#continuation

[guardianlegends64]

[Closed RP/Part 2!] Teen Titans Alternate Universe in “Two Powerful Recruits meets Two Powerful Hybrids”

In the Continuation of Two Newly Recruited Titans Reaper Infinite and Luke Nephalem who were both recruited in the Teen Titans in meeting One of the Only Titan Members that was the only one available because of The other members on a Very Tight and Dangerous and also far Mission was Raven but then a few weeks later Raven’s Best and only hybrid friend that she has ever Known for a very long time has Appeared in need of help as Raven never hesitated to help after a Few Months of Recovering their friendship and Waiting for the team to come back but a few more months had passed and it never happened…

Raven Had an idea in Recruiting some New Titans and of course those recruits were Reaper and Luke when they arrived the two were already in love in first sight with Raven and Her Kitsune Hybrid friend as a few weeks had passed reaper and Luke had Grown their relationships with Both Raven and Her Trustworthy Kitsune Hybrid Friend and their relationships were at the top of the charts for Marriage…

Then a Few Days Later both Reaper and Luke married Raven and Her Kitsune Hybrid Friend as well as Reaper and Luke’s Parents had Visited for their wedding until One of the Team members Starfire had came back safely notifying that the Rest are Alive and well but they’re still very busy…

Both Reaper And Luke are now Married to Raven and Her Kitsune Hybrid Friend but their adventure is not over just yet...as things just got a whole lot worse for the safety of the whole city and Possibly the earth…

“Reaper: So We still have some work left in the city.. but hey The Ceremony was fantastic though I don’t know if these work assignments will be easy..”

“Luke: They will and we will be ready for them! Though for now let’s Celebrate our marriage even though I Think you’re right There’s still bad crime in this city”

“Charlotte: But You Boys Are going to have to take care of your wives as well”

“Death: Relationship is also important as well Son so Please be Protective and Kind and Caring…and also-“

As Their Conversation is interrupted something has Horribly happened as a few Prisoners from black gate had escaped and one of them are already Making Havoc and destruction in the City as it was…

[phobic-human]

Only The Revolutionaries Continue The Struggle

Popular Front For The Liberation of Palestine - General Command (PFLP-GC)

Artist: Ghazi Inaim

Circa 1986

[villain-enthusiast]

Hi Hello!! Would you please continue the snippet of villain finding hero dying? A lot of whump and caretaking would be great! (By the way.. just wanted to say this...I love your work!!)

so glad u enjoyed! hope this is also to your liking ☺️

part one

.

The hero came to with a start.

They shifted, groaning as their stiff muscles and joints ached. But they noticed that their body was comfortable, sinking into a soft mattress and swaddled in thick blankets—

Wait, what?

They blinked several times as fragmented memories flashed through their head, The blinding pain of the stab wound. Their broken comms. Blood, too much blood. They were going to die without help…

The villain. The villain finding them in the alleyway, gathering them up in their arms—

“You’re awake.”

The hero jolted, head whipping to the bedside, where the villain had apparently stood up from the chair behind them.

How long had they been waiting there?

They moved to prop themselves up, but the villain’s hands were immediately on their shoulders, gently urging them back down onto the stupidly comfortable bed.

“Don’t move too much. You’ll break the stitches,” the villain warned. They pulled the blanket covering the hero’s torso away to examine the bandages wrapped around their side.

It was then the hero realized that they had been scrubbed clean and given a new pair of sweatpants, every cut and scratch from their recent altercation carefully dressed.

Their eyes met the villain’s in silent questioning.

You did all this for me?

“I swear I didn’t look,” the villain blurted suddenly. “When I was bathing and changing you. I didn’t—.” They cut themselves off awkwardly, cheeks a little pink.

Oh, that’s not… Despite themselves, the hero smiled, or what they could attempt as a smile. Their jaw was incredibly sore from being socked twice in one day.

They opened their mouth to speak, to tell the villain that it was fine and that what they really meant was thank you—

The villain shushed them. “You have some bruising on your neck. It’ll hurt to talk. You should just rest.”

The hero scowled at them. “I—,” they attempted, and immediately regretted their choice as their swollen throat flared up.

The villain gave them a "told you so" look, and the hero leveled another glare at them.

It suddenly occurred to the hero how helpless they were. Can't move, can't speak. If the villain wanted to kill them, now would be the chance. Luring them into a false sense of security, giving them one last taste of comfort before—

“I just saved your fucking life. Stop looking at me like that.”

The hero frowned. Like what? they mouthed.

“Like you think I’m gonna kill you or something. I can be a half-decent person sometimes, y’know," the villain said. Their expression softened. “I’m not a monster.”

The villain's gaze flickered with something the hero couldn't quite place as they watched each other in comfortable silence. It was an understanding, in that moment, that the villain was not going to kill them, and that they had meant everything they said and more.

I couldn’t just leave you to die in that alleyway.

The villain sighed and turned to leave the room. Panic shot through the hero—they needed to say something to the villain, damn their throat—and before they could think twice about it, they reached out and took the villain’s hand in their own. Rough calluses from what was likely decades of training scraped against their palm.

The villain stared at them, but they didn’t pull away. Their fingers wrapped gently around the hero’s, cautious. Expectant.

“Thank you,” the hero croaked, “for saving me.”

The villain was silent for several heartbeats, watching the hero with those dark—so beautifully dark—eyes.

They took a breath, as if readying themselves for whatever they were going to say. “You mean too much to me," they finally said, voice low. "I'm not ready to let you go." Their hand lingered on the hero's, as if to seal their statement, to make a promise and keep it.

Then they released their hold, and the hero wished they could tell them to stay—that they wanted them to stay—but the villain was already closing the door behind them, and fatigue overtook them before they could process anything else.

When the hero awoke the next morning, the villain was nowhere to be found. But in the chair by their bedside, they found a fresh set of clothes, a cup of water, and a note:

Be back soon. - Villain

And though their jaw still ached, the hero smiled, fully and wholly.

[tzitzimitl-eztli]

Add on to my last ask: Maybe Freddy is cold too, and they warm each other up!

andd the next part the continue of the lost child - warm

[gu1destuck]

GUIDESTUCK IS BACK!

Yep! You read that right! guidestuck is OFFICIALLY OFF HIATUS AND UNDER A NEW TEAM!!!

welcome to guidestuck^3!

