing it down and opening your cunt wider, shoving his hips so deep even he gasped against the tightness. “Jack-” You cried, palming against his claws and scratching at his shirt, trying to ground yourself as your body racked under his tugs, bones going limp under him. You were so tired, so delusionally overstimulated you couldn’t physically resist, only your unheard begs falsely wishing for relief, but you knew better, knew that every time your cunt strained around the girth it was a heavenly feeling. “What, pretty? C’mon, talk.” Jack whined, kissing against your calf and nibbling at the skin, turning you onto your back to tug your other leg up onto his opposite shoulder, pushing them both back. With every thrust of his hips, his cum leaked out of your entrance, pooling between your cheeks and mixing with your arousal.

You cried at the deepness, every slap of his hips pushing his cock against your g-spot, nails clawing against his shoulders as his claws rested on your tits, massaging the mounds as he thrust. “So big… Deep…” You gasped out, arching into the feeling as your stomach coiled, your orgasm teetering at the edge. Jack grinned, jagged teeth shining against your nightlight as he continued, spreading his knees to get a better push, skin slapping loud enough to echo against the small room. “Can you cum again, lovely? Cum for me?” You nodded, running your hands into his messy hair and holding stable, tugging as he grinned, speeding his thrusts to a nauseating pace.

You were cumming around his cock hard, hips jerking and slamming against his as you writhed, eyes rolling back as your cunt swallowed him deeper. “Just like that…” Jack mewled, letting his own thrusts become lazy as he grit, whining against the tightness of your cumming walls. The clown was quick to follow, spilling yet again deep inside, fucking his orgasm into you as he refused to stop, pushing your senses into overload as you sobbed, tears running down your cheeks. Jack let your ankles slip off of his shoulders, pressing his chest down against yours as he licked into your mouth, pressing his lips down as you milked his cock dry, tugging the last of his orgasm through with your own. 

You both panted heavily, desperate touches continuing against each other’s skin as you both made out, lying the afterglow of your mutual ecstasy. “So pretty… my pretty girl… mine.” Jack slipped between kisses, letting his cum leak as he slowly pulled out, popping the tip of his cock out of your tight rim. You whined, letting his claws feel your soft skin as he tugged you against him, letting your eyes flutter closed as you felt his cum spill onto the sheets below.

Sleep overtook you, the early hours of the morning tugging at your sore bones as you relished in the feeling of no more perverted dreams keeping you stirred. But when your bed lay empty the next morning, sheets askew and cum stained into the fabric, your friends would have no clue where you went. They would have no clue whose arms you were draped in, carried closely through the woods and out of sight and reach of anyone who wanted you. You were special, different from the mindless humans he preyed upon, you were his. He had claimed you fair and square.

No one wanted you as Jack did. And no one would ever get the chance to again.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[clockwayswrites]

Tired Dads bit-

AN: I polled HH for something from my hopefully list to write no pressure for as a reward for finishing 2 fics, this is what they voted for and what the result is!

-

“—and then he flew right off the bridge! Just, done talking with me and off he went. ‘Parently I sounded angry and he didn’t want to talk to me when I was like that— a certain bird told him he shouldn’t have to! Being fair that is true, he shouldn’t have talk to me if I’m having a mare. He doesn’t have to put up with anyone’s anger, but I wasn’t angry! I was just… I was just…”

“Scared?” Bruce suggested when John couldn’t bring himself to say the word.

Bruce was lounging in the dark leather armchair, actually lounging too. It was the most relaxed that John had ever seen Bruce. His long legs were spread wide and stretched out over the opulent carpet, feet clad in nothing but socks. One arm was draped carelessly over the arm of the seat, the other rested the crystal glass of deep, amber whiskey against his temple. It ruffled his dark hair slightly.

John swallowed and looked away for more than one reason. “Yeah mate, scared. You’re lucky your brood can’t fly.”

Bruce snorted inelegantly.

“Fuck off,” John said, “you are.”

“No I’m not,” Bruce said, voice low and soft, “because that means they can fall.”

“Oh, that’s…” John swallowed a mouthful of his own whiskey. “Yeah, that is worse.”

The clink of ice was loud in the resulting quiet.

Bruce was, fascinatingly, the one who broke it.

“Did I ever tell you how I got Dick? And don’t you dare say what’s running through your mind right now.”

John wisely snapped his mouth closed.

Bruce eyed him for a moment longer before his gaze drifted, unfocused, to the side. “I was at the circus of all places. Alfred keeps a list of events in Gotham for me to go to so that I’m not absent from the social sphere for too long. This circus had, among other things, a family of famous acrobats. That night was their son’s first public performance with them.”

“…fuck.”

“Yes,” Bruce said. That was one of the good things about Bruce, he never thought John was stupid. Foolish, reckless, and brash, sure, but not stupid. He knew that John already saw where this was going, but kept speaking anyways. Maybe he needed to tell it. “Their lines were sabotaged and the parents fell to their deaths. Dick watched the whole thing. I’ve spent every night that he flies with me afraid that I’ll watch him fall too.”

John rolled his glass between his hands, feeling the cut crystal press into his palms. “But you still let him go out.”

There was that snort again. “Because there’s no stopping him. He was meant to fly.” Bruce tossed back the rest of his drink, swallowing more money in booze in one mouthful than John had drank to get blackout drunk. “And your son was too.”

“Not my son.”

Bruce leaned forward, placing his glass down on the side table with a heavy clink. His rich blue eyes were piercing— serious in a way that John’s own ice blue never could manage. “You have to stop telling yourself that, John. If he wasn’t your son, you wouldn’t be so afraid.”

John scowled as he burred his face in his glass. It was easier than facing Bruce because Bruce, out of everyone, knew. “Fuck you.”

“I’m hardly drunk enough for that, John, especially from you.”

John choked on his drink, coughing down the expensive whiskey.

[wileys-russo]

Babe I just saw this TikTok and if you felt up for it and have nothing else to do maybe you can make a blurb about R or maybe a Player pranking their girlfriend by hiding in the jacket on the door or something lmao.

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeu9tCRE/

decided to go for ms Misa with this, a clown jump scare II m.rodriguez

this was it, you were finally going to get your revenge.

months, no years, of being the but of the joke, the victim of the countless pranks and the heart attacks from all the jump scares. all of your pathetic attempts to even the score and you were finally about to get a notch in your belt.

no more would you get the infuriating mock pout of sympathy and the pitiful kiss to your cheek or ruffle of your hair with the 'nice try amor, maybe next time.' as if you were just an amusing little source of entertainment.

you'd tried, no begged, for them to stop. though it seemed the more you did so or tried to get even it spurred the clowns on even further to mess with you.

you thought that when one of them had finally grown into her ears and you realised she was actually quite sweet and cute, you might have the protection one expects comes with a girlfriend as sometimes hot headed and passionate as misa.

but no, if anything once the two of you were officially together it only seemed even more of a green light for not just her but the rest of her little circus to continually mess with you.

you got a brief reprise when playing at club level together for real madrid, misa had less of her little playmates around then to spur her on and help with her antics.

but it was national camps where they really thrived, and you suffered at their hands.

it had gotten to the point you knew they kept score, noting down in a little blue book how many times each of them could scare you during camp, leaving you horribly on edge and double checking every corner and every room you walked into.

your other much more mature and level headed teammates took pity on you and attempted to provide aid, warning you ahead of time as best they could when they heard wind of potential set ups which you were immensely grateful for.

you'd originally had no plans of retaliation, instead taking on board irene's advice to just ignore them and as best you could give them no reaction to feed off of knowing that often spurred them on more than anything else.

mapi and leila used to be two of the worst, constantly jumping out from corners or hiding under your bed after swiping your key card with nimble fingers, relentlessly competitive with one another for who could gain more points for scaring you each camp.

then came jenni and virginia, upping things by adding in not only the jump scares but also ridiculously juvenile pranks that had a scowl near permanently etched into your brow the entire camp as you started to make it a routine to be constantly checking over your shoulder.

then it was misa and patri, patri who very easily picked up on your crush on the goalkeeper and her most trusted accomplice and unbeknownst to you tried her very best to use these little jump scares and pranks to force misa to recognize her own unrequited crush on you.

needless to say, it worked. but that did not mean you were no longer fair game.

and so after a morning filled with people jumping out at you from corners and cupboards and your own girlfriend even going as far as to hide herself under one of the canteen tables and grab your ankle when you least expected it causing you to scream and spill half your lunch down the front of you.

her laughter stopped the moment she pulled herself out from the table and saw the near murderous look on your face and the training top now soaked with a delightful mix of recovery shake and tandori chicken.

"no, stay. you leave the poor niña alone to go and change before gym!" alexia grabbed the back of your girlfriends top and yanked her down in her seat as you hurried out of the canteen, ona and aitana quickly following after you.

"its only a joke ale, relajarse." jenni chuckled, not at all phased by the witherly dry look thrown at her by the younger girl who kept a firm hold on the goalkeepers top who stared at the door which you'd exited after like a kicked puppy.

"to you. there are lines, and lunch should not be a time where she needs to fear you idiotas!" alexia rolled her eyes and let go of misa who sank into her chair with a huff, pushing her lunch tray away from her with a scowl.

assuring ona and tana that you were fine and sending them back down to lunch you quickly stripped and changed, wishing you had time for a shower but heading down to the gym knowing lunch was likely already finished.

as soon as you appeared your girlfriend was right by your side attempting to apologize and pull you into a hug. "its okay amor." you promised caressing her cheek as her face lit up. "really?" she asked eagerly.

