#goose romance

[schistostegapennata]

Okay, so, I just really need y'all to know about these Canadian geese at my local duck pond. So, I live somewhere where there are no Canadian geese--they only come through here briefly for migration, and then go on their merry way to warmer parts of the continent. BUT, one year, this one goose just refused to keep migrating. He just kind of went, "yes, this duck pond is big, clean, and has a fence around it, and people throw me snacks all the time, so I will stay here." And he did. So every year since then, all the geese come through and they all leave, and he stays by himself and lords it over the ducks and splashes around in the pond and has a great time.

But what do you think happened this year? I was walking by the duck pond and saw that the goose not only had a mate, but four fluffy goslings! He somehow managed to convince another goose to stick around, and to me this is the love story to end all love stories, thank you very much, that is all.

[faggyv4mpire]

gerd gay😰 vs a goose😱

[velvetdestroya]

Thank you for the venom! The guys slay on Day 1 at Scotiabank Area, Toronto, Ontario, Canada on September 4, 2022.

[photo credit; camrynms, liveinlimbo, k,wsphotography]

[epiimetheux]

Icemav Royal Fantasy AU👑

The House Kazansky has been ruling the Kingdom of Miramar for centuries and was one of the most powerful families. The Kazanskys called themselves The Azure Children. As the tale’s been told from generation to generation, the bloodline was blessed by the fearsome ruler of the sky, the Thunderbird, who had bestowed them the power to wield weather as they willed.

However, with time, the pureblood has been washed away little by little. Mixed. Spoiled. Fewer and fewer children were born with the celestial gift. The House has grown restless for they couldn’t dare to think of what would happen to their sovereignty without the wrath of the Sky King in their hands. Challenges would come, from their conquered subordinates as well as their enemies. 

Until one winter, after years of waiting and suffering, during a heavy snowstorm. A newborn cried and the sky screamed.

Thomas Kazansky II was told he was the Hope of the clan since the day he understood words. Not every gifted-one was meant to be a powerful weather wielder but Thomas was the real Azure Children. As the winter welcomed him to the world, his power naturally attuned to the cold. Moreover, being the favourite child of the sky, the lighting, the weapon of their Winged God, also called him its master. Everyone in the castle learnt at that moment that none should upset their prince.

It was a precarious time and the King would do anything to ensure the safety of their saviour. Thomas thus spent his childhood caged inside the castle wall, inside the lecture room, inside his bedroom, between a group of nannies, and between a group of armed Royal Guards.

Thomas wasn’t born cold. But the gentle boy has gone with the early passing of his mother and the absence of paternal love. He was the Crown Prince and the Hope of the House. No one would bring harm to him including companionship. By the tender age of 12, Thomas found himself to be completely alone.

Peter ‘Pete’ Mitchell had so many things to prove to the world. Born to a small family on the outskirts of the Capital, having the captain of the Royal Guard as a father, Pete dreamt of an adventure and glory of his own. 

He grew up with tales of conquests, chivalrous knights, magic and monsters alongside the gentle tunes of his mother’s lullaby. This was Pete’s perfect little world until it was shattered by the murder of his father, rumours of his father’s treason, and shortly the death of his heartbroken mother. The newly orphan was taken under the wing of Michael Metcalfe, his father’s successor and closest friend, the only person who still trusted in Duke Mitchell’s loyalty to the crown.

“What do you want to be in the future, kid?” Metcalfe once asked on a calm summer afternoon. “I want to be a Royal Guard.” little Pete said, determined, only 9 years old. The old man nodded, understanding the implications behind that answer. “Then you shall be. I’ll make sure of that.” 

Pete Mitchell had so many things to prove to the world.

His world was a little bit brighter when he met Nicolas Bradshaw on the first day of his training, then Papa and Mama Bradshaw who reminded him of a family he once had and lost. Pete regained little by little a piece of a normal life.