Thanks to our director, @gewbz we can finally continue the beloved series! we have the first few panels up and we now have an ost in the making! please come join us in this journey as we continue to work our best for you guys in guidestuck^3!

Thank you, Goodbye! - Harvey

[pixel-p-0-p]

Yapper x Listener

Inspired by this scene😍😍

[expectodeer]

Happy Endings

dedicated to @potterheadlovespotter (hope you like it <3)

Peaceful Wakeups II

“Do you believe in happy endings?"

The ringing in your ears quieted as you turned toward the voice, lifting your head from Harry's shoulder. Rubble surrounded you, and dust clung to both your skins, settling in every crease and fold like ash. The Great Hall was filled with survivors, moving and murmuring in a daze, but none of it felt real.

They had done it. Voldemort was gone. The war was over. And yet the acid in your throat, the one that had risen the moment you stepped back into Hogwarts, refused to leave.

Everything around you seemed distant, suspended in a dream you couldn’t wake from. You didn’t feel real. You weren’t sure if you ever would again.

Harry’s voice had barely broken the air when he spoke. His eyes were fixed on the bodies being carried from the room, the light in them dimmed and washed out. Your gaze followed his, and that burn in your throat deepened, spreading through you like something toxic.

His arm stayed wrapped around you, his hand pressed tightly to your shoulder, and though you could feel it, the sensation was muted. It was too comforting, too grounding.

You forced yourself to swallow.

“Do you?”

The words slipped from your mouth, soft and uncertain, hanging in the quiet space between you. You turned to look at him again, searching his face, unsure what you hoped to find. The green of his eyes looked darker than usual in the dimming light, and his skin was littered with cuts and bruises, each one caked with soot and dried blood.

He looked different now.

His cheeks were hollow, lips graying. His face had thinned so much it almost didn’t look like him. For a moment, you wondered if he really was alive.

Your stomach twisted.

Your mind went back to that moment, just before he slipped from Hagrid’s arms. When Voldemort announced him dead. When McGonagall screamed, so loud it felt like the walls should have shattered. When your breath caught in your throat and didn’t return, and the sound in your ears grew so sharp and overwhelming that you couldn’t hear anything else. When the cold had crept into your bones and made a home there.

You weren’t sure if you had stopped breathing by choice or by instinct.

You weren’t sure how you ever started again.

His fingers tightened on your shoulder, drawing you back to the present. He turned toward you slowly, and the movement made something sink inside your chest. His face was too pale, too quiet. The grey in his skin made the ruins around you seem more vibrant by comparison. But his eyes, though dulled for hours, now flickered with something small and warm. Like the reflection of a flame in still water.

His thumb brushed gently across your skin.

“Not really,” he said, voice hoarse and rough. He didn’t look away. “But I…”

The words caught, and his expression shifted. He closed his eyes for a moment, eyebrows knitting together as he drew a slow, unsteady breath. When he opened them again, he leaned forward, pressing his lips softly to your forehead. He lingered there before resting his head against yours.

“I could have lost you today,” he whispered, his voice tight with emotion. “If happy endings exist, it’s because I got a second chance at a life with you.”

Your breath hitched, and a tremble moved through you as the sting behind your eyes grew stronger. You wanted to blame the dirt, the dust, the smoke still hanging in the air, but your shaking shoulders and the quiet hiccup that escaped your lips betrayed the truth.

Harry’s arms closed around you, pulling you closer, his hand slipping into your hair as you broke. You cried into his shoulder, letting the sobs come, breathing in the scent of battle still clinging to his clothes.

For the first time in hours, you could feel again. The air touched your skin. His warmth held you. His breath brushed your cheek. Your heart was beating.

So was his.

And for the first time, you began to wonder.

Maybe happy endings were possible after all.

—

Four Months Later.

Harry rubbed his hands over his pants, his heart beating wildly in his chest. Sweat glistened across his neck and forehead in the fireplace lighting as he stood nervously in the living room, anxiously checking the placements of the flowers and candles.

Sweat clung to his palms and his body burned like he was standing in the fire. He let out a few quick breaths, closing his eyes as he swallowed the bile in his throat.

What if it's too soon?

His stomach twisted and he brought a fist to his hair, his chest constricting as he took in a deep breath.

The image of you flooded his mind. Your smile, growing ever brighter as the pain of war faded into memory, and the way your eyes sparkled like his own private constellation. A quiet warmth washed over him, settling deep into his bones.

"I'm going to marry you one day," his voice echoed, young and naive, spoken before the fire of his prophecy took hold of his fate. Back when your touch was playful, haunted by nothing heavier than fairytales.

“Promise?”

“I swear it."

The front door opened with a soft click, startling him. He turned just as you stepped inside, your head lowered, eyes fixed on the leather-bound book in your hands. Too caught in thought, you slipped off your jacket without noticing the boy watching you, his heart burning like fire in his chest.

"How was Luna?"

Your head snapped up at the sound of his voice. Candlelight bathed the walls in gold, casting a gentle glow over the flowers and petals scattered throughout the room. Your knees wavered, breath catching in your throat.

Something warm bloomed inside you. As your eyes moved slowly across the room, surprise and wonder stirred within you, until they found his. Just a few steps away, his green eyes held you still, steady and soft, like he had been waiting for this moment all along.

“Harry?” you breathed, unsure if he was real or just something your heart had imagined.

His hand trembled as he reached for you, a shaky breath escaping his lips. He gave you a small smile. Wobbly, uncertain, and somehow powerful enough to strike something deep inside you.

Your bag slipped from your elbow and hit the floor, followed by the book of fantastical creatures Luna’s new boyfriend had given you.

You stood still for a moment, heart racing, before closing the short distance between you. Gently, you placed your hand in his. His skin was soft, warm beneath your touch, and his eyes held you steady as the room seemed to fall away.

He took a slow breath, trembling fingers brushing along your jaw, and for a moment you swore your heart might burst from your chest.

"Hi," he whispered, his touch featherlight.

You blinked, a giddy smile tugging at your lips before you could stop it.

"Hi?"

"So, how was Luna’s?"

The repeated question caught you off guard, your eyes flicking between his. The candlelight turned his emerald gaze into a forest of green and gold, the flecks glowing like something only you were ever meant to see.

Your throat felt dry, and the warmth rising in your chest spread through your limbs, making your skin tingle.

"I… good," you said softly, your voice barely more than a breath. "She made cranberry pie.”