"no! aléjate de mí." you quipped sharply, your elbow ramming into her stomach as she doubled over with a groan and a grunt and jenni nearly fell backwards off the weights bench clutching her stomach with laughter.

"cariño por favor!" misa called after you still with a groan as you flipped her off and paired up with ona who couldn't keep the grin off her face, alexia slapping your back proudly as she passed to go pair up with irene.

clearly sensing your distaste and simmering anger misa kept her distance though you could still feel her pouty expression and longing puppy dog eyes following after your every move despite that.

during a quick water break you felt a tap on your shoulder, turning around with a scowl expecting it to be your girlfriend but your face immediately softened seeing vicky stood there instead.

"off your phone during gym!" you laughed as she opened up tiktok and brushed you off with a shake of your head. "not for me, for you. look!" she held up her phone and you, and ona whose head popped up beside yours, watched a quick video.

"its cute." you chuckled, a little unsure why she was so intent on showing you as both vicky and ona gave you a strange look. "what?" you frowned back at them cluelessly.

"do it to misa, estúpido!" vicky rolled her eyes as ona hummed her agreement and you scoffed. "that? she will just laugh at me!" you protested as both girls disagreed. "maybe. but its also your best bet at scaring her back for once amiga, anything more...complicated, you could not pull off." ona chuckled honestly as vicky nodded eagerly.

"sí! so what have you got to lose?"

~

so now this was it, you were finally going to get your revenge.

was it the grand super slam get backs of all get backs you wished you could pull on not only misa but also all of the girls who found endless amusement in picking on your easily frightened nature? no.

but it was still a notch in your belt and you'd take it.

you hurried off the very moment the session was called to a close, gone in a flash so fast your girlfriend barely saw the back of your head before she blinked and you'd dissapeared.

you knew she needed to sit with the physio for awhile to have her shoulder checked after taking an awkward fall this morning which gave you a small window of time to get ready.

now you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel somewhat ridiculous, your body curled up into itself as you heard her key click open the front door to her hotel room, likely having knocked on yours to find nobody answered.

you both had spare keys to one anothers rooms, but with light fingers you'd swiped yours from misa's bag so she couldn't access your room, and it was near certain she still thought you were mad at her and had refused to open your door for her.

which gratefully meant she would not be expecting you in her room let alone curled up in her jacket on the back of the wardrobe door.

you heard her huff and puff as she made her way about the room, and waited until you heard the squeak of her throwing herself down on her bed with a deep sigh.

you'd thought ahead and left your phone in your room, hearing her groan and mumbled to herself as she tried to call and text you but they went unread and unanswered.

if there was one thing about your girlfriend you knew to be true it was that she often got so caught up in her own head, needing a moment of silence to reflect and process what was going on which you knew to give her space for after hard losses, allowing her to come to you once she was ready.

so like now you heard the room go quiet, misa caught up in her own head and unknown to her, right where you needed her.

you counted to three and gently dropped down, your girlfriend too busy thinking to see your legs ever so carefully hit the floor as you silently slipped out of her jacket and turned, misa still not noticing you.

"hola amor!" you yelled as you leapt at her, launching onto the bed as the girl let out a blood curdling scream and fell right off of it landing on her ass as you collapsed into the mattress laughing.

"finally! finally i got you! i scared you!" you cheered happily bouncing up and down on the bed as the goalkeeper scowled up at you and crossed her arms.

"you got me once. grow up!" you squealed as she stood and pushed at your shoulder mid bounce almost sending you toppling off the bed before you caught yourself.

"yeah i did, and thats a win for me mi vida. put that in your stupid little blue book!" you teased with a grin so wide it almost split your face in half as the girl huffed and sat down on the bed, refusing to meet your eyes and glaring at the wall.

"mis, mi amor you are not allowed to be so pouty and moody after you have spent years terrorising me and i got you back once!" you warned, standing up and staring firmly down at her with your arms crossed.

"i do not terrorise you!" misa frowned as your eyebrows raised questioningly. "okay, maybe i could be a little nicer." the girl grumbled as you scoffed and your eyebrows raised even higher.

"vale vale! ven aquí sexy." the goalkeeper balled your shirt in her fists and tugged you down and on top of her, pout still lightly playing on her lips as she leaned up to press them to yours but you pulled away, sitting up as your legs straddled her hips.

"i'm not kissing you, not till you apologize for lunch which you seem to have forgotten about." you reminded as the girl winced and smiled sheepishly, hands tracing circles on your bare thighs.

"lo siento mucho, mucho, mucho. mi niña muy bonita!" misa apologised sincerely, sitting up herself and kissing all over your face as she repeated the words over and over.

"vale! but promise me, no more messing with me while we eat? that means lunch, breakfast, dinner, all of it." you warned sternly as the girl nodded and mumbled a promise against your lips as you finally let her kiss you properly for a moment.

pulling away you pushed at her chest as she laid back down and you curled into her, exhaling as you relaxed to the sound of her heartbeat, strong hands curved around your back holding you safely in her arms.

"...that still leaves me many many hours of the day to scare you anyway cariño."

[borealalice]

Valentino finds him crouched against the wall of the motorhome that they share with Honda on the other side, still seething with white hot rage after yelling at Márquez. Screaming at him had done nothing to get the anger out of his system, and then he’d heard Marc telling the press he wasn’t even going to bother discussing Marco’s outburst, and now he’s trying very hard to calm down before he goes to congratulate Pecco. His brother doesn’t deserve that kind of negativity, and right now, Marco wants to kill somebody.

Vale crouches in front of him, one of his big hands finding the curls on the back of Marco’s head. “Ben detto” he murmurs softly. “It’s not your fault, he clearly hasn’t changed at all.”

Marco scrapes his hands over his face, wincing at his nose. “He didn’t even react when I screamed at him. Just stared, and then told someone else to remove me from his motorhome.” His fists clench. “And then he says he’s not going to waste time discussing me! Figlio de puttana!”

Vale ruffles his hair. “I’ve been telling you, he’s a crazy motherfucker. He’ll never learn.”

“Hey!” A voice he doesn’t recognize rings out on the other side of the wall.

“Hey, man, ¿qué pasa?.” That one, he’d know anywhere.

“Classy move out there today, completely sidestepping the questions.” It’s not a driver. Someone from the Honda team, probably.

Márquez snorts. “Bezzecchi is what, 23?” He must be changing out of his leathers. They’ve clearly not realised that there’s someone left on the motorhome next door, because they’re making no effort to lower their voices to avoid being heard through the paper-thin walls.

“24, I think.” Says the other voice. He’s almost 25, actually. He rolls his eyes at Vale. What does it matter that he’s young? He has half a mind to go back in there and yell at him some more. Fuck him. Youth does not mean he’s not legitimate competition, or a good driver.

“Eh, still barely an adult.” Márquez again. “Everybody is a fucking idiot in their twenties, but I’m no longer in my twenties. I know how this circus works now, and what would happen if I said anything personal about him to the press. I don’t mind giving my opinion on what he’s done on the race, or what I think he’s done on the race, but anything beyond that is a no, even if he’s a dickhead.” He pauses. Then adds, softer. “Actually, I don’t think he’s a dickhead. He’s just young, and we have both heard everything he said today before, and we both know they’re not his words. I can’t fault the kid for following a god blindly, I used to do it too.”

The world tilts three degrees on its axis. Valentino’s face goes white as a sheet.

“Look at you. Is this what maturity looks like?”

Márquez’s laugh sounds bitter. “I already said it in my documentary, but I don’t wish what Valentino put me through at 22 on anybody. 22 is a stupid age. You think you’re immortal, but you also think you’ll die if you don’t win this championship. Or not die, but the team will drop you if you stop performing, which is just as bad. There’s always someone behind you waiting to get on your bike, if you can’t stay on it. Your body can recover from almost everything, but the press and the team are already counting down the seconds until it gives out. It's an environment where it’s almost impossible to make good decisions, especially in the middle of a race where you’re going 300km/h, your only thought is that you have to be 1st, and you have 2 milliseconds to see and react to anything.” Something opens on the other side of the wall.

“You must still be angry at him. Especially after everything you heard today.”

There’s no need to clarify who “him” is. It’s clearly not Marco.

Something closes. “I’m not even angry anymore, more like. Disappointed? Disappointed with Valentino, because he was supposed to be my friend but he thought badly enough of me to believe that I’d do all those things he accused me of. Didn’t even let me explain. But also disappointed in myself, because it really is the worst feeling when you are just being yourself and your idol, friend, favourite person” - Marco can’t look at Valentino - “in the world publicly says that makes you a danger for everyone and poison for the sport you have dedicated your life to. And suddenly everybody despises you. You don’t just shrug something like that off, no matter how hard I’ve tried to pretend I have.”

There’s a metallic thunk, like someone dropping a bag on a bench.

“I can only be myself. I’ve never learned to be any other way, and I will never play mind games. I want to keep winning until I physically can’t anymore, and then retire and be done with all of this.”

“Are you going to set up your own training academy?” Suggests the other man, timidly.