But sometimes in the moment of weakness, Pete returned to the place where his old home once stood and walked around the forest nearby where his father loved to bring him, tracing the fleeting memory that he has been fighting very hard not to forget. And one day under the shade of the pine forest, Pete, recently 18, found a stranger on the spot where he used to sleep on the arm of his late father, with the coldest eyes he ever laid eyes upon.

[rat-at-heart]

Looking for a babysitter for date night! (Literally looking for someone to sit on their babies)

[reinerispretty]

astronomically.

satoru gojo x f! reader. sequel to best of luck. and pause technique. third installment of the heart beats series!

masterlist

ok, this one is my favorite hehe. also wrote this back in 2022. please enjoy!

SUMMARY:

You get very, very drunk. Thankfully Gojo's there.

tws: throw up (for drunk reasons)

Nanami Kento is too good at drinking. One might not think it just by looking at him—he seems very reserved and orderly, the type that sticks to a strict routine to keep himself at optimal performance. And those things are all true, of course, but it doesn’t stop him from tossing back shots like nobody’s business. 

You, however, are not very good at drinking, but that doesn’t stop you from trying. When Nanami orders another shot, you order one too, because you don’t want him doing it alone. You’ve never liked the burn going down your throat, but they get you drunk fast , especially at the pace you’re going. Nanami probably doesn’t feel much, what with science and tallness and muscle mass and all that, but you’re hammered. Stumbling over words and feet type hammered. 

Gojo Satoru doesn’t really drink, and for good reason. He’d tell anyone who asks that he’s a massive lightweight, since he never developed much of a tolerance, what with being the strongest sorcerer and all. And that’s true, sure, but the larger reason is you. You, who is so adamant about keeping up with your friends and proving yourself that you’re willing to be your own downfall. 

You don’t need to keep up with Nanami, god knows he doesn’t expect you to, but you’ve always had a sort of…inferiority complex. You want to prove to other people that you’re strong before they have the chance to doubt you, even if you’ve known said people for over a decade. You’ve gotten better since you’ve grown up (you used to be an aggressive little thing), but at times like these when emotions run rampant due to alcohol content, you start to fall back into old habits. 

Tonight’s your birthday, and it’s probably the only day of the year you’ll allow yourself to act like this, so carefree and unbidden. You’re sipping on your cocktail which is arguably more juice than liquor, thanks to a quick exchange between Nanami and the bartender. You’ve got one hand propping up your head, and you’re looking between Gojo and Nanami as they talk. 

From behind dark glasses, Gojo’s eyes flash to meet yours. He gives you a wink that has you blushing before he turns back to your friend, and his large hand rests comfortably on your knee. Your fingers wrap around his, and you hum along with the song playing through the speakers. 

Gojo likes you like this. He likes you all the time, but drunk you is a favorite of his. You’re a lot less careful about what comes out of your mouth, so you’re far more likely to compliment him. Mostly though, you seem relaxed, and he knows it’s because he’s there. You don’t worry about anything because you know he’ll take care of you, and it makes his heart swell that you put so much trust in him. He wants to soak in every moment, so Gojo always offers himself up as the designated driver. 

“I like your tie,” You interrupt their conversation to tell Nanami for the seventeenth time that night. 

He doesn’t miss a beat, sending a relaxed smile your way and saying, “Thank you, (Y/N). I appreciate it.” You grin so widely at him your eyes squint, then return to your people-watching. 

The bar is crowded, has been since you all arrived, and you aren’t normally someone who enjoys crowds but you’d insisted on coming. You like drinking with your friends. It reminds you of a time when everything wasn’t so complicated and serious. It was a long time ago. 

You know you’ve reached the bottom of your drink when your sips become loud, the straw bringing up absolutely nothing. You pout, and turn to Gojo to ask him to order you another drink, when suddenly his face is inches from yours. 

“How’s a burger sound?” He asks, and your eyes sparkle at the prospect of food. You don’t even realize it’s being used as a distraction.