A quiet hum left him as he swallowed, his gaze still locked on yours. If you were right about what he was about to do, then this was him trying to steady his nerves, letting your presence settle the chaos he was carrying.

You let his gaze hold yours, letting yourself fall into him for a few moments. His grip tightened now and then, as if he needed the grounding, but eventually, the pounding in your chest became too much to ignore.

“Harry, what’s going on? What is all this?”

He took a deep breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before his shoulders eased into a calmer posture. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he looked at you, then stepped back slightly, gesturing around the room.

“This… is me keeping my promise.”

Your brows drew together as he turned to the fireplace mantel and picked up a torn leather journal. His fingers glided over the worn edges, and something in you stirred.

You recognized it.

It was the same journal he wrote in during the hunt for Horcruxes. The one he never let anyone read. Not even you.

“Is that…?”

You stepped forward slowly. He glanced up and gave a small nod.

“Yeah. It got a little ruined, but…”

His hand brushed across his bottom lip before he stepped closer again, now standing directly in front of you. He swallowed hard, his eyes locking with yours.

“I lied,” he said, voice low and rough. “There aren’t any plans in here. No strategies. No theories. At least, not about Horcruxes. Or Voldemort. Or any of it.”

Your lips parted, confused.

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“No,” he said gently, “I think you do.”

He reached for your hand and placed it over the journal. You curled your fingers around it, letting him guide it into your grasp. But your eyes never left his.

“Open it,” he whispered.

You inhaled, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you carefully opened the book. The leather creaked softly beneath your fingers.

On the very first page was your name, written in his messy but beautiful handwriting. You’d always thought your name looked loveliest when he said it or when you saw it in his writing.

You traced it lightly, your hand trembling. Your teeth caught your bottom lip as you swallowed, then turned the page.

14 September 1991

The day I finally had the courage to talk to Y/N Y/L/N.

She was wearing this soft yellow dress with tiny daisies along the hem, like she’d stepped out of a herbology handbook.

Her boots were scuffed and muddy, probably from following Professor Sprout through the greenhouses again. I remember wondering if she even noticed the mess, or if she liked the feeling of dirt under her soles.

There was a streak of soil on her cheek, and a leaf caught in her hair. She didn’t seem to mind either.

I think I stared too long. She caught me once, but she just smiled and kept rambling to Sprout about some magical seedling I couldn’t pronounce. I didn’t understand half the words, but I remember the sound of her voice. It was fast and warm and full of life.

I told her I needed help in Charms. I didn’t. I had finished the assignment the night before. But I needed an excuse. I needed a reason to hear her speak to me the way she spoke to the plants. And when she looked up, bright-eyed and eager, and said “Of course I’ll help,” I felt something shift.

She sat beside me on the grass later that day. Our robes got damp and I didn’t care. I don’t think she did either. She smelled like vanilla and honeysuckle. I kept pretending not to understand the lesson just to keep her talking.

It’s strange, really. I’ve fought monsters. I’ve faced death. But to this day, nothing scared me more than asking her for help with a spell I already knew.

—

Your eyes fluttered as you flipped through the pages, date after date slipping past your fingers like falling leaves. The sting behind your eyes returned, that familiar blur rising as you blinked quickly to keep the tears at bay.

Every page held pieces of you. Little moments, quiet memories, things you thought no one would remember.

But he had.

He remembered everything.

7 June 1994

I don’t know why I said it. Or maybe I do. Maybe I’ve always known.

I told Y/N I was going to marry her.

We weren’t even really dating yet. Not officially. But I think we both knew. There was something about us that felt settled, like it had already been decided long before we ever said it out loud.

She looked so pretty that day. A little tired, still aching, her arm tucked in a sling from the night before, but there was this light in her. She still smiled like she wasn’t hurting. Like helping me had been worth it.

It was the night we saved Sirius. The night I thought I might lose her. That feeling, watching her run into danger just because I was there, it stayed with me. It never really left.

The next morning, she sat down beside me on the grass. She didn’t say anything at first, just leaned into the quiet like she always did. And then she gave me that smile. The one that unravels everything, and I knew I could spend a lifetime chasing it.

So I said it.

“I’m going to marry you one day.”

She blinked, then laughed. Not because she didn’t believe me, but like she hadn’t expected it to come so soon. Then she looked at me, serious all of a sudden, and made me promise.

I didn’t even hesitate.

—

“You were still wearing those awful brown boots that day.”

Harry’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper, as he watched your finger trace along the page. Your tear-glossed eyes lifted to meet his, and he gave you that smile. The one that always made your stomach flutter, no matter how many times you’d seen it.

He reached up and gently wiped a tear from your cheek. You hadn’t even realized you were crying.

“Harry…”

His thumb lingered softly against your skin as he spoke again, his voice barely more than breath.

“I needed to write it all down. Just in case.” His gaze shimmered, and through your blurry vision, you saw it. The mist in his eyes. “If anything happened to me, I needed you to know what you meant to me. That I never loved anyone the way I love you.”

You inhaled sharply, trying to swallow the knot rising in your throat. No words came. It felt like your voice had been sealed away, caught under the weight of everything you were feeling.

Harry didn’t wait for you to speak. His hands moved gently over the journal, turning the pages with care until he found the one he was looking for, near the back.

You looked down as he stopped.

Your breath caught.

If We Get Tomorrow

1. Propose.

2. Build a life with her.

3. Wake up beside her every day.

4. Make her laugh for the rest of my life.

5. Never let go.

You gasped softly as your eyes fell to the bottom of the page.

Y/N Y/L/N, I’m going to love you forever.

When you looked up, the air caught in your throat. Harry was already reaching into his pocket, slowly pulling out a small box as he sank down on one knee. Your legs wobbled beneath you as you closed the journal with trembling hands, letting it fall to your side.

He opened the box with care, revealing a ring, delicate and steady in his shaking fingers.

“I told you once that if happy endings exist, it’s because I got to live this life with you,” he said, his voice low and unsteady. “And I meant it. You’re my happy ending, Y/N.”

You brought a hand to your mouth, trying to stop the sound that rose in your throat. Tears spilled freely now as you slowly sank to your knees, letting the journal slip from your grasp.

The ring shimmered in the candlelight, but it wasn’t what held you in place. It was his eyes. Clear and green and full of something that felt like forever.

“Will you marry me?” he whispered.

You couldn’t speak. Your voice was caught somewhere between disbelief and joy, and all you could do was nod, wiping at your eyes with your sleeve.