There’s a meaningful pause.

“I don’t know if you’ve seen the documentary, but only two drivers came to see me before I got the surgery. A surgery that involved re-breaking my arm on several points and rotating the bone. There was a chance I might never come back to motogp, and most people didn’t care, not even my own teammate. And even younger drivers like Bezzecchi clearly believe everything that has been said of me, after all these years and after riding with me. I don’t think I will have any kind of legacy other than a number of championships and a bad reputation for my riding style. And a lot of scars and metal in my body. I don't think mentoring will ever be a possibility. I don’t think I want to teach anyone how to ride like me, when this is what it gets you.”

Marco can feel his own face drain of blood. There’s no emotion to Márquez's voice. He’s clearly thought this over plenty. It sounds practised, rehearsed, and utterly sincere.

“You still said very nice things about Rossi in a recent video, even after all of this.” 

“I told the truth.” Comes Márquez’s response. “They ask what I think about him as a driver, and that has never changed. He’s the best. Always the best.”

He sounds as certain as anything. The sky is blue, the sun is yellow, and Valentino Rossi is still the best ever MotoGP driver in Marc Márquez’s world.

Valentino’s face is doing something so raw that Marco feels filthy when he hazards a look. He averts his eyes again. 

“As I said, I’m not even mad. I would be happy if he decided to stop hating me one of these days. I still like Valentino. I think what he’s done with the academy is great, the way he’s basically adopted those kids. I try not to think much about him other than that.”

He sounds wistful, Marco realises, like part of him wishes he could have been one more of them at the ranch. Like part of him envies that they got that with Vale.

“Except when one of said kids goes to your motorhome to yell at you.”

Marc snorts again. “Hm, maybe he should have taught them better manners, that’s true. But he’s Valentino Rossi. We wouldn’t like him half as much if he had manners.” And with that, the voices finally fade, Márquez clearly done changing. And then it’s just him and Valentino, still crouched on the floor on the other side of the wall.

Valentino looks ill. Properly green, and Marco understands, because he’s feeling queasy himself when he thinks of everything he’d yelled at Marc only hours earlier, everything he has said about him loud enough for everyone to hear. 

Valentino has approximately eight years of that.

God help them both.

[velvet-games]

in the middle of working on a lucifer redesign :)

thoughts/explanations + minor character analysis under the cut (this was supposed to be short but it ended up being very thorough lmao):

honestly love his canon design so I'm kind of working from that more than I'm trying to rethink stuff from scratch

I'm gonna admit right now that a lot of the design choices were very self indulgent lol; I just want him to be pretty :<

circus stuff~

I've seen a lot of people raise their eyebrows at the circus motif, so I was going to try something different, but I actually think it makes a lot of sense!

I think freakshows/circus acts have been tied to this idea that certain identities/abilities are strange and shameful, only valuable as dehumanizing entertainment -- they're mistakes, freaks of nature

but at the same time many circus performances require a lot of skill and work and love that can go unappreciated, each and every performer at the very least a person worth respecting

I think lucifer sees hell as a freakshow/circus he's been forced to lead and try to control

a bunch of wayward toys meant to be bright and beautiful that have been twisted into something terrifying

and he needs to discover a more empathetic, appreciative, and loving way to think about sinners

and also to realize that it's not about him or his mistakes; it's about a group of people with their own emotions and autonomy that he needs to respect

anyway

all that to say: we're keeping the circus ringleader thing!

I think a whip would make more sense for a ringleader, esp since alastor has a staff already (but they're enemies/foils so maybe their designs should reflect each other?)

there's room to turn the whip into a snake maybe

in the pic I made it look like his tail bc I considered making his actual tail a goat tail (cute! but the longer one suits him better I think)

maybe an apple on the top/handle still

the tux honestly looks a little too formal/cool for him most of the time lmao

so I think he should take off the jacket/have the toymaker apron on instead unless he's fighting

vaudeville doll~

lucifer has a lot going on tbh: circus ringleader, angel, devil/demon, snake, goat, vaudeville porcelain doll, toymaker, etc.

I think I'm gonna take out snake just to simplify a little, but I'll talk about that more later

I was also going to take out porcelain doll but

1) the rosy cheeks are super cute

2) fits with the circus theme

3) fits with the idea that he's both a toy and toymaker (an angel that tried to play god)

uhhh there's a couple self indulgent doodles of him in a vaudeville doll dress lol. not relevant to the design at all; I just like drawing stripes and ruffles

I ended up making him sort of androgynous in a lot of ways? (not that he wasn't already lol) which works for him I think

part of it was the vaudeville doll thing; I wanted to give him (keep?) the eyeshadow and add those little vertical marks you see on them sometimes

also because I really liked the puff sleeves in one of the references I used; it kind of emphasizes an extended hourglass shape with the puffy pants

plus I love drawing the more classic tuxedo shape <3 very yummy lines and details

hair/shape~

I fucking LOVE when people draw him with messy hair, so I made that permanent

I also think (esp since he's blond) having the hair stick out in tufts kind of makes it look like a star (morningstar, lightbringer, etc. etc.)

even more so with the pointy horns (those are also fun to draw cause they're right in the corners of his widow's peak)

I drew a random triangle on one of these as a reminder to keep the pointy/triangular shape language throughout lol

squares would def be wrong with the implications of sturdiness and stability

I think circles would be wrong too? he's vulnerable and ultimately very soft inside so I kept a lot of round lines, but I don't think he's the traditionally bubbly/friendly/peaceful archetype circles are usually used for

triangles are apparently dynamic, dangerous, and unpredictable, which is a little closer to what I'm going for

(shape language is a very flexible rule btw; I'm not saying they determine everything about a character or that one shape has to mean exactly one thing)

he's also a depressed, tortured soul, so I feel like he should look just a little unhinged and exhausted <3 (hence the eyebags on top of the messy hair)

angel stuff~

(sidenote: cherub and seraph are singular, cherubim and seraphim are plural. even the show gets this wrong tho, so feel free to say whatever ig)

I'm pretty sure most people agree lucifer was probably a cherub? cherubim only have 4 wings so I might go with that

I do think it makes more sense if he's higher ranking like a seraph tho ... it's hard to decide whether to go with the show's ideas about angels or actual religious texts cause both are interesting in their own ways

snake~

ARHHGHJF idk how I feel about his nose

again I thought about taking out the snake motif, but he honestly looks good w/o a nose (I mean it's there obviously but you can't see it if it's just snake slits lol), and I definitely like the idea of him having a forked tongue or his eyes turning into slits when he's angry

also also

mini rant on animal motifs in hazbin:

I get the impression that a lot of people think it's a bad thing that you can't tell what animal a character should be? and/or that a motif has to be clearly present in the entire design to be good

and I kind of just accepted that until I started thinking about ozzie's design from helluva boss

like the original demon he's based on is really just that fucked up and mixed with animals you can't always identify

and chinese dragons are like a billion different animals even though they sort of just look like lizards at the end of the day

like obviously if you want the audience to associate a character with a specific animal (like if you want people to think a character's spooky because they're a spider or something), then you do want the animal motifs to be clear/consistent

but sometimes you just want certain elements there and it doesn't matter if the audience picks up on it (at least consciously)

and I think with someone like lucifer, having a lot of animals/concepts mixed together in an ungodly combination makes sense lol

so idk

maybe we'll just give him the nose/tongue

I did try just giving him a button nose in some of these for the doll thing tho

goat/charlie~

urgh I hate realizing I should've designed certain characters together lol

I took out the rosy cheeks in my original charlie design since I wasn't thinking about lucifer, so I put them back in this time lol (and generally thought about how they should be visually related)

I like that it enforces the idea that charlie's lucifer's creation (toymaker makes a doll in his own image yk)

also they both have puff sleeves now :) (charlie's design is basically princess dress silhouette but make it a suit)

I also gave her goat ears, so I figured lucifer should have them too? idk because I like the way his hair looks a lot better without them, and I kind of like the idea of giving them diff combinations of goat features (maybe she should have a goat tail?)

also drawing this made me realize I have no idea why charlie has a puppy nose??? I thought it was the goat thing for some reason but that doesn't make any sense

maybe I'll just give her no nose

anyway! fucking incredible if you read all of that; idk what possessed me to write so much about a half-finished design lol. feel free to leave suggestions/answers to the questions I had!

[t4tmagicians]

"Am I too dark?" Dick asks, at age eight. He's in the first design of what will be his Robin costume, it's barely more than his old circus leotard with a cape stitched onto the shoulders.

Bruce pauses, his hands full of rough, thick fabric. Dick is looking at the mirror they dragged down to the Cave together - it's really starting to look like somewhere lived in, instead of a messy collection of scaffolding and computer screens. He's not glaring at his reflection like he's displeased, it's a softer, almost tired looking expression.

"Too dark for what?" He asks, because he has an idea, but Alfred had reminded him that Dick was struggling with direct communication and Bruce would need to tempt out his feelings.

"To be rich. Cause I am now, kinda." Dick says, like it's obvious. He's giving Bruce a confused look, or at least, he might be. His eyebrows hadn't fully grown in yet, and it was a little hard to figure out his expressions.

"No." Bruce says, pulling a row of stitches tighter. "You're not too dark. You don't look much darker than me." He's a bit unsure on the R emblem on the chest, but Dick had been very insistent on it.