“Okay!” You nod eagerly, and you turn toward Nanami. “Are you comin’ with us?” 

“I think it’s best if I head home,” He tells you, and your bottom lip wobbles just slightly. 

“But Nanamin,” You say, and they know you’re absolutely wasted if you’re using his nickname. “Ish my birthday .” Sober you would respect your friend’s wishes, but drunk you just wants to spend time with him! Nanami is a busy person who keeps to his routine, leaving little room for the two of you to actually hang out. If it isn’t scheduled in advance, he won’t be there. (Ironically, if it is scheduled, it’s unlikely Gojo will show up. It’s a good thing your birthday is so important to them.) 

“I’ll walk with you,” He offers. “But once you arrive, I’m going home.” Nanami checks his watch. “It’s already past one. I’m not as young as I used to be.” 

“I think he’s calling us old,” Gojo whispers loudly to you, and you gasp. 

“Nanamin! Don’ disrespect your elders!” 

Gojo pays the tab and the three of you leave the bar, which is still thrumming with the vibrancy of night life. Your hand firmly holds Gojo’s, swinging it back and forth as you pour your heart out to Nanami. 

“I’m really thankful you came tonight, Nanamin,” You say. “I mish you a lot. We used ta spend soooo much time together, ‘member?” If a representation of your heart was inaccurately drawn by Gojo, ninety-five percent of it would belong to him while the other five percent would go to Nanami. Although you’d met Gojo first, you’d been actual friends with Nanami for longer. (These timelines blur and coalesce depending on who’s telling them.) 

Nanami hums. “Yes, back when we attended the same school and didn’t have full time jobs.” 

You groan. “I think we should jus’ quit an’ make Gojo take care of us!” 

“Gladly,” He says, slinging an arm around your shoulders. Nanami would never allow it and neither would sober you, but he’d spend all of his money on you if he could. 

You lean into his touch completely, something you would normally only do in the privacy of your home. You’re very reserved when it comes to intimacy, which Gojo respects, but he also lives for these moments. 

You’re talking animatedly to Nanami but Gojo isn’t listening. He’s too focused on how the neon lights shine against your hair and how small but right your hand feels in his. How your laugh rises above the noise of the city but still sounds more melodic than any song he’s ever heard before. 

Gojo runs a hand through his hair. What did his students call it? Down bad? (Astronomically, Kugisaki would add later.) 

They finally reach the burger place and Nanami departs, but not before you give him a bone-crushing hug. Gojo laughs as he sees the surprise on his friend’s face. He hadn’t been expecting your strength. 

Before you can get too sad over Nanami’s departure, Gojo steers you inside. There’s a bit of a line, since other drunk people also had the same idea, but he doesn’t mind. Just means more time with you. 

“What d’you want?” He asks. You hum, finger tapping against your chin as you think. 

“Cheeseburger, large fry, an’ a milkshake, please.” 

“Got it, but I feel like I shouldn’t have to remind you that you’re lactose intolerant.” 

“Ish my birthday ,” You grumble up at him, but you rest your head against his arm. “If I wanna shit my brains out later, I should be able to.” 

He snorts. “You know technically, it’s not your birthday anymore. We passed midnight a long time ago.” 

You look up at him, eyebrows drawing together. “We celebrated your birthday for a whole week!” 

“Well, yeah, but that’s me.” You scoff at him but he catches the smile on your face, and presses a kiss to your rounded cheek. 

He orders (and pays) for you, and the two of you claim a booth as you wait for your food. He takes advantage of your lack of inhibitions and sits on the same side as you, enjoying the way your thighs touch against his. Such a simple thing, and yet when it comes to you, it’s everything. 

Gojo can feel eyes on him, hear friends whispering to each other about how hot he is (a fact, not a personal opinion), but he’s only looking at you. You, who’s decided that now is a good time to type out a thank you message to everyone who made your special day so special. 