“Harry,” you finally breathed, your voice cracking. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

He exhaled, long and deep, like he’d been holding that breath for years. Then he smiled. It was bright and boyish, pure in a way you hadn’t seen in so long.

He reached for your hand and slid the ring onto your finger, his touch soft and reverent.

“You have no idea how scary that was.”

You let out a tearful laugh, still wiping your cheeks as he leaned in and pulled you close. His hands cradled your face as his lips met yours. The kiss was warm and salty from the tears, but soft and certain, like everything had finally fallen into place.

“I’m going to love you forever,” you whispered against his lips, the words trembling with truth, echoing the ones he had written with shaking hands and a hopeful heart.

He didn’t speak right away. Instead, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed, like he was memorizing the moment. His fingers brushed softly along your bottom lip, tender and slow, as if grounding himself in your presence.

“Promise?” he asked, barely more than breath, but everything in him was in that question.

“I vow it,” you murmured.

Bonus Scene:

7th June 1994

You hopped down the steps of the courtyard, your left arm resting carefully in a sling. It didn’t hurt much anymore, not after Madame Pomfrey worked her magic, but it was still too weak to use, which frustrated you more than you’d admit.

Then again, that was the least of your worries right now.

Harry could barely look you in the eyes after last night.

You shouldn’t have been surprised. After three years of knowing him, you should’ve recognized the guilt in his shoulders the moment your arm made that awful crunch. You’d jumped in front of him when Professor Lupin struck, and yet you were sure Harry had spent the night blaming himself.

You didn’t. Not for a second.

You weren’t exactly sure what you and Harry were at this point in time. It was clear you liked each other, too many lingering glances and half-spoken what ifs had made that obvious, but whatever it was seemed to press heavier on Harry’s shoulders than yours.

Like caring about you came with a weight he wasn’t sure how to carry.

Your boots crunched quietly against the grass as you crossed the courtyard, scanning the edges just like Ron told you to. He said Harry had wandered out here an hour ago, quiet and far away in that way only Harry could be.

Your feet ached a little as you walked. The boots were starting to get too small, pinching at the toes with every step, but they were too cute to let go. And they were your favorites.

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you spotted him. He was sitting alone near the fountain, knees pulled up, fingers weaving blades of grass through each other in slow, nervous movements. The light caught in his glasses, and his hair was messier than usual, like he’d run his hands through it one too many times.

He looked up just as you approached.

And for a second, he looked like he might run.

You held your breath, standing still for a moment before taking a few quiet steps forward. He didn’t move, just sat there frozen. As you got closer, he looked away, turning his gaze to the concrete path as if it held the answers he couldn't find in you.

The soft flutter of wings echoed above as a few birds passed by, their flight the only thing moving in the stillness between you.

You lowered yourself beside him in the small patch of grass, careful not to jostle your sling. Your right shoulder brushed his, light but certain, and still, you weren’t sure what to say. The silence lingered.

Harry shifted beside you, his shoulders rising with a deep, uneven breath. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him part his lips, like he was about to speak, but he paused.

You let your hand settle between you, your pinky brushing gently over his.

“I’m sorry,” he finally breathed, the words slipping out like something he’d been holding for too long. “I…”

You turned toward him in surprise, eyes wide. He looked at you helplessly, words caught in his throat.

Amusement stirred in your belly. You couldn’t help it. You covered your nose as a quiet laugh escaped. Shaking your head, you gave him a smile, one that softened the sting of the moment.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that, right?”

Harry blinked, stunned, his mouth still slightly open. His green eyes stayed on you, wide and searching, as if he didn’t know what to do with your laughter.

His cheeks darkened.

You tilted your head, smile still curving your lips.

“What?” you asked, voice soft.

He simply shook his head, a quiet smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as his finger gently hooked around yours. The gesture was small, but it sent something fluttering through your chest.

He cleared his throat, and curiosity flickered in your eyes.

There was something different in his expression. A quiet kind of awe. Like he was seeing something he didn’t fully understand but never wanted to look away from.

Then, without hesitation, the words slipped from his lips. Soft, certain, and completely unshaken.

“I’m going to marry you one day.”

Your eyes widened, and you leaned back just slightly, taking in the boy beside you. He wasn’t joking. There was no hesitation in his eyes, no smirk on his lips. Just quiet sincerity, raw and real.

“Where did that even come from?” you asked, voice breathless, a smile already tugging at your mouth.

Harry didn’t answer. He just kept looking at you like he was memorizing the way the light hit your face, like the words had slipped out before he could stop them but now that they were out, he had no regrets.

And then, without warning, laughter bubbled up in your chest. It wasn’t mocking or disbelieving. It was startled, giddy, so full of warmth and surprise that you had to cover your mouth with your hand to keep it from spilling out too loud.

You shook your head slowly, your grin threatening to split your face in two.

“Promise?”

He blinked, the question catching him for a moment. His lips parted like he wanted to say more, but instead, he just stared at you with something like wonder. Then he nodded, eyes never leaving yours.

“I swear it.”

You looked down at your hands, his pinky still hooked around yours, and something inside you softened.

“Good,” you whispered, leaning in closer until your head rested on his shoulder. “You better keep it… or you’ll regret it.”

Harry drew in a slow, shaky breath. He turned his head slightly, his breath ghosting over your hair before he closed his eyes and rested his head against yours.

“I’m really sorry about your arm,” he said quietly.

You lifted your head, startled by the way his voice cracked ever so slightly. His expression was unreadable. It was calm on the surface, but something behind his eyes was breaking.

“Harry…” you murmured, searching his face. “That wasn’t your fault.”

He looked at you, and the weight in his eyes made your breath catch.

“I should have protected you better.”

You frowned, heart aching at the self-blame you saw etched into every line of his face.

“That’s not your responsibility,” you said, voice soft, almost pleading.

But he shook his head once, slow and certain, and brought a hand to your face, cupping your cheek with such care it nearly undid you.

“Yes it is,” he said, this time firmer. His eyes didn’t waver. “You got hurt because I was too slow. Because I hesitated. And I know people keep saying it’s not my fault, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

He paused, swallowing hard, his thumb brushing over your skin like he was afraid he might lose you just by speaking the truth.

“I don’t ever want to see you in pain again. Not because of me. Not if I can stop it.”

Your eyes flickered between his, surprise etched across your face. Your lips parted, caught off guard, as you leaned back just enough to take him in fully.