"It's different. I don't -" He makes a frustrated sound. "I don't know why I'm dark. I look like you, but wrong." He says simply, and runs a finger down his nose, frowning.

"You're not wrong." Bruce says, because it's true, and it's the only thing he can think of. "Not for how you look."

"I'm hungry. Can we ask Alfred for pancakes?" Dick says, and that conversation is over.

.

"Chavvi." Dick, age ten, says quietly, as Bruce runs a brush through his dark curls.

"Chavy?" Bruce repeats, wincing as he slowly unpicks a knot with his hands - his hair was getting long now, he might want to suggest a haircut soon.

"You're saying it wrong." He corrects. "Chavvi. It's what mom called me. I think it means kid." He wiggles in the too big chair, and Bruce has to hold his head still to make sure he doesn't accidentally rip a chunk of hair out.

"Chavvi. Okay." Bruce says, and after a moment of hesitation, he adds, "My mom called me lovebug."

Dick snorts. "Lovebug. That's silly."

"Yeah," Bruce looks up at the portrait of his mother and father hanging over the fireplace, and doesn't resist the small smile on his face. "It is silly."

.

"Are you sure?" Stephanie Brown, age fourteen, asks in hushed tones. She's pulling her hair back from her face, and staring at the old mirror in the Batcave that had been there for nearly a decade.

"I can see it." Dick, age twenty, says, leaning over her shoulder. "It's in the cheekbones. See?" He pokes his own, before poking Stephanie's until she giggles, and Bruce has to remind them to get ready for their mission.

"Come on, chavvi." Dick says, ushering Stephanie along. Bruce makes an additional note to Steph's file that night - ethnicity, white (British-Irish) and roma.

.

"Am I too dark for you?" Damian, age ten, snaps, and it's like Bruce is twenty years younger, and the Batcave was only a tiny corner of what it was now, and Bruce wasn't sure how to love a son.

"No." He says, firmly. Because Damian isn't. Later, Dick, age twenty-two, is found fussing over Damian's skin, claiming to care about his scars and their healing alone, but Bruce can see the small, eight year old boy inside of him stood at a mirror and asking, am I too dark?, in every soft swipe of a thumb of Damian's warm brown skin.

.

Duke, age sixteen, takes to the family quickly. Dick goes to ruffle his hair, before realising it's too short. He settles for an awkward headpat instead, which makes Tim laugh.

After a few night shifts, Duke looks at a mirror, and grimaces. "Am I getting paler?"

"Comes with the territory." Stephanie, age eighteen, explains. "I promise, I'm not this white naturally."

It's true, Stephanie browns - pun not intended - easily in the sun.

"Gross." Duke says, and Dick and Stephanie nod in agreement.

.

Summer is sweltering, and Dick is darker than ever. He looks in a mirror, and to Bruce, and smiles brightly. "We need to get you a tan, old man. You're too pale."

"I could stand to be a little darker." He agrees, and he feels a little more full inside.

[theladyofrosewater]

Some of my FNAF 6 designs, close ups and notes under the cut

Scrap Baby

She's like 75% Elizabeth 25% Circus Baby's Murder AI

Still around 7"2 feet tall

Her roller skates are retractable if she needs to walk

I really hate her skirt in Pizza Sim so she gets puffy shorts instead

Puppet

I like ruffles so the design has a bunch

Those round yellow things are bells, She was too silent so Mike belled her like a cat this did not work but she likes them and won't let anyone remove them

Puppet is like 8??? Feet tall

Also dark green because the fandom decided that that's Charlie's color ( because of the mini game right?)

I had like 5 different designs but they started to look like moon so I pulled back on those aspects

Michael

I swear I remember Scott saying Michael lost all of his bones as well as his organs but I can't find the info anywhere so uhhh lets just say he found them again or Henry made him new ones or something

Since his bones are weak he needs a few braces to support himself as well as a pair of crutches to move

I think it would be funny if the remnant the scooper injected him with ONLY works on his hair so that still grows and he absolutely hated it when they started to come in gray.

Part of his lower cheek is missing because of Ennard and he re-enforced his jaw with metal piping

He's only around 6 ft tall, he used to be taller but after the whole scooping ordeal he shrunk around 4/5 inches

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-four of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon.

“I’d say maybe a picnic in the park or something but that seems incredibly dangerous unless I can pre-verify that Ivy’s in Arkham,” Tim muses, smacking a few more goons upside the skull. The others are already scattering to bolt, and there’s not much point in chasing them down; they broke up the deal and sent the suppliers running, and that was the main concern. Now they can track down their source and go from there. “And even then it’s kinda fifty-fifty.” 

“Yeah, you never know what she’s left out there,” Dick agrees. “Plus sometimes the things she’s left out there cross-pollinate, and then no one knows what’s out there, including her.” 

“Don’t remind me,” Tim says with a grimace, having unpleasant flashbacks to the skunkweed thorns and pitcher plant trees. Ivy’s creative enough without any accidental cross-pollination happening. 

“So what does planning a date have to do with that YJ-related op?” Dick inquires casually as the last of the grunts either hit the ground or flee. Tim does not freeze, because he's not fucking new here. 

“Nothing,” he lies. “I’m cycling through the projects I have scheduled to work on this week. Next there’s a stakeout uptown and some reoptimization of my utility belt organization.” 

“Planning dates is in the same category as ops and stakeouts and equipment maintenance, huh?” Dick asks with a laugh, holstering his sticks and then reaching over to ruffle his hair. “Never change, baby bird.” 

Tim is absolutely going to, but again, hopefully not before thirty and ideally while bringing Dick along for the ride. Dick would be a terrible supervillain and also probably pout if Tim put Superman in a kryptonite death trap to sit and think about what he’s done, but Tim loves him and wants him to be happy and also wants to make this awful fucking world a better place, and you don’t do that by just ditching all your friends and co-workers; you plan ahead and work with them, flaws and all. 

Anyway, Barbara would be good at being a supervillain, and she’d be a lot likelier to come along for the ride if Dick did. So that’s also another reason to recruit him. 

They’d both probably like to kill the Joker, anyway. Maybe they could make the rusty crowbar and shrapnel bomb plan a group activity? That’d be nice. 

Look, Batman doesn’t kill, obviously, but Tim isn’t Batman, Dick and Babs are also not Batman, and none of them ever intend to be. So “Batman doesn’t kill” is, in fact, only Bruce’s problem. 

“So I know you’re going to laugh at me for this, but you know the circus is in town next week, right?” Dick says, sparing him a smirk. Tim considers tripping him with his bo staff. “You know, for this totally theoretical and generic one-size-fits-all date that you definitely don’t have anyone in mind for.” 

“While I appreciate the suggestion, the person I don’t have anything in mind for has terrible self-esteem and I promised her someplace ‘nice’ for this totally theoretical and generic one-size-fits-all date,” Tim says, because he is definitely still in the closet here and he is not giving a Bat the clue of saying “they” to obfuscate Kon’s gender. Might as well light the Bat signal with a pride flag filter over it, for fuck’s sake. “She might take fifteen-dollar tickets and sawdust floors the wrong way.” 

“That just means she lacks taste, baby bird,” Dick hums easily, putting his hands on his hips and tapping a foot in consideration. “Hm. Well, Zatanna also happens to be in town next week.” 

Tim considers what it’d do to his self-esteem to watch Kon spend an hour-long show drooling over a gorgeous older woman in fishnets, spanks, and a sexy tuxedo jacket and decides not to go there. Also, there’s the issue of Zatanna potentially recognizing him, and also potentially recognizing Kon, who he doesn’t think she’s ever met but is both terrible at secret identities and a teen heartthrob superhero whose face is all over the place and also looks exactly like Superman’s on top of that. And Zatanna has definitely met Superman.

So yeah, that seems unlikely to end well either way. 

“Maybe,” he says, finally retracting his staff and putting it away. “I don’t know if she likes going to any kind of shows, honestly. Like–I just don’t know her that well yet. Theoretically, obviously.” 

“Obviously,” Dick agrees with a laugh, pulling out his grappling gun and wagging it at him. “Race you back to the Cave? Winner gets tips on how to charm a totally normal civilian who definitely doesn’t fight crime in a cheerleader skirt.” 

Tim has no idea how he feels about the fact Dick is so certain Cissie is the one he’s trying to plan a date for. Then again, Cissie is the one who yelled at half the Justice League. So maybe he sort of understands the assumption. 

Kon looks better in a crop top, though, Tim privately promises himself to never actually say out loud. Like, he definitely does look better, in Tim’s opinion, but a) Cissie would shoot him for said opinion and b) Kon would be unbearably smug about said opinion. And unfortunately, Tim finds Kon’s preening smugness increasingly charming, so he really can’t be doing that to himself. 

He was so damn proud of himself about the fucking crop top, the bastard. Tim should burn it. Or buy him twenty more. One or the other. 

The shorts he’s just not going to think about right now. Like. Ever again. 

He’s pretty sure they’d work better with a thong than boxer briefs, though. Or just going commando outright, maybe. Tactile telekinesis probably makes chafing less of a concern, Tim figures. 

Not that he’s thought about that. At all. In any way. Ever. 

Definitely not. 