The bar was more of a close friends event, but the guest list for dinner had been much broader. Shoko and Mei Mei were in attendance, and somehow you all wound up at the same restaurant as the students. It might’ve been a smidge inappropriate, but you’d looked so happy to see everyone there that Gojo didn’t have the heart to tell you it wasn’t planned. 

Utahime was there as well. She’d shot him a death glare which immediately faded into a bright smile as soon as her eyes landed on you. The two of you had always had a grumpy girl club thing going on that he’d never understood. Aside from himself and Nanami, Utahime is your other best friend. He has to admit it makes him a bit jealous, especially because he’s certain she’s trying to steal you away to Kyoto. 

“How do you spell ‘extracurricular?’’ You ask him. 

“What are you even writing?” He snatches your phone out of your grasp. His eyes skim the message to find that it’s entirely incoherent and riddled with spelling errors that you’d be mortified to find in the morning. He deletes it all and slips your phone into his pocket. “You’ll thank me for that tomorrow.” 

You roll your eyes but don’t object, which is a win in Gojo’s book. After a moment, you speak again. “Do ya think people had fun tonight?” Your voice is soft and he can tell you’re a little lost in your thoughts. 

“Doesn’t matter if anyone else had fun. All that matters is whether or not you did.” He raises an eyebrow. “Did you?” 

“Did you ?” You tap your fingernails against the table. “I know I’m not…” You deflate, some sort of criticism of yourself lost on your lips, and Gojo needs to rectify this. 

He slots his fingers between yours. “Of course I’m having fun! Wouldn’t be here with you if I wasn’t.” You smile because you know he means it. He’s not the sort of person to waste his time. 

“Order eighty three!” The cashier calls out, and Gojo’s hand slips from yours as he stands to get your food. 

The girl at the counter’s face goes pink as he approaches. She hands him the paper bag and asks, “Need anything else?” 

“A few napkins, please.” You’re a messy eater when you’re drunk. 

The girl pulls napkins out from under the counter, but before she slides them over, she takes out a pen and scrawls a phone number on one of them. Gojo’s used to this sort of thing. He flashes the girl a smile as he takes the napkins and heads back to you. He has no intention of calling her. 

Still, all it takes is one look at your face and he knows that you’ve seen the whole exchange. Your lips are turned down into a frown, and you stare angrily up at him. He ignores you as he pulls the food out of the bag. 

When he’s sitting back down again, your hand snakes behind his neck, pulling him into a kiss. It’s loose tongues and bumping teeth and perhaps a little inappropriate for such an establishment, but it invigorates him. Electricity rumbles through his veins, setting his body alight. He’d known kissing you was going to be dangerous—even pressing his lips to your cheek or forehead fogs his mind for a few seconds, but it’s a drug that only gets better and better. 

You pull away first. The kiss couldn’t have lasted for more than a few seconds, but he can see the flush on your face and how swollen your lips look from his teeth nipping against them. He grins. “You’re adorable when you’re jealous.” 

“I’m not jealous!” You protest, shoving french fries into your mouth. “Ish just annoying, you know? How hard is it to make the educated assumption that a man an’ woman sitting together in a burger place at almost two in the morning are dating?” 

Drunk you is far more outward with her jealousy, and he loves it. Thrives off it, in fact. 

You bite into your burger. “Wish we had rings,” You say, more to yourself than him. “That way everybody’d know.” 

He stiffens. Is this something you’ve been thinking about? The two of you had only been officially dating for a few months, but he’d considered himself yours for years. The thought of marrying you crosses his mind at least once a day, but he’d kept quiet for fear of spooking you. You’re someone who works through things in their own time. See the last thirteen years as an example. 

Gojo ignores what you’ve just said, more for your sake than his, but he files it away. The two of you will come back to that later. Preferably when he’s had time to stop by a jeweler. 