There was something different about him now. Not in how he looked, but in the way he held your gaze. Something steadier. Heavier. Like he'd stopped being afraid of how much he felt.

And then his eyes locked harder onto yours, and it hit you like a jolt.

I’m going to marry you one day.

Your breath escaped in a soft exhale, warmth rushing to your cheeks. You could feel the flush spread down your neck, your heart thudding so loudly you wondered if he could hear it.

You looked at him, eyes wide, lips trembling just slightly at the edges.

“…Okay,” you whispered, breathless.

It wasn’t loud or dramatic. Just a word, small and fragile. But it was yours. And it was enough.

He smiled, the kind of smile that didn’t just touch his lips, but softened every line of his face. The kind of smile you knew, even then, you’d remember years later.

He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to.

And maybe it was too soon to know what forever looked like. Maybe the world was still too big and uncertain. But sitting there beside him, shoulder to shoulder in the fading light, your pinkies still linked between you like some unspoken vow, you felt something shift.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t sudden.

It was a quiet knowing. The kind that settled into your bones without asking permission.

You didn’t know when, but one day, Harry would keep his promise. And when he did, you’d say yes, like you’d been waiting your whole life to.

[assortedcriminality]

Thursday - part II

part I

Monday

Civilian woke in the dark, lying under the warm covers of the bed. They blinked, eyes adjusting to their surroundings. A bit of light peeked out from the black curtains on the other side of the room. A glance at the side table, bare save for a small digital clock, told them it was already well past nine. They jerked into a sitting position, a jolt of panic electrifying their body, throwing back the blanket and preparing to jump into an accelerated version of their morning routine. Before they could, the sight of the completely unfamiliar room before them jogged their memory of the previous day.

With a loud sigh, Civilian collapsed backward, tangled hair splaying over the pillow. What a mess. They couldn't believe they'd even agreed to take a message to Villain in the first place. Hero had told them, a lowly assistant with no powers or training, to meet one of the most dangerous criminals in the city with no backup. And, like a total idiot, Civilian had agreed. They should've stood up to them and refused to do it. How did they not see that Hero had something planned? The crime-fighter could easily deliver a letter, there was no reason for them to ask Civilian—except, of course, an ulterior motive. To pay Villain back for whatever deal the two of them had together. It was all so stupid. 

Civilian sat up and pushed the covers back, glancing around at the largely empty space. They didn’t know what they would’ve expected Villain’s guest room to look like, but it was very… gray. Gray walls, gray carpet, gray sheets and blanket. The only furniture aside from the bed and side table was a dresser across the room. Atop it sat an empty flower vase and an envelope. Supposing they might as well get up at some point, Civilian stretched before hopping out of bed, haphazardly tossing the blanket back into place. They crossed the room, picking up the envelope. ‘Civilian’ was written on it in a looping script they never would’ve guessed was Villain’s handwriting. They were learning all kinds of things about their boss’ nemesis. Civilian ripped open the seal and pulled out the folded note. 

Civilian-

I have work to do today and won’t be back until tonight. There are clean clothes in the dresser and you can have anything from the kitchen. I’ve locked the doors and windows and taken out everything with WiFi--it’s for your safety. I don’t think Hero would try anything, but it’s best to be cautious. There are books and DVDs in the living room. Use whatever you want. We can talk when I get back.

Villain 

Civilian set the note down, suddenly uncomfortable. Maybe Hero wasn’t the greatest, but Villain was still on the wrong side. They didn’t want to know what their ‘work’ entailed. Hearing that they were fully locked in the house made their situation more real. They were truly, actually a hostage. A prisoner. Maybe it was for their own good, to pacify Hero and make sure someone else didn’t pay the price for their irritation. But that didn’t make Civilian’s situation any more fun. And neither did the fact that they apparently wouldn’t have any access to the internet for the next three days. 

“Think of it as a screen-free break,” they said aloud. “A totally voluntary vacation with no work and no responsibilities.” It didn’t make them feel much better. 

They picked out dark jeans and a white T-shirt from the dresser and put them on, folding their old clothes and placing them in an empty drawer. After trying a few doors in the hall, they found the bathroom, which Villain had apparently already stocked with toiletries. It was weird to think about the master criminal picking out a toothbrush for them. Hero had always made Villain out to be a monster to Civilian, often mentioning rumors of the terrible things they’d done. Recorded fights between the two looked brutal, each pummeling the other with their powers and fists. Hero was always fiery, literally, anger turning their face redder than the flames shooting from their hands. What made Villain scary was their icy calm, eyes sharply intelligent but bored and uncaring through their mask. 

And now Civilian was looking through that same terrifying criminal’s fridge, which mostly held takeout containers and yogurt. They supposed if Hero could force their own assistant to be their greatest nemesis’ captive, the infamous Villain could enjoy strawberry Yoplait. People were complicated like that.

After finishing a bowl of slightly stale wheat cereal, Civilian started snooping. The house wasn’t enormous, but it was tastefully furnished with expensive-looking decor and appliances. The halls were lined with paintings, several of which Civilian swore they recognized from articles they’d read about recent museum thefts. Most of the doors they tried were locked--in fact, it seemed as though the only rooms Civilian had access to were their room, the kitchen, the living room, and a sitting room with three enormous bookshelves. The books it held were worn, and every one Civilain flipped through was covered in annotations inked in Villain’s neat cursive handwriting. 

Deciding they were too tired to focus on reading, they chose to spend the day watching movies and eating whatever non-expired snacks they could find in Villain’s cabinets. The bin of DVDs in the living room was almost entirely made up of old detective films, with a few rom-coms thrown in. Civilian put in the disc for The Maltese Falcon and sat down on the plush couch, hugging their knees to their chest. They closed their eyes and let the noise from the movie wash over them, trying not to think too hard about their situation. There was nothing they could do about it now. They just had to wait until Villain got back, and maybe they could figure it all out. Maybe it could all be fine. 

* * *

It was past midnight when Villain landed back on their porch, moonlight casting a soft glow over their black hood. They unlocked the door with a quiet click, taking off their disguise as they went in and closed the door securely behind them. They could hear the TV playing quietly inside.

“Civilian, I’m back,” they called as they opened a panel in the wall that hid their suit and placed it inside. “I heard something today that I want to talk to you about.” They slid off their shoes before strolling down the hall and pausing in the living room doorway. “Civilian?” There was no response. Villain flicked on the light, revealing the captive curled up and sound asleep in the corner of the couch, head resting against the cushion. They couldn’t help the smile that tugged at their mouth at the sight. They crossed the room, pressing the power button on the remote to turn off the noir film Civilian had been watching. 