Dick fires his grapple and takes off. Tim pretends to be extremely heterosexual about Cissie and not even slightly gay about Kon, though he has very little idea how to actually do that, and rushes after him. There’s basically no way he’s actually going to beat Dick unless criminal activity interferes or Dick just lets him beat him, of course, because Dick’s been flying all his life and flying in specifically Gotham since he was literally prepubescent, and Tim has just been sneaking around random rooftops and alleyways and only actually known how to do a basic somersault for a couple of years, much less any real acrobatics or aerial work. So like, there’s definitely a skill gap there. 

Might as well chuck a flying fish at a hummingbird and see who comes out ahead, really. 

Technically, though, Dick mostly works out of Bludhaven these days, so technically . . . 

Look, Tim just so happens to know about certain construction-related shortcuts that may or may not be currently relevant thanks to some surprise rogue attacks last week, and even if he weren’t pretending to be heterosexual about Cissie he’d be trying to beat Dick back to get first dibs on Alfred’s jaffa cakes, so . . . 

The jaffa cakes are delicious, though the dating advice is unfortunately irrelevant. 

Tim appreciates the thought, at least.

[ominous-auburn-orbs]

I finally actually finished a fic holy moly. I don't have an ao3 account and that place scares me, so here ya go. (Fic under the cut)

It had been quite a long day at the circus. All of the monkey barrels had spilled, causing the monkeys inside to go. Absolutely. Everywhere.

This wasn't even a planned adventure, so Caine had to help as well. Unfortunately, even he was restricted by the need to find the monkeys in order to put them away. It had taken everyone a lot of digital hours, and while they were mostly harmless, the monkeys were very annoying.

For once, Caine thought he was actually feeling tired. Impossible, really, but maybe it was these humans continuing to rub off on him. Speaking of them, the other circus performers had retired to their rooms, likely to at least pretend to sleep. They didn't need it, but recreating pieces of their old 24 hour routine did help keep them just a bit more sane.

It was a good opportunity for Caine to experiment with something. He had heard about it from Jax and Zooble, who were having a proper conversation for once rather than just cursing each other out. They were talking about the few joys they could remember, and one of them was something called alcohol. Caine did his own research, as it would be good to incorporate this thing if his performers missed it so, but found alcohol to be not as family friendly as he would like. However, that didn't stop him from being curious. He was essentially a digital god, anyway, so the effects couldn't be too bad, right?

With a final scan of the room, Caine summoned a bottle of wine. It was apparently one of the more popular kinds. He just hoped he'd transferred it well enough into the digital plane for it to not have changed, save for its low poly appearance. Just as he opened the bottle, Bubble appeared.

"Hey there, Caine! Whatcha-" Caine wasted no time in popping them. He felt almost ashamed of what he was doing. It's not like he was doing anything inherently wrong, per se, but he did know it wasn't something he was programmed for, as self-indulgence rarely was.

Still, none of the other performers were involved, so it's not like anyone could somehow get hurt. He'd be fine, anyway. No harm done.

-------------‐----------------------------------------------------------------

Harm may have been done. Caine had drank the entire bottle. He could feel something in his mind changing earlier on, like his thoughts were turning to liquid, but he had pushed through regardless. The result could've been amusing.

He was floating through the hallway of doors, although he could barely stay in the air. He'd already hit the walls a few times. It was a miracle none of the others had checked what the noise was about. Caine was sure he was looking for something. He'd had it just a moment ago...

His memory returned once he laid his eyes upon his target: Kinger's room.

He hadn't wanted anyone to get involved, but his suddenly heightened desire to see Kinger overpowered that. He raised his hand and knocked on the door in a continuous tempo until he heard a response. Well, it admittedly took a few responses.

"Umm, hello? Who is it?" Kinger's voice sparked a feeling of joy in Caine's chest.

"Heeyyyy, Kinger! It'sss me, Cainne! Can- can I ccome in?"

There was the slight ruffling of pillows before the door opened a crack, revealing a fragment of the chess piece's face, which quickly relaxed upon seeing Caine.

"Oh good, it's just you." Kinger opened the door further, observing the ringmaster's spaced-out expression and wobbling movements. "You don't look too well. Is everything alright?"

He moved out of the way and gestured for Caine to enter, closing the door behind him.

"Weelll, I may have- uh, Jax and Zooooble were- it's reeaalllyy not that bad-" Caine's very limited concentration finally gave up on him completely, causing him to stop flying and land on Kinger, who narrowly avoided being knocked to the floor by the impact. He instinctively held onto Caine in an attempt to keep him safe, although he did hold on for a bit longer than necessary before setting the ringmaster on his feet.

"Caine, are you-" The idea sounded ridiculous, seemingly impossible, and yet, "are you drunk?"

"Oh, u-uh... heheh, lllooks like you got mee!" Caine broke out into a fit of drunken giggles, with Kinger having to keep his hands firmly on his shoulders to keep him upright. The chess piece decided against scolding Caine or asking the abundance of questions he had, instead channeling that energy into a sigh that prefaced his gentle tone.

"I remember a bit of what being drunk was like. I can help you." He crouched down to Caine's level, keeping eye contact. "Do you need to throw up?"

"I don't think- think I can... nnooo?" He was purposefully leaning towards Kinger, attempting to regain that moment of contact they had had. He recognised the yearning it caused in his chest, something Kinger often started. He knew he wanted more of it. More of Kinger.

"Alright. Uh, can you summon some water? Drinking it usually helps. Just don't do it too fast, okay?"

Caine blindly followed the command, slowly downing a glass of water, his balance returning somewhat. He placed the empty glass in his hat, making it disappear to God knows where. It earnt him a gentle pet on the head from Kinger, drawing some more giggles from him.

"Good job. How about you come into my fortress? You can sleep it off. I-if you even can sleep, that is." He stood up to lead Caine to the pillow fort in the middle of the room, but was stopped by Caine wrapping his arms tightly around Kinger's body, burying his face in the other's coat. Heat rose in Kinger's cheeks.

"Thank youuu... you're the- nicest person, ever." The heat worsened. Was that really what he thought?

"Oh!.. Thanks, Caine. I think you're nice too." The chess piece went back to petting the other, one hand on his head and the other on his back.

They stayed like this for a while until Kinger eventually realised that Caine would not be letting go any time soon. Moving one of his hands under Caine's thighs, Kinger picked him up and carried him into the fort. He wasn't even sure if Caine noticed.

He sat down, placing Caine in his lap, face (teeth?) still buried in his coat, leaning into his chest.

"Are you feeling any better? Do you want to sleep?"

"Mhhmmm..." Caine nuzzled further into Kinger, still chasing that incredibly unique and beautiful feeling. He didn't really want to sleep yet. There was so much he still wanted to say.

"Kinger. I- I llove you." It was like Kinger's heart exploded. Yet it didn't hurt. It was magnificent. A part of him remembered this feeling, or at least something like it, but he just couldn't place where, or when...

"I love you too, Caine. Now you should really get some rest." He could hear the ringmaster's breathing even out and soften as he started to fall asleep.

"I... I wanna do the human marri- marriage ritual. With you." Kinger startled at the proposal, his face turning an ungodly shade of red.

"L-let's try not to move too fast! How do you even know about that..?" Then again, how did Caine know about alcohol? Just more questions that were unlikely to get answered.

"I'm gonna make yoouu my... husssband..." Caine's voice trailed off as he finally fell asleep. Kinger took some deep breaths to try and calm himself down. A lot had just happened, a lot that would need to be addressed with Caine when he awoke.

Kinger stared at the other's sleeping form for a moment before pressing the part of his head that his mouth would occupy to Caine's top row of teeth. Which unexpectedly resulted in a ridiculously cartoony kissing noise. Kinger was quite shocked by it, but quickly regained his composure before he accidentally woke up Caine.

Perhaps he should stop asking questions for a while.

As he started to doze off, Kinger felt content. Safe. Happy. Perhaps this place really wasn't a total nightmare after all.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

@crispybacondoesstuff YOU. *grabs you by the collar and aggressively shakes you back and forth* YOU DID THIS TO ME

Anyway I'm actually pretty proud of this, and I hope my contribution to the very small amount of royalteeth fics is enjoyed!

[campbell-rose]

Helluva Rewrite: Blitzø

ft Loona doodles :) Alright first off sorry this took so long i got a job lol

A large part of his character is the fact that he used to be a clown, so I took a bit of two face in this design and accentuated the scarring on the left side of his face. I decided to give him the circular cheek bits to allude to the clown as well as ruffling his collar under the clothes. He’s the most complex design of the IMP so far, aside from Loona’s multiple spots, so i tried to keep the colors simple but distinct from M&M. I took the spikes and put them on his clothes – as in he puts on thorns to keep people away. I think a pink tone suits his more lusty character. 

Now as for his character... I'll be honest I struggled with him for a bit. I wasn’t entirely sure where I wanted his character to go or how serious this rewrite would take the drama Viv wants to write. I adore writing deep characters, so I suppose I’m going to have to take The Office’s approach of being a comedy with moving parts. There are overarching plot lines in this version, that being Moxxie’s mafia ties coming back to haunt him, Blitzo’s past coming back to fuck him over in the form of everything about him, and Millie’s insecurities fucking her over when it counts. Maybe the series underlying theme is how running from your problems doesn’t work. Idk, because I also like the whole monster of the week type assassin gigs they do. I’ll make it work. 