Faces stuffed and bellies full, you leave the burger place and head back down the street to Gojo’s car. He’s got a hand wrapped around your waist to keep you from falling as you walk. You’ve become rather quiet, drifting into that sleepy drunk phase now that you’ve eaten. The night is drawing to a close. 

Gojo helps you into his car, buckling you in because your hands keep fumbling. As he slides into the driver seat he asks, “Your place or mine?” 

Your answer surprises him. “Can we go to your house, please?” You slump in your seat so you can lean into him. “Your pillows smell like you.” 

“Anything for the birthday girl,” He says as he pulls onto the street, and you give a tired cheer. 

You don’t come over to Gojo’s house very often. Not because you don’t like it, but because he’s never there. He’s usually at Jujutsu High or traveling, so he only really sees his place when he’s going to sleep. And since you got together, he’s been choosing to do that at yours. 

Although it’s smaller than his, he likes your place a lot more. It’s lived-in, curated with care, and it feels so wholeheartedly like you that even before you admitted your feelings for him, it felt more like home than his own. 

You’re nearly asleep by the time he pulls up to the building. He helps you inside, greeting the late-night doorman with a nod before guiding you into the elevator. “Seventeenth floor,” You say, proud of yourself for remembering, and he smiles at you. 

“You stalking me or something?” You giggle as his arms encircle your waist, his fingers playfully tickling your sides. 

Gojo’s home is a penthouse apartment, so the elevator opens directly into it. It’s private, which means that even though the rest of his building is filled with wealthy elites, his floor can only be accessed by a single elevator with a passcode. It fills you with pride that you’re one of only two people that know it. 

You slip off your shoes and toss your coat on the rack like you own the place, but before you can make your way towards the bed, Gojo drags you into the kitchen. He fills a glass of water for you and takes a bottle of Tylenol from the cabinet. 

“Drink,” He orders as he presses it to your lips. You try to take the cup but he won’t let you, so you’re stuck staring up at him as he force-hydrates you. Once you’re finished, he fills it up again and makes you take the painkillers. 

You’re onto the bathroom next. “‘M not letting you give me a bath,” You tell him. 

“Of course not,” He scoffs. “That’s a tomorrow activity.” And despite your glare, there’s still a hint of a smile on your face. 

He opens a cabinet and pulls out makeup wipes, and you spot a multitude of other feminine products. They’ve likely been left here over time, or he purchased them to make sure his guests were more comfortable. It doesn’t send off warning bells to see it. Instead it just carves a little into the darkest part of your heart, where the regret of not doing any of this sooner lives. 

“Did it make you sad, too?” You ask as he gently wipes the makeup from your face. He raises an eyebrow. “When I’d sleep with people who weren’t you.” 

Gojo’s always had a bit of a reputation for being a manwhore, and it had always confused you how he could declare his undying love for you and then bring random hookups back to his house. It wasn’t until you accepted your feelings for him that you realized he was doing the same thing you were: searching for each other in the embrace of strangers. You can’t even count how many times you’ve had to hold your tongue to avoid calling out his name when sleeping with people you pretended were him. 

Gojo’s smile wavers slightly, and he clears his throat as he avoids your gaze. His eyes hold infinity and all of his emotions, and he knows that nobody can read him better than you. “Yeah,” He agrees, his voice just a bit hoarse. “Yeah, it made me sad, too.” 

He lets you finish scrubbing the last of your eye makeup, and stands in the doorway as you wash your face and brush your teeth. He brings you one of his tshirts to wear as pajamas (he is a man, after all), and once you’re all clean he brings you to his bed. It’s not nearly as comfortable as yours, unfortunately, but Gojo enjoys the way you sigh happily once you have his comforter wrapped around you. You’re asleep within seconds. 

He doesn’t go to bed just yet, though. You don’t have any clothes at his house to wear the next day, so he does a bit of online shopping. You’re going to hate him for spending so much money on you. However will he endure it? 