Civilian looked so peaceful like that, their chest slowly rising and falling, their face devoid of any stress or fear. If being Hero’s assistant was as bad as it seemed, maybe this situation was almost a blessing for them. Villain had known Hero for years now, well enough to have an idea of the kinds of things they would put their employees through. Their smile disappeared at the thought. Civilian wasn’t here on vacation. They weren’t here as a punishment, either. They were here because Hero thought it would be fun to meddle in their personal life, to force them to be held prisoner just because they could. And they’d made Villain the warden. 

Villain never should have mentioned their plans for Thursday to Other Villain. They knew better. The city might think the criminals created the masterful schemes, but Hero used everyone as their pawns. They gazed at Civilian’s tranquil expression, hoping the innocent assistant could escape Hero’s web once this was all over. Villain knew that Civilian would be safe as long as they stayed in the house, but they couldn’t account for what Hero might do on Thursday, or when Civilian quit. It was too much to put on someone who didn’t sign up for it, who didn’t even have powers to defend themself. It was Villain’s responsibility to take care of them, protect them--with force, if necessary. It was the least they could do. With a sigh, Villain took a folded blanket from the other side of the couch and gently covered Civilian with it, glancing at them one last time before turning off the light and closing the door behind them. 

“Goodnight, Civilian. Sleep well.” 

Word count: 1432

@sausages-things (sorry I forgot to tag last time!) @chaotic-orphan

[dayas]

MORE OF THIS PLEASEE ITS SO GOOD TELL ME WHAT HAPPENS IN THE WOODS 😭 https://www.tumblr.com/dayas/768628769117372416/8-elphaba-fiyero

Well anon, fortunately I’ve been thinking about this since last night 😵‍💫 let’s go 😁

—

The day drags on. Fiyero checks the clock every five minutes. He can’t help it — how is he meant to focus when all of his thoughts are arranging themselves into the shape of an extraordinary green girl? He huffs out an exhale to try and calm down. The fact that he’s thinking at all is abhorrent. Still, it’s only a few more hours. Those hours clip themselves down, shortening to mere halves. Halves turn to quarters, and quarters into minutes.

Then, at long last, it’s time. Fiyero races from his room, already having stripped off his coat, leaving him only in a light blue shirt, cream pants, and black boots. The path to the forest is well worn and familiar by now; it’s become a safe haven for him, the only place at Shiz he feels he can truly breathe. He hears her arrival before he sees her. She finds him pacing.

“You came.” His words are relieved, even if he doesn’t move from where he stands. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

“I wasn’t sure I would either.”

Her words are barely audible. He wants to go to her, he does, but for the first time in his entire life, Fiyero is worried he might scare someone off. He’d nearly done it before, in the library. He can’t risk it now. So he waits for her.

“Why did you ask me here, Fiyero?” Elphaba says at last, approaching him. His entire body feels as though it’s been doused and lit on fire. With each step she takes, everything grows hotter and hotter.

“You already know the answer to that.”

It’s obvious by now, it has to be. She still doesn’t have to believe him, but he will keep showing her until it sets in. He cannot resist asking her a question.

“Why did you come?”

She’s so close now, as she was before, her chest lightly pressed against him. Half a smile makes its way to her face.

“You already know the answer to that.”

He does. It’s not enough.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Fiyero.”

“Tell me, Elphaba. Why did you come to the woods?”

She’s trembling, he notices, and on instinct, he draws her into his arms. Her whisper coincides with his actions.

“Because I wanted to see you.”

He has to kiss her now, he thinks (that infernal thinking again), because she can’t tell him that and expect him not to act upon hearing it. He moves slowly, so she can see him, bringing his hands up to cup her face gently.

“Can I kiss you?”

His question is soft, spoken into the infinitesimal space between their lips. Her gasp is equally soft, and he tamps down on the urge to swallow it. He feels her nod, her nose skimming his.

“Elphaba. You need to tell me.”

He doesn’t want to risk her permission being a fluke, a figment of his own imagination.

“Kiss me, Fiyero.”

He is more than happy to honor her wish. The kiss is soft, perfectly sweet, short too, because he doesn’t know what she’s comfortable with. It is both shocking and delightful to find her pulling him back to her, kissing him more deeply. Her hand roots itself in his hair and he tugs on her bottom lip in return. He pulls away again, only to shower her neck in kisses and revel in the sound of his name falling from her lips over and over again. Eventually, she pulls his head up, and he’s in the middle of chasing her lips for the umpteenth time when she murmurs, “Wait.” He pauses immediately, searching her eyes with concern.

“I haven’t… I haven’t done this before. Anything like this.”

He can’t say he’s surprised, but he’s incredibly glad she’s chosen him for such an important first experience.

“You’re doing very well for someone entirely new to this.” He kisses her again quickly, beaming when she laughs.

“Be serious.”

“I am! It’s not my fault you’re a natural, Miss Thropp.”

“You’re ridiculous.” She kisses him this time. In turn, he mumbles against her lips, “You’re incredible.”

He is perfectly content losing himself in her for a few more minutes (a small, cursed part of his brain thinks again: for a lifetime, even, he wouldn’t mind being lost for the rest of his life in her). It’s probably for the best that she pulls back, resting her forehead against his. They catch their breath together, the sounds of the forest mixing in with their ragged breathing. He wants to continue, to kiss her senseless, to make her forget everything except for him. But he refuses to ruin this. She deserves better than that.

“What is it?” Elphaba hums, drawing him back to the present. Fiyero’s head shakes, once.

“Nothing important.” Her eyebrows furrow gently.

“I promise,” he adds, kissing the little wrinkle that appears on her forehead.

They remain close together, eventually making their way to the forest floor. She sits in between his legs, leaning back against his chest while his arms are wrapped around her. They talk about everything: colors, masks, their studies, what they feel for each other. And even if he worries she’ll change her mind, that she might regret this when the sun rises in the morning, it only takes the press of her lips against his cheek or neck to return him to the present moment.

Fiyero does not know what the coming day will bring.

But he swears he can face it, as long as he’s hers.

[sinning-23]

Inked (Law x Tattoo!Artist!Reader)

Bases off this little BLURB here!