So now, introducing the new and improved Blitzø! 

Blitzø is a mixed imp, his father being from Greed and his mother being from Lust. As such he’s a very poor mix of bad traits. He’s hypersexual (to the point of disturbing others), greedy as fuck (as he underpays Millie and Moxxie), is greatly attached to and possessive of those he likes (hence his smothering of Loona and stalking of M&M), and tends to think with his dick in most situations which get him into quite a few pickles (hehe pickle) 

Alright, so personality wise he is just about the same. He shits on others, is generally an ass and not very shy about it, but one thing I want to change is his delivery. This Blitzø is much more jovial about what he’s doing, putting on an act of being very charming and playful, even when he insults people. Ex, the line in the pilot when he mentions Moxxie crushing his dreams would include a very childish pout and a chuckle after. He plays the things he says off as jokes so it gives him an air of... idk like you don’t know when he’s ever being serious. 

He grew up in a circus in Greed along with his twin sister Barbie Wire (side note if Blitzo was my og creation he would have a pun/type name like Barbie does. Too tired to come up with one now, but mainly just because Barbie Wire is a much more creative name than fucking Blitzo) and his mother, who was dying day by day. His father was the ring leader and used his children as props to make money. Blitzo was a double act with Barbie Wire where they would do tricks on trained horses before Barbie started wanting to do trapeze and Blitzo was paired with Fizz instead to do acrobatics and tell jokes. 

Now since we don’t know what the fuck happened in Blitzo’s past (despite being on fucking season 2) I’m going to leave this bit open ended until Viv plays her cards then rewrite it into my story.  

So overall I’m not tweaking too much with Blitzo. Maybe instead of being a woobie who is like oh woe is me I suck he is just an overt asshole who sort of wants to be better but that’s too much work.  

His relationship with Stolas is a can of worms and I fucking hate worms. Alright, so we’re scrapping the childhood buddies thing, and going full force into what we all were shown in the pilot – this powerful demon is banging Blitzo in exchange for the Grimoire. Now real quick, why doesn’t Blitzo use Asmodean crystals? In this I'm making it so only lust demons can bond with crystals (bonding meaning only that demon can use them) and unbound crystals can’t leave Lust. So Blitzo would have to go to Lust and buy one, which is expensive as fuck and he was too broke at the time he struck the deal with Stolas. He’s planning on ditching Stolas as soon as he has enough cash to buy a crystal for IMP to use. 

So Stolas and Blitzo are both using each other, neither of them are like “omg I think he likes me”. Stolas wants sex to fuel his imp fetish and Blitzo wants the book. Blitzo has every intention of cutting this off as soon as he gets the crystal, and in his mind is only really indulging some rich brat demon. The issue comes when Blitzo finds himself actually liking Stolas – he likes the owl’s stupid spiels about literature and space and herbs, he likes that Stolas tells him helpful things with no prompting (like how certain herbs can treat injuries and things like that), and he finds himself liking Stolas’s company. Which is a big problem if he wants to cut the demon off, so he starts trying to get that in gear. This is also while being constantly reminded how unlovable he is and how he ruins everything he touches, but he’s conflicted because Stolas has started to treat him kindly and refer to him like an acquaintance rather than a sex toy. 

Any I'm tired af, going to bed. 

Oh, but before I go I just want to say that now that I’ve finished the IMP gang, I’m taking a minor break from reworking Helluva and will be posting some RWBY redesigns I’ve made because I fucking hate RWBY but at the same time it’s like my childhood. I’ll tag anything Rwby I'm doing as Rwby Rework if you’re interested, but don’t worry I’ll continue to do more viv/helluva/hazbin later this month! 

Thanks for reading <3

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi, Miss Raven! What're your thoughts on the new characters' designs and the new cards we're getting?

[You can see the designs for the Halloween 2023 cards and other related TWST news here!]

I'll post my general thoughts below! I unfortunately don't know enough about Pinocchio myself to point out all the little easter eggs in their outfits, so I'll leave that to those who are more knowledgeable than me.

***Spoilers below the cut!!***

Regarding the NRC boys' looks overall, I think it's a very fun theme and very fitting for the location of the event. I like that they all still wear masks, just in a different context than in Glorious Masquerade. One thing I did notice is that the masks seem... same-y? Like they all resemble thick tree roots or something like that. So maybe they aren't masks at all, but they're associated with whatever the conflict in the story is. (I previously suggested mind control or the loss of consciousness, so maybe the "roots" play into that???) You can see the marionette theme Yana was going for, as well as some design elements from Black Butler's circus arc, very clearly. The poses for each of the boys, even the R cards, are extremely dynamic and imply a strong sense of movement. The ribbons are such a simple detail that contributes a lot to this sense of whimsy and flow.

Some comments I have on specific designs and poses:

Suspenders are so... Trey 💀 THERE'S REALLY NOTHING ELSE FOR ME TO ADD HERE, THEY JUST SUIT HIM

I like it when Trey makes these kind of slightly sus but plausibly deniable faces... He should make more of them...

I can't see the front of Jack's outfit that well, so I don't know if I can fully comment on it??? But I can see his. Like. Physique... coming through... That chest to waist ratio/j

Seeing Jack's tail like that kinda weirds me out. I think that's the first time we've gotten a "full" view of how the tails look coming out of the pants??? So maybe I'll get more used to it with time...

J WORD MY BELOVED dghgqwktvwukdviu1vdutw1513FR7vuofOTVUofvfaafvfyivs.,bk;mobsdb;ibuafetvuqoffSEythTOTqebivfguovqnafCUtuiUIEtt please ignore my bias 🤡 The way his top hat is angled and how there's a dark blue ribbon around him... It vaguely looks like he's trying to pass as Crowley, LOL

I like how his undershirt is frilled and how he has that sash at his waist it reminds me of the genderbent design for my TWST OC! The fact that both he and Floyd have the eel emblem that resembles a heart is also really cute~

Lilis is my favorite design of the R cards!! There's a very good distribution of ruffles throughout the look, and his knotted skirts fit well with his personal flair.

I'm not a huge fan of the style of hat Cater's wearing (sorry to all the Cay-kun stans out there), but I can appreciate his look. His dress appears more militant than Trey's, and his posing is certainly more aggressive--it's nice to see him in this new light.

FHIBBAILAIBASIADIHBLBUDB EVERY TIME I SEE L*ONA NOW I'M GOING TO THINK OF THE ONE REBLOG I SAW THAT SAID "of course leona has his tits out again" BECAUSE THEY'RE RIGHT, HE'S LITERALLY THE GIRLIE THAT DRESSES SLUTTY ON HALLOWEEN AND SOMEHOW NEVER GETS COLD 😭 You go, king... Live your best life!!

Love L*ona-san’s new hairstyle here!! 👀

The way Floyd is posed reminds me of those people that walk around on stilts. I think I much prefer the coloration on Floyd's outfit than on Jade's, but I prefer Floyd's jacket to Jade's. I think Floyd's the best of the SR designs!

Shockingly, Vil's look doesn't stand out to me that much??? I enjoy his sash, but I don't immediately pick up on anything in his illustration that catches my eye.

His pose resembles that of a ballerina, which just makes me think about the time he assigned Epel and Deuce extra (ballet) dance lessons in book 5 ajdbhasivldsadued

Of the SSRs, Ace is definitely my favorite one. He just looks so dramatic soaking up that spotlight and trying to look cool while doing it... Bro's 100% thinking, "heheheheh, I'm SO awesome :))" in his head.

Ace's design also reminds me a lot of Jack Hearts (from Disney Villain Recruiters). Not sure if it was intentional or not, but I'm definitely super into it!

HHNNNNNGNGHGHHGHGNGNGHHGHGHGHGHHHHH I WANNA BITE HIS HEAD OFF AND BULLY HIM SO BAD, I WANNA WIPE THAT SMIRK OF FHIS DUMB FACEe Am I seriously about to revert back to my Brat Loving era for Trappola... Maybe so...

I was pretty much expecting a SSR Ace (because he's a trickster with a brother that works in an amusement park) and Ortho (literally a robot that became a real boy), but Kalim took me by surprise. In hindsight, I guess it makes sense though...? Kalim has a similar immature vibe as the other two (plus I do remember there being this one scene in Aladdin where the Sultan was dressed like a jester that was being maneuvered on puppet strings).

It's great that Kalim gets to be a little out of his usual element and make darker, more mysterious expressions like what we see in his new illustration. I'm not sure if I entirely agree with how he's dressed (the yellow jacket is WAY too bright), but I love his his coattails (???) trail behind him in waves.

OR-KUN MY SON 😭😭😭 As is the case with all of his gears, I adore how the devs creatively adapted clothing into metal parts for Ortho! The half-caplet is easily the best part of the whole look for me (the pattern on it reminds me of stars falling down)--and because Ortho has a smaller stature, the type of hat he's wearing isn't as offputting; it actually looks very cute on him.

ANYWAY, VERY HAPPY THAT ORTHO GETS TO HAVE A HALLOWEEN SSR TO MATCH HIS BROTHER'S HALLOWEEN SSR FROM LAST YEAR... They match!!!