It’s a few hours later and Gojo’s just finished checking out at the third store when you start to stir. He pauses, waiting to see if you’ll fall back asleep, but then you’re standing up and wobbling into his ensuite bathroom. You slam the door shut behind you, and it’s the clicking of the lock that indicates to him that something’s wrong. 

He knocks against the door, calling your name. You’re quiet, but he can hear your sniffles. He imagines that you’re crying over the toilet. “Can I come in?” 

You unlock the door for him and his heart melts at how absolutely pitiful you look. Tears are welling in your eyes and streaking down your cheeks, and you try to wipe them away as he sits down next to you but they just keep coming. “I can’t—” You hiccup, “I feel so sick but it won’t, I don’t want to—” You shake your head. 

“I think you’ve got to force it this time,” Gojo says, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. More tears fall at the prospect. You hate throwing up. You don’t like doing it, and if you didn’t feel so horrible right now you’d probably just ride through the nausea until it passed. Sadly, it was so uncomfortable that it woke you. “Do you want me to help you?” 

You frown at him. “I’m not going to ask you to stick a finger down my throat.” 

“I’d do it for you,” And that makes you laugh. He presses a kiss to your temple and gathers your hair in one hand. “Come on, you can do it,” He encourages. “I’m right here.” 

You inhale a deep breath and reach your finger as far back as it’ll go. Your gag reflex triggers and suddenly you’re throwing up into the toilet, and more tears start streaming down your face. You hate this feeling. Hate it hate it hate it. 

But Gojo’s there, as promised, and his large hands smooth over your shoulders to soothe you as he keeps your hair out of your face. “Let it out. You’ll feel so much better once it’s over.” 

You stay there for a while, and once you’re certain there’s nothing left in your stomach, Gojo helps you clean up. You’re tired and still a bit drunk, so you cry as you apologize to him. He shushes you and wipes your face with a damp washcloth, and makes you brush your teeth again. 

He doesn’t have to, but he carries you back to bed. He doesn’t let go as he turns off the lights, nor as he settles between the sheets. He holds you firmly to him and you don’t protest. 

“Do you feel better?” He says into the darkness, and you nod against his shoulder. 

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

The next morning, you regret absolutely everything . 

As much as you’d have liked to spend the day sleeping, at precisely six in the morning, Ijichi calls to tell the both of you that you’re needed at Jujutsu High. You let Gojo handle most of the talking, since you can’t be bothered to leave the shroud of blanket you’ve surrounded yourself with. 

“No need to call (Y/N),” Gojo says, “She’s right next to me! I’ll let her know.” With that, he hangs up, and uses a finger to lift the blanket just slightly so he can see you. “Ijichi said we need to go to the school.” 

“I heard,” You say. Gojo had been kind enough to put him on speaker. 

“He said Yaga would like us there in an hour.” 

“I heard .” 

“I told him he didn’t need to call you since you spent the night.” 

You huff, flinging the covers off of you so you can stand up, which only exacerbates your headache more. “If this is your way of annoying me out of bed, you’re doing phenomenally.” You storm off, slamming the bathroom door shut and locking it. You turn on the shower and Gojo’s at the door, knocking. 

“Hey! I thought you were gonna let me give you a bath!” The handle rattles. “I have to get ready too, y’know!” 

“Use the guest bathroom!” You shout back as you step beneath the sweet relief of hot water. 

If you’re with Gojo, you’re going to be late anyway, so the both of you take your time getting ready. His online purchases are carried up by the staff, clean and ready for you to use, and you only snip at him a teensy bit for spending money on you. You’re thankful that you don’t have to greet your peers in last night’s outfit. 

You fix yourself a cup of coffee to drink on the way, but as soon as you and Gojo step outside, the bright, sunny day blinds you. Had you become a vampire in the middle of the night? You scowl, raising your hand to block out the sun’s rays, but it’s no use. 

Gojo maneuvers around you to block out the light, but his teasing grin is just as annoying to look at. “Something wrong?” 