Ps. I know its been almost a year since I touched this work but I'm nothing if not a procrastinator lol. This ones for my Law girlies....i get it

P.P.S Its been a minute since ive posted period sorry my baby sinner mam misses yall she just working and trying to save/raise money for japan in 4 months!

P.P.P.S PLEASE EXCUSE ANY SPELLING ERRORS

ENJOY!

“Ah I’m all booked for today. Got a nice piece this new client requested.” You hum, prepping your station.

The shop you worked in was more of a hole in the wall but a well known one? Pirates from near and far all came here and since you'd obtained an official license (after being caught a while back for tatooing without one)

You sigh, the clock ticking and soon the bell above the entrance chime. Perfect timing. You watch as the lanky brunette shuffles to your station, eyes tired.

“Hey you’re my new client yeah? Uhhh Law?” You smile, jutting your hand out with a smile.

He smirks, not bothering to return the gesture with far less enthusiasm, only stripping his coat and shirt as your throat runs dry.

Fuck he was hot. Well before he took the shirt off he was hot but this just added like 20 more points. Makes up for not giving you a handshake you'd suppose.

His back was already tatted as well as his forearms. You can eel your mouth waters as you practically gawk at this stranger, watching how his back and forearms twitch.

Your eyes trace over the veins up his arms, then to the base of his knuckles. Each letter dark, striking somekind of caution into your chest

Death is what it reads.

"Nice work. Must've been hell to get done." You hum, setting up the gun before patting the table beside you.

He only nods, awfully quiet. You were kinda thankful for it though. Had he opened his mouth and it been the most raw and sultry sound, you were sure you'd fuck up his ink out of pure horniness alone

"This is a pretty big piece you psycho, so I'll make sure we break inbetwee-"

"No need." He hums, the sheer baritone of his voice sending a mass vibration up your spine.

Aha so your previous fear had come to fruition.

You swallow hard, applyiing the gel and decal to his chest, this stomach flexing impulsively as your finger dance across tanned flesh.

"Bite the pillow." You mutter jokingly, seeing his eyes briefly widen before you put the needled gun to his skin.

Law's teeth clench, a low grunt leaving his throat as you fight the urge to whimper at the sound. This guy was your high school badboy emo wet fuckin dream!

________

Hours had passes at this point, Law's eyes closed as he takes slow, labored breaths.

Unfortunatly for you, you couldn't quite seem to get this angle right and you refused to ruin this intricate piece. You sigh in defeat, far too embarrassed to ask what you need. You pause for a moment, Law's eye scrackign open at the sutten pause.

"Something wrong?" He asks, that voice once again making your belly flip inside out.

"Okay, let's call it quits for this session yeah? C-Come back tomorrow?" You offer, avoiding his piercing gaze.

He sits up, catching a glipse of your work in the mirror.

"What? It's nearly finished, what's the issue?" He questions, obviously sticking by what he said about not needing a break.

Your breath catches as he raises a brow, watching you hesitate.

"U-Um...ok I need you to not freak out when I ask this." You begin, breaking the silence as he takes a breath...like he was preparing himself for your bullshit.

"Spit it out" He huffs again, the sound of his voice making a nervous, "H-haha" leave your lips.

"I...I neeed a better angle but I gotta uh...get on top." You explain, embarrassment filling your face as his eyes pop open, squinting at what exactly you meant.

"What the hell 're you-"

"Do you want the tat done or not?" You huff, one hand on your hip while the other holds the gun.

He thinks for a bit, eyes scanning over your waist, hips, then thighs before shooting back up to your face, gauging your expression.

"Do whatever you need." Law grunts, adjusting before you take that as an ok to continue.

You successfully throw one leg over his waist before setting the other on the opposite side, effectively straddling him.

"Don't think I need to tell you his important it is that you DON'T move." You reiterate eyes focused as you take a labored breath.

Fuck this was not at all professional...but hell, pirates that come in for tats arent here to prepare for interviews with the maries.

This was about as professional as it'd get.

He gives a slight scoff, the sound choked up in his throat for a moment before he he swallows hard, adam's apple bobbing at the action.

You fight for your life not to bite it.

“I-I know this isn’t the most conventional position but bear with me.” You breath out, hand steady against his chest as you straddle his waist.

The dark haired male’s hands gripped your waist as you leaned forward, each line you imprinted into his skin making his stomach muscles flex.

“S’Fine.” He grumbles, eyes somehow meeting the valley of your breast and he quickly averts his gaze.

Your face heats by the minute, feeling yourself lean forward, steadying one and beside his head as the other fills in thick black lines across his pecs.

"Id take advantage of the view." You joke, looking up at him briefly, just to be met with honey-yellow hues.

And suddenly, it wasn't a joke anymore, his eyes looking right down the valley of your breast.

"Perv..." You scoff, another joke, well until he gets handsy.

His palms are at the curve of your ass, not squeezing, just resting as he grounds himself, the pain mixing with pleasure each time your hips happen to shift against his.

"You're the perve. Isn't this unprofessional?" He grunts, looking down at your hands working ink into his skin just before looking back at your chest, then up to your focused, but flustered expression.

"I-I mean...well it could be worse!" You deflect, feeling his fingers slide between your belt loops.

"For who?"

The comment is met with silence because honestly, this was feeding heavily into your fantasies.

____

You fill the last gap, admiring your work before sitting up, still straddling the brunette.

"Hell yea! All done!" You cheer, a prideful smile on your lips as he squeezes his eyes shut.

"Great, now could you mo-"

"Honestly that went so much faster than I thought!" You yap, shifting your hips again as your fist rests against your hip.

"Lady please just-"

He doesn't know how much patience he's got left, not when each movement only further worsens the tightening in his jeans. How could you not realize you were basically dry-humping at this point. Law's hands had made their way to his sides, now clenched in fists and he bites back a whimper. Only the layer of your clothes keep the two of you separate.

"And you took it like a champ! I mean seriously!"

"I need you to get off me please!" He gulps, gripping your waist to lift you up, embarrassment flooding his feathers as he flushed red.

"Huh? O-OH my gosh I'm so sorry!" You yelp, scrambling off of him as he clears his throat.

You scamper to wipe him down and apply the second skin before scurrying over to the front desk to check him out.

"A-Again sorry for the whole...awkward-"

"Forget it, just...ring me up for this." He sighs heavily, still tinted red.

"Uh, right! Sorry." You show him his total, expecting a bit of a fuss but he does nothing but reach and pull the payment out his coat pocket(which he had tugged on and zipped up in an attempt to hid his boner.