... Is that the fucking cricket on Ortho’s cape... and the goldfish on Kalim’s scarf… AND THE CAT ON ACE’S WAIST… What does this meeeean 🤡

And now for my thoughts on the two new boys!! Honestly?? I don't actually have much to comment on in this regard because I try to reserve my judgment of characters until I've actually seen them in action. I haven't seen Pinocchio either, so I don't have a strong basis for what their personalities would be like based on their original Disney counterpart. I only vaguely understand that Honest John and Gideon trick children into visiting Pleasure Island... That's it, that's the full extent of my knowledge on that pair. I don't have any other expectations going in other than "yeah, these two are going to swindle me".

Gidel looks like a mix of Cheka and Ruggie to me (because of the hair and the eye shape). He seems like he’ll be the other guy’s goon, similar to how Jade and Floyd/Ruggie follow Azul/Leona. Nothing else for me to add, Gidel seems alright… Just a silly lil’ guy!

I have more… mixed thoughts on Ferro. One one hand, he looks like the exact kind of shady bitch I’d love. (You know, the ones that smile and lie and manipulate and drive a knife into your back and—LOOK, HE’S VERY J WORD CORE) On the other hand, I’m beating back the “you like cat/dog boys” allegations from my friends, so 💀 I can’t give in so easily/j

Looks-wise, Ferro’s iteration of the rat tail hair is not as ugly to me as Malleus’s is. (I think it’s because it looks more windswept!) I also really like how he dresses—very dapper 😌 and he can pull off green eyeshadow well!

I’m wondering how they’ll make Ferro different than the other con artists we’ve seen so far *eyes Octavinelle* but I’m keeping my hopes up since the devs did a good job remixing the “I have a dead brother and I feel immense guilt about it” backstory for Rollo (when Idia had a similar one). Looking forward to that~

I’m sure my thoughts will chance once I actually get to see them in the event! ^^ I’ll keep you posted. For now, I’ll keep cautious. (Actually, this fan art basically summarizes my current feelings on the two! I’m Rollo/j)

[soft-mafia]

I wanna climb into Warlord Buggy’s snuggy looking ass outfit. Not even sexually I just feel like it would be real coozy in there and I’m sure there is a way I can fit in there without disturbing the shape and destroying the illusion.

Also just the thought of someone from Crossguild walking in like “Are you alone? We have important things to discu-“ an ominous ruffle of the coat.“Yeah I’m all ears for you, what’s the issue-“ “Well that … is a delicate matter.” “Yeah we’re alone, nobody here but us.” Muffled giggles coming from inside the getup. “I mean this is a discussion that cannot involve eavesdroppers.” “Eavesdroppers?” He repeats in mock surprise. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.” He tugs at his collar and speaks down his neckline. “You seen any eavesdroppers around freakshow?” The insult spoken with the same saccharine fondness that’s usually reserved for mush like “sweetiekums”. A laugh bellows back at him, descending into a giggle. „Nope!“ „See! Nobody in here but us“ More laughter from inside the coat, before he finally deflates himself and helps you out of his circus tent of a disguise. Slaps your ass as you leave for good measure.

HELLLPP IT WOULD BE COZY OMGG

I feel like I could just fall asleep in there and Buggy would just forget LMAOO

[mediumgayitalian]

part one

— — —

Reyna meets them right inside the borders, arms open wide the second she catches Nico’s eye. He leaves the rest of his friends to argue with Terminus – Nico stopped listening very quickly – and sprints right to her, nearly bowling her over with his enthusiasm. She laughs, holding her ground, but wraps her arms so tightly against him, squeezing, and she smells like wool and sunshine and her clementine shampoo, and just barely, chocolate. 

“I missed you,” he whispers into her shoulder, and instead of responding she just holds him tighter. 

Sometimes touch makes his skin crawl – hardly, anymore, with how touchy his friends are. Sometimes he has to remind himself that a hand on his shoulder is friendly, not trying to restrain him, that whatever annoying person who is ruffling his hair is fond of him, not mocking.

He doesn’t have to remind himself of anything with Reyna. Her touch is familiar. Her hold means safety, her hold means I watched out for you, kid, and never stopped. Her touch feels like Bianca’s, like someone who has seen him at his worst and angriest and not only loves him but respects him. 

“Hazel’s riding Arian,” she says, clearing her throat and reluctantly pulling away. 

Nico swipes quickly at his face and pretends he doesn’t want to tuck himself right back under her chin. (He is happy with his choice. Despite what he expected, he loves Camp Half-Blood. It’s home, now, in a way Camp Jupiter was never going to be. But his sisters – both of them – are his home, too, and it aches something horrid being away from them for so long.)

“Frank’s trying to chase after her, but he’s running out of fast animals, so it might be a minute.”

Nico cracks up at that image. It was clearly Reyna’s intention, because she grins, and continues, “He tried to dive after her as a falcon when they were running along the Bay, but he missed and nearly drowned himself. Or so claim the rumours, Kahale has been watching from the towers for the past hour at least.”

“Thank you for this. I’ve run out of things to give him shit for, lately, I needed that.”

“Anytime.” She flicks her gaze over at his crew of dumbasses, who have not, in fact, managed past the border in the ten or so minutes since Nico ditched. In fact, their whining and arguing is drawing a bit of a crowd. 

Or maybe that’s Leo and Lou Ellen, who have given up trying to get through and are amusing themselves by making a mini firework show. Will seems to be the only one still actually arguing with Terminus, long arms flailing as he tries to convince the god to let them in. (Well, one arm is flailing. The other is clenched in the back of Cecil’s shirt, preventing him from running off to do Zeus knows what). Piper is next to him, possibly by virtue of charming their way in, but she appears to be occupied with teaching Kayla and Austin some kind of clapping game. 

“We should probably go collect your circus.”

“I mean, we could also walk away,” Nico offers, even as he follows her towards them. “They’re capable people.” He pauses, thinking back to the sheer number of rest stops they were kicked out of on the way here. “Kind of.” And fast food restaurants. “Mostly.” And, notably, one public park. “Well, whatever. I’m sure they can figure themselves out. If we go to the cafe now, we’ll have hot chocolate to rub in Cecil’s face by the time they finally argue their way in.”

Reyna says nothing, although her mouth twitches. “Terminus,” she calls, when they’re close enough. All the squabbling and fireworks and general ruckus stops as everyone turns to look at her. “These are friends, who have come to visit. Why are they being detained?”

“Detained?!” Will squawks. “Try held hostage!”

“Back in my day you’d be whipped for your attitude, boy, why I should –”

“Oh, go ahead, Bucky Barnes, I’m real scared –”

“Your man is going to get himself smited,” Reyna comments.

Nico sighs. “He gets himself almost smited a lot, actually.” It takes him a moment to clock the entirety of Reyna’s sentence, in which time her smile becomes evil and Nico’s face matches the hue of Apollo’s sun cows. “And he’s not my man! Why would you say that! What does that even m –”

“Terminus,” Reyna says again, visibly snickering, “this group has my permission to enter the borders.”

Terminus grumbles, but he knows better to defy her. There’s a brief shimmer to the air, and then the seven of them scamper inside before Terminus changes his mind.

“What have we come to,” Terminus mutters. Will sticks his tongue out behind his head.

As the group follows Reyna and Nico towards the city, Nico squeezes her hand once and ducks back to join Will, who is still pouting. He couldn’t help his smile if he tried.

“What happened to civil relationships, Mr Diplomacy?”

“It’s not my fault!” Will cries. Nico ducks slightly to avoid his hand before he’s smacked in the face – he’s gotten smacked enough times by Will’s dramatic gesturing to become well-used to avoiding it. “I was polite, I requested entry, I had our papers, he was just a dick!”

“I think you maybe just don’t get out enough,” he says, biting the corner of his mouth to keep from laughing. It’s hard, because Will’s eye genuinely twitches. “I think Chiron was right, man. You need to be re-socialised.”

He can’t quite keep his shoulders from shaking as Will’s jaw clenches. It’s just – he is so so easy to wind up. He really is. The second you learn what buttons to push, they’re big and bright red and begging to be abused. Nico didn’t get it in the summer – but by November, he was exchanging looks with Cecil, of all people, and snickering every time they made Will stomp out of the pavilion. 

(It has, of course, nothing to do with the way his face scrunches when he glowers, or the way his blue eyes go dark and a little bit furious and a lot bit sexy. Nothing to do with the growl in his voice when he bites out “I swear to all that is holy, di Angelo,” and shudders zap up Nico’s spine. Obviously. It’s just funny.)

Will opens his mouth – no doubt to let loose a string of insults that would make Mr. D. blush – but before he can let Nico have it, a flash streaks in front of them, and a second later a gust of wind bowls them both over with a yelp.

“Nico!”

Groaning, Nico tries to stand, but finds that he can’t. He glances up and meets Will’s eyes, milimeters from his own, and goes so brightly scarlet that he can hear Reyna’s sharp bark of “Ha!” before she clamps her hand over her mouth to keep her dignity. 

“Get off me, Solace,” he complains, but the effect is significantly lessened when his voice cracks – no lie – thirteen separate times.

Cupid, he thinks, as loudly and pointedly as he can, kill yourself.

“I’m not that heavy,” Will grumbles, getting petulantly to his feet and immediately tripping over the world’s smallest pebble. Nico covers his face and screams, very quietly, just a little. When he finally manages to drag his hands away from his eyes, the face of his sister hovers over him, grinning wickedly, dark eyes glinting.