“Shut up,” You grumble. “Why’s it so goddamn bright?” You don’t think you can last another second in this light. 

Gojo snickers. “All these years and you haven’t learned your limits.” 

“I can still kick your ass, hungover or not.” You pull him back into the shadows. “Give me your sunglasses.” He raises an eyebrow from beneath his blindfold. “It’s not like you’re going to use them today, anyway. Let me borrow them.” 

He pulls them from his pocket and you unfold them, placing them onto your face. You exhale as you step back into the light. “Much better!” You toss him a smile over your shoulder. “Ready?” 

Gojo needs approximately five seconds to gather himself. He knows he looks great in his glasses, but he’d vehemently argue that they look even better on you. Seeing you wear his stuff always does something to him, but the sunglasses? 

He thinks of cold showers, grandmothers, and sour foods to keep himself from imagining how you might look wearing his sunglasses and nothing else.

[honeythispodcast]

this is a SUPPLY AND DEMAND kinda society in that u are demanding and we will SUPPLY. so. one hour episode dissecting Millions when? one hour episode dissecting Millions NOW!

In this special bonus ep we are digging into the glittery scuzzy glammy world of Hesitant Alien. We’re talking about the band breakup, liminality, and fame, and we’re dissecting a song which is certainly and unequivocally about jewel thieves. Gerard Way Is A Liar and you can hear us chat about it now on Spotify & Apple Podcasts etc etc !!

Topics include: Our tin foil hats, dreams, the Gerard “she”, longing and television, the No Shows bridge, Frank Iero as this week’s theorist, elevators going to 10, evil songs for evil people, Greggin’, dead rectangles, Lola!!, a line-by-line analysis of Millions, William It Was Really Nothing, and simply reading the text.

[tealfling]

Goosy Goosy Gander

Wither shall I wander?

Upstairs and down stairs

And in My Lady's chamber.

There I met an old man

That would not say his prayers.

So I took him by the left leg

And threw him down the stairs.

Why is this nursery rhyme goostarion coded?

[originalartblog]

goosemasu except its hatoful boyfriend

I know nothing about this game

[rickety-goose]

>:3

[showakyonen]

IN THE CURRENT SEA OF DIGITAL CIRCUS CONTENT… HI. LISTEN TO BURN PYGMALION AND ALSO WATCH PINK CITY IF YOU’RE IN HERE BECAUSE OF TADC

[notnights]

The sadness of Kinger and Queenie being madly in love only for one of them to go insane and the other "dead," is very good but I also think it would be funny if they were divorced irl and hated each other, and then they had to suffer being stuck in this digital world together and potentially paired together by Caine.

[samwise1548]

I found my old lego set today!! A lot of parts are missing now since it's from 2012, but the characters are mainly in tact still. Seeing them again made me want to draw them. Maybe even adopt them into ocs!

So here's an informal introduction to Dr. Rodrick Rathbone the monster hunter, and Baron von Rosethorn the vampire lord!

------

[ID: Pencil and colored marker drawings of some original characters, done on lined paper.

The first drawing is of a fat man (note here, the artist is now realizing they didn't actually make the character fat, and will work on the design more next time.) He is wearing a bowler hat, a grey vest over a white shirt, a red tie, and green pants. His right leg is a metal prosthetic. He's smirking with his hands on his hips. His design is heavily inspired by Lego's minifigure, Dr. Rodney Rathbone from the Monster Fighters theme.

The second drawing is of a vampire, with slick backed hair and dark star-shaped makeup around their red eyes. He's wearing a dark cape, a dark top over a red vest and red tie, and a white frilly shirt underneath. He's looking to the left forlornly, wringing his hands. Their design is heavily inspired by Lego's minifigure, Lord Vampyre from the Monster Fighters theme.

The final drawing, left uncolored, is of both above characters interacting. Dr. Rodrick Rathbone enthusiastically shouts "Hello, young boy!" with his right hand raised in greeting. Rosethorn, trying to hide their face as they pass him by, says to themself "oh geez, it's this guy again?!"