He gives a curt nod, leaving. The bells at the top jingle and you can't help but feel...like you miss him a bit. With a deep breath, you move back to your station, the imprint of your bodies still pushed into the foam.

[astro-stars]

wait do you? (continuation)

The Mostro Lounge was unusually quiet that afternoon, a stark contrast to Yuu’s chaotic day. Earlier, she’d impulsively asked Jack an embarrassing question about beastmen heats due to a lingering truth potion incident that stripped her of her filter. She’d spent the rest of the day dodging curious looks and trying to recover her dignity. Now, as she sat across from Jade and Floyd, the potion’s effects were still in full force, much to her dismay.

Without warning, Yuu blurted out, “Do merfolk mate for life like some sea animals?”

Both twins froze for a split second before Floyd burst into laughter, slapping the table. “Hahaha! Oh man, Shrimpy, where did that come from?”

Jade’s polite smile widened, his sharp teeth glinting. “An intriguing question, Prefect. What inspired such a… candid inquiry?”

Yuu’s face turned crimson as she waved her hands defensively. “I just… I mean, I’ve read things about eels and other sea creatures, and I was curious if it’s the same for merfolk. You know, since you’re… part ocean.”

Floyd leaned back in his chair, still chuckling. “You’re so weird, Shrimpy. But I like it. What’s next? You wanna know if we lay eggs?”

“Wait, do you?” Yuu asked, her curiosity piqued despite herself.

Jade let out a soft laugh, his amusement barely concealed. “No, we do not. Merfolk anatomy has certain… parallels with humans, though there are unique differences.”

“Unique differences?” Yuu echoed, leaning forward unconsciously.

Floyd grinned mischievously, leaning closer. “Oh, wouldn’t you like to know, Shrimpy? Should I give you the full merbiology lesson?”

“Floyd,” Jade interjected smoothly, his tone carrying a hint of warning. “Let us not overwhelm her with too much information.”

Floyd ignored him, standing abruptly and grabbing Yuu’s arm. “Nah, this is too good. Let’s go see Azul. He’ll love this.”

“Wait, what?” Yuu stammered as Floyd dragged her along, Jade following at a leisurely pace, his expression one of quiet amusement.

The trio found Azul in his office, meticulously reviewing ledgers. He looked up as they entered, his expression shifting from mild annoyance to curiosity.

“Floyd, Jade, Prefect,” Azul greeted, adjusting his glasses. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Floyd shoved Yuu into a chair across from Azul’s desk, grinning from ear to ear. “Shrimpy’s got questions. Real funny ones. You’re gonna love this.”

Jade took a seat beside Yuu, his smile ever-present. “She’s been inquiring about the… biological nuances of merfolk.”

Azul blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Biological nuances?”

“Yeah,” Floyd said, leaning on the desk. “Like if we mate for life, or if we lay eggs. Stuff like that.”

Azul’s face turned a shade darker as he cleared his throat. “Well, Prefect, I can assure you that merfolk biology is… a complex subject. Certainly not something to discuss so casually.”

Yuu buried her face in her hands. “This wasn’t supposed to involve you. They dragged me here!”

Floyd burst into laughter again, while Jade’s chuckles were more subdued. Azul’s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied Yuu. “Prefect, you’re not usually this… uninhibited. Have you, perhaps, been affected by a potion?”

Yuu groaned. “Yes! It was an accident in class this morning, and now I can’t stop blurting out whatever I’m thinking.”

Azul’s expression shifted to one of realization. “Ah, I’d heard about a truth potion incident but hadn’t realized it was you. How fascinating.” His tone took on a mischievous edge as he leaned forward. “Tell me, Yuu, what do you really think about some of our fellow students?”

“Oh no,” Yuu said, her eyes widening. “I’m not answering that.”

“You might not have a choice,” Jade said smoothly, his amusement evident.

Floyd clapped his hands together, grinning. “Yeah, Shrimpy! What’s your take on lion fishy? Bet you’ve got something good there.”

Yuu groaned again, feeling the words bubble up against her will. “He’s… grumpy but weirdly charming,” she admitted reluctantly. “And he’s got great hair.”

Floyd howled with laughter, while Jade nodded thoughtfully. “Interesting,” he murmured.

Azul smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “And Riddle?”

“He tries too hard,” Yuu blurted, “but he’s really sweet deep down.”

The twins’ laughter echoed through the office as Azul leaned back in his chair, clearly entertained. Just then, the door burst open, and Ace, Deuce, and Grim stormed in, looking frantic.

“There you are!” Ace exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Yuu. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“You can’t just run off when you’re like this!” Deuce added, his expression a mix of worry and exasperation.

Grim hopped onto the desk, glaring at the trio of Octavinelle students. “What are you guys doing with my hench-human? She’s under my protection!”

Floyd burst out laughing again, leaning against the wall for support. “Your ‘hench-human’? Oh, this just keeps getting better!”

Azul adjusted his glasses, his smirk widening. “Ah, her rescuers have arrived. How charming.”

Ace grabbed Yuu’s arm, gently but firmly. “Come on, we’re taking you back to the dorm before you spill more secrets.”

Yuu sighed in defeat as her friends dragged her out of the office, Grim muttering under his breath about irresponsible eels. As they left, Floyd’s laughter echoed down the hall, and Yuu couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever live this day down.

TAGLIST: @soramcduckahyucky @lunasmisosoup

IDEA BY: @kimdourden

DIVIDER/BORDER: MEEE :)

[maccachibchan]

The continuation of this https://www.tumblr.com/maccachibchan/757023677830316032/i-didnt-know-what-to-think-but-i-managed-to?source=share

The Birth of Delilah (2/3/4)

[voidofthevoidmv]

I got another fun Gravity Falls thingie- It’s a continuation of the show- EXCEPT IN SPACE!!!! The mystery twins get abducted by aliens and chaos ensues. They are lost in space and also- Somehow get involved in a lot of stuff that certainly shouldn’t be their problem but IS. It’s fine, Mystery Twins have dealt with worse…

[chibi-godz]

Aftermath of Zeus meeting starseidon (who belongs to @aquariusthevisionary ofc)

Plus some minor revenge on Poseidon. Don't worry he'll get back at him soon

Also tried to draw the Peter Griffin death pose but Zeus's hair is far too fluffy 😓

[mensfactory]

1930 Bentley Speed Six Continuation Series prototype