“Wow,” she whistles, at least having the decency to keep her voice down, “Piper wasn’t kidding. You’re embarrassing.”

“Shut up,” he says halfheartedly. “Just – leave me to die.”

She laughs, and Nico smiles on reflex, because she sounds like twinkling gold bangles on a waving arm. He accepts her hand up and laces them together, squeezing gently. Her smile widens further when he leans over and presses a kiss to her cheek.

“It’s good to see you, bella. Even if you’re mean to me.”

She knocks their heads together gently. “You just make it so easy. You should try not swooning into his arms whenever he so much as smiles at you, it would help your image –”

“My image is fine –”

“ – and I heard something about a sleepover? Unsupervised? In cabin 13 –”

“That was greatly exaggerated! We passed out playing –”

“ – can’t forget the time he laughed so hard he snorted and you walked into a wall and broke your nose –”

“You weren’t even there for that! No one was! How do you –”

“Dear, dear brother,” she says, patting his head patronizingly. He's appalled with himself for leaning into the touch. “There is not a soul – living or dead – that doesn’t know about it. I was IMed by four separate people an hour after it happened.”

“I’m leaving,” Nico announces abruptly. He turns back towards the van. “I’m going back to Dad, I’m literally never leaving my bedroom again –”

“Oh, no you don’t.” She hauls him back after the rest of the group, a few yards ahead of them, still grinning. “Let’s go, Nick Gatsby. I want to watch Aeliana’s eye twitch as a vanful of noisy Greek teenagers cause a ruckus in her restaurant.”

— — —

part three

[strawb3rrystar]

Do you write for Paimon from helluva? If so PLEASE write him x male imp!reader I think it would be so drama filled and I'm just thirsty for the man in general

Ruffling the feathers of royalty.

Pairing: Paimon Goetia x Masc! Imp! Reader

Warnings: Takes place during 'THE CIRCUS', so when Stolas is a child, shade thrown at Paimon's wife (by him), suggestive

Word count: 479

✰Masterlist

You made careful, yet hasty steps along the halls of the palace. Having one room in mind as your goal. You had no time to stop and admire the elegant paints on the wall like you always do. You had to make haste today. It would be very rude to keep a royal waiting.

Your knuckles hit the gold-framed, double doors twice. Swinging open to revel the very tall Ars Goetia himself. He allows you to step into the room, shutting the door behind you.

"I came as soon as I could." You bow your head, Paimon picking you up into his arms. He leans the tip of his beak against your nose.

"Oh how I've missed you, my dear." He mumbles, his eyes closed. The cold-hearted bird did not care for much, but he did care for you.

"It's been a week, sire." You reply, yet you can't help the smile that fills your face.

"A week is too long." He sighs, sitting down in a elegant armchair with you in his lap.

"Where has your wife gone, Pai?" You ask him, feeling comfortable enough to drop some of the professionalism.

"She's taken one of our children off somewhere." He answers, messing with the buttons of your uniform. "You know, I kinda wish that bitch was dead."

You gasp, covering your mouth with your hands "Paimon, that's at terrible thing to say."

"It's true, though. If she were out of the picture, we could do more activities together." He replies, pinching the end of your tail between his talons.

You shiver in delight and lean your head on his shoulder, stroking the feathers on his neck. He grabs your horn suddenly, bringing your face up to his. "You would like that wouldn't you, my dear?"

You nod you head, Paimon tilting your chin up. "Words, darling."

"Yes.. yes sire.. I would like that." You respond, a slight excited quiver in your voice.

"Good, I would too." He nuzzles his beak into your neck, taking in your scent.

"Do you think she'd be mad if she caught us?" You ask, staring at the painting on the wall.

"Who?" He questions, making you roll your eyes. "Your wife."

"Maybe. You're a servant after all." He answers halfheartedly, not really caring about the topic.

"You know, you are much like your son." You observe.

"Which one?" He asks, his head still at your neck.

"Stolas. He's been hanging out with that little Imp kid." You reply fondly.

"I see." Paimon says, having no interest again. You sigh when you notice this.

"Would you like to go back to your room, sire?" You ask him, which finally makes him raise his head.

"Yes, please." He answers as you climb off him, grabbing his wing. The two of you make your way down the elegant hallways once again. This time, hand in hand.

Star's notes -> Oh my god. I love this fucking dilf sm.

(Thank you, sweet anon, for requesting!) (Requests are open!)

Taglist -> @samohxt2-0 @sunshines-bright @astrolovedy | Join the taglist

[her-favorite]

hair troubles; j. valeska (drabble)

(S4) jerome valeska x reader

wc: 1040

a/n: i just thought this would be cute, j’s a cutie in this - posting a drabble while i try and decide what fic to work on

summary: jerome has a bad hair day, so you have to help him.

-

one thing that you can never do to jerome is mess with his hair.

you’d always wake up every morning without him by your side because he was in the bathroom styling it. jerome never woke up early ever since he left the circus, since he realized that he could take the time to sleep in. he used that to his advantage for a while, up until now.

as you padded across the floor towards your shared bathroom in Falcone’s Mansion (where you both and the Legion of Horribles - Jerome’s words - were staying), your feet lead you directly to your boyfriend. he always left the door open for you, saying that “you were always invited,” as he winked and moved his head in the direction of the shower. laughing silently at the memory, you turn a corner and stand in the doorway, watching him.

his ginger hair threaded through his fingers, the gel making it stick up. for once, he wasn’t wearing gloves, something that you loved. he only ever has them off in the morning and at night. he says that he likes the way your skin feels on his hands. it upset you when he started to wear the gloves regularly and when he found out, he teased you endlessly. he still does.

“what’dya want, doll?” jerome’s wacky accent sounded in your ears as a smile spread across your face. as harsh as it may have sounded to any one else that could’ve heard, you knew better than to take it to heart. jerome loved to tease you, whether it was intimately or in a playful manner.

his right hand moved back down to press into the gel and then brought it back up to smooth out into his hair. it cooperated as it stuck up towards the ceiling, matching with the other strands.

“nothing, just watching.” it was the first thing you said since you woke up, your voice scratchy and tired. a slight smile curled at his lips from the way you sounded, finally looking away from his hair in the mirror and towards your reflection. doing so, his hand slipped and smoothed his hair back, resembling the way he used to style it a few years back.

he groans and throws his hands down, smacking the counter. you’ve grown used to his outbursts, though this one was small. usually, you’d let him go through it and not bother him, but that always meant a bad attitude for the rest of the day. walking over to him, you stand to his side and squeeze his arm, grabbing his attention. he doesn’t look at you, but he acknowledges you’re there.

“c’mon, j. sit down, i can fix it.” you’ve never tried to do his hair before, he always made sure no one else touched it. well, when you both weren’t in bed. but you knew that, if jerome had to choose, he’d pick you to trust for his hair, or anything for that matter.

he rolls his eyes and huffs, but sits down on the lid of the toilet seat, his legs spread apart. you stood in between them as your fingers moved through his soft hair, practically making him purr. his hands slithered around your waist, squeezing your skin and moving you closer to him. a smile spreads across your face at the action, happily smoothing his hair up with your hands.

“what are ya doing, toots?” his big hands pinch at your sides, making you squirm. a laugh bubbles from your throat as your hands play with his hair, spiking it up and down in different positions. he tickles your sides lightly and smiles as you try and get out of his grip. "c'mere! what're ya doin' to me, doll face?" he has a cheshire like grin on his face as he talks, but it shows no hostility unlike usual. you quickly snapped him out of his growing sour mood earlier, something that always seemed to surprise you. it was hard dealing with an impulsive, murderous psychopath as a boyfriend, but you wouldn't have changed it for anything.

"i'll fix it, i promise." you laugh and ruffle his hair again. he groans loudly at your action, digging his nails into your skin. “jerome!” you scold, yet his grip on you doesn’t lighten up.

“ya know I don’t like people messing with my hair, gorgeous.” jerome grumbles, but doesn’t stop you. you nod at his words and mumble things under your breath, but he only laughs at the profanities leaving your mouth. “c’mon, sugar, we don’t have all day.” he teases with a smirk on his face. he knows just the right words to get under your skin, making you pull his hair slightly. he groans at the action, closing his eyes. once he opens them again, his smirk widens. “do it again, doll, that felt good.” his laugh reverberates along the walls of the bathroom when you smack his shoulder playfully.

once you finally take the ends of his hair and lift them up, they stay there with the help of the gel on your fingers. jerome plays around with the hem of your shirt as we waits, starting to grow impatient.

“is it done yet?” he whines, looking up at you. jerome, no matter what age, was never a patient person. though, that was pretty obvious.

“just a sec, j.” it leaves your lips naturally, having said those four words more times than you can count. he huffs and looks back down at your shirt, tugging and stretching it as he waits.

“done!” you try to back away from him, but the hold he had on you prevented that. he looks up at you when you exclaim and a smile spreads across his face. he stands straight up and looks back at the mirror, inspecting the style you did.

“it’s perfect, doll!” he yells, his grin growing bigger. “i should make ya do my hair more often.” he turns back around and steps towards you, grabbing you by your waist roughly and tugging you towards him. he leans down and presses a kiss to your lips before pulling away with a gasp.

“i should do your hair now!”

this is going to be difficult.