\End ID]

There's also a zombie, but I haven't gotten to draw him yet so he's unnamed for now.

Image of the actual figs under the cut

[ID: an image of three Lego minifigures on a black surface. The first figure at the top is a vampire baring its teeth. Below it on the left is a zombie wearing a tattered blue valet driver uniform. Next to it is a man wearing a bowlerhat with a prosthetic right leg. \End ID]

[velvetdestroya]

Let us remind you. We are My Fucking Chemical Romance! Day 1 at Scotiabank Area, Toronto, Ontario, Canada, September 4, 2022.

[photo credit; punkeandoo]

[ghouljams]

Which of your ocs read FanFiction and which of them write it?

Reads fanfic: Liebling, Fae!Gaz's Darling, Die, Fetch, Soft Darling, Moon

Writes fanfic: Love, Hush(surprisingly), Birdie

Reads published trashy smut romance: Bee, Witch, Threat, Duck

Reads Manga: Goose

[justrandomghoul]

Alpha x Omega: Always Wanted You

CW: Implied smut at the end.

Omega has always wanted Alpha, but does Alpha want him as much as he does?

I’ve been working on this one all week and to be honest, I’m still not very happy with it. I think I would only make it worse if I continued, but I hope you guys enjoy it regardless. <3

Huge thanks to @littlemoon-beam who inspired the religious imagery. <3

Omega wandered down the hallway without looking and nearly collided with Alpha. He looked down and meekly apologized. Alpha's gaze at the ghoul before him looked calculating. It was as though he was trying to figure Omega out. Omega fidgeted nervously under his stare and dared himself to look back up.

“Um…Is something wrong?” Omega asked nervously.

Alpha tilted his head and tenderly placed his hand on Omega’s cheek as if he came across something he has never seen before and must study it. Omega prayed that Alpha couldn't notice that he yearned for his touch, that he yearned for him.

“Your eyes are beautiful,” Alpha softly marveled. “They remind me of the ocean. I always drown in them when I steal a glimpse.”

Omega looked down and blushed at the words spoken to him.

“T-thanks,” Omega stammered, not knowing what to say. He willed himself to back up at Alpha. “Your eyes are beautiful, too.”

Alpha grinned and pulled Omega closer.

Alpha leaned in and whispered sweetly into Omega's ear, "I just want to focus on you, our beautiful Omega."

Alpha gently kissed and nibbled his neck, compelling Omega to shutter and gasp in ecstasy. Alpha had the reputation of being forward, but at that moment, Omega somehow forgot how forward he could be. Omega has always been infatuated with Alpha, but he wouldn't dream of telling Alpha as he feared rejection.

Alpha growled and pulled Omega closer, nuzzling him. Omega closed his eyes and purred at the sensation.

Alpha confessed as though he was speaking to a noble maiden, "I've always wanted you like this. I've always wanted to see you in your glory and see me worthy enough to bed you."

Omega gently pulled away from Alpha to look him in the eye and confessed, "I've always wanted you as well. I just thought that you wouldn't want me."

Alpha removed his hand from Omega's face and tenderly grasped his neck, feeling a quickened pulse underneath the grasp. Omega gasped at the sensation, wanting to lean more into the touch.

Alpha leaned and growled under his breath into Omega's ear before revealing, "If you allow me, I want to show you how much I want you."

Omega swallowed and nodded, not trusting his voice. He couldn't believe that Alpha wanted him. Alpha wanted Omega how Omega wanted Alpha. Alpha grinned and removed his hand. Omega whined at the loss and gasped as Alpha lifted him into his arms as if he was carrying a princess, and in a way, he was.

Omega wrapped his arms around Alpha's neck to keep himself from falling and leaned closer, wanting to bask in his warmth. Alpha kissed Omega's neck one last time as he carried Omega back to his chamber to worship the beautiful ghoul in his arms.