#his design also changes slightly with every new piece

[befuddled-calico-whump]

AMOW Winter Whumperland

@amonthofwhump Day 5: Turned into a Decoration

Strawberry Boy returns for the holidays. Hope he's brought inside soon. Forecast calls for snow ;-;

[deathbyathousandspiders]

peter and reader at avengers tower and they’re both avengers but they’re “best friends” cuddled up on the couch asleep and none of the avengers let them forget it for weeks

i gotchu ;) also thank you for the request !! i really appreciate it! <3

!!! read part two | part three | part four | part five here !!!

✨masterlist✨.

1.4k.

Being an Avenger definitely came with plenty of risks, seeing as you put your life on the line every day in attempt to save the world. Along with the risks, there were several upsides that outweighed your anxieties about the superhero lifestyle.

Every few months, the team was required to spend a week at the compound for training; it was something fairly stupid, but staying in the mansion for a week wasn’t something you’d complain about. Especially when the team made the most of it.

You enjoyed getting up at dawn to run with Steve, and cooking dinners with Wanda. One thing always stood out to be something you looked forward to most: movie night. You came up with the system so that everyone had a chance to pick a movie, and this week, it was Steve’s turn to pick. Unfortunately, he chose “Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.”

The entire team corralled on the couch, sharing four or five bowls of popcorn and chips, and watching the movie on the giant flat–screen in the meeting room. You were sandwiched between Steve and Peter, attentive to the screen in fear that Steve would be offended if you weren’t. It made you crack a small grin to overhear Sam trying to commentate on the movie, and Bucky immediately tell him to shut the hell up.

You don’t recall at what point of the movie you fell asleep, or how the blanket got draped over you, but it didn’t catch your attention quite like the silent snorer you were cuddled next to. The sound was oddly soothing, and the arm snaked around your torso warmed you more than the blanket did. You would’ve tried to drift back off to sleep in the midst of comfort, if not for the snickers heard beyond your closed eye–lids.

“They look so cozy.” Bucky’s voice was hushed, speaking just above a whisper. The dark of your closed eyes lit up for a second by what you recognized as a shuttered flash photo.

Shit.

“I’m going to make that my lock–screen.” Sam added, trying not to sound as amused as he felt.

There was a quiet pause. “Isn’t that a little weird?” Bucky’s whispered question carried itself above the scattered footsteps of their departure.

When their ascending paces creaked the carpeted floors further out, your eyes lifted, turning your head up to look up at your designated pillow. Upon shifting your sleeping position, you watched Peter adjust mid–slumber, unconsciously catering to your new position.

A smile touched your lips at how peaceful he looked beside you — mouth parted slightly, eyes gently shut, curls falling in front of his face. When you moved to sit up a little, his armed grip around your waist grew tighter, and his sleep stirred at the idea of your absence. You decided against leaving, or moving, and rested your head in the nook of his shoulder. Sleep welcomed you back into slumber quicker than Sam changed his wallpaper.

When you woke in the morning, you thought almost nothing of falling asleep next to Peter. The only thing left to remind you was the lingering aroma of Peter’s cologne, and the ghost of his arm leaving your waistline colder than the rest of your body.

You didn’t pay much mind to it, nor how frequently your train of thought seemed to derail back to Peter somehow; how snug his hold was, the way your head fit with his shoulder like a missing puzzle piece. It felt like a slow–burning ache, the way you missed him. But he was merely your best friend, and the rest of the team seemed to agree with that.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Sam chimed, watching you waltz into the kitchen. He leaned the small of his back against the marble countertop beside the espresso machine, waiting for the pull of his latte shots.

Your hair was still damp from your shower, and your hoodie husked over your body to protect from the looming winter chill. You arched a brow lightly at how amused he seemed to be, slowly recalling his whispered conversation with Bucky from the night prior. You decided to be coy with him. “I think you’ve got your Disney movies mixed up.” You started, pressing on your tiptoes to reach a bowl from the shelf. “We watched Snow White last night, Sam.”

He hummed, sounding skeptical. “Well, everybody but you and your little cuddle–bug boyfriend.” Sam tried to keep himself from laughing. He started to steam the milk he’d set aside to froth to cut you off from giving a witty remark.

Boyfriend. Peter wasn’t your boyfriend, and he probably wouldn’t ever be your boyfriend. Admitting that to yourself sent a sharp jab at your heartstrings, but the pain was quick. Quick like the blush that fanned your face before you dismissed it. Quick like the pour of cereal into your bowl like the thought didn’t flash through your mind.

The steam wand simmered down, and you made it a point to let out a scoff that he could hear. “He’s not my boyfriend–”

You turned. Like an idiot, you turned, bumping bodies with someone and nearly spilled your entire bowl of cereal across the tiled floors of the kitchen. Wide eyed, you looked up, meeting the familiar stare of your best friend. His arms hovered inches from yours, but the electricity flowing between you felt like that length was much shorter. The scent of his cologne filled the room so quick, you nearly forgot how to breathe.

Peter tried to laugh off how tense the room felt, feeling safe enough to once he knew you were okay. “Who’s not your boyfriend?” He asked, the chuckle weaving through his words, sending a pink glisten to your cheeks.

You could feel the smile Sam pressed to the lip of his mug, slurping his latte as he eyed the two of you. “I’ll give you guys the room.” With that, he left, still leaving the kitchen with just as thick of tension. It felt like he left a gigantic elephant in the room, one that had never existed to them until Sam pointed it out. He pointed it out all because you passed out on Peter’s shoulder.

Shaky fingers set the bowl of cookie crisps on the kitchen island before you walked to the fridge for some milk. Your eyes stayed glued to your task, almost like you were trying to avoid eye contact with Peter for some weird reason. How odd.

“Boyfriend?” You pressed air through your closed lips, blowing a dismissive rasberry. “I didn’t say boyfriend, I said Boygenius–” It was a solid cover up, for sure; you thought, pouring milk over your cereal. “They’re performing this weekend with Clairo–”

Peter pressed his palm into the kitchen island, leaning against the structure right beside you. The body heat from him radiated into yours from your close proximity, reeling you in with how intoxicating his presence was. “Y/N, are you hiding something from me?” He faked an offended expression, mouth agape from his act of shock.

That’s when your eyes met. And you swore that the connection of your vision sent him every thought that ran through your head. Every feeling that coursed through your veins telepathically traveled through his too. It was a second, just one second, where you felt like he shared the same conflicting feelings you did. Perhaps he felt the same attraction towards you that you felt for him.

It didn’t help that he stared down at you with such earnesty and attentive nature. His eyes glossed over every inch of your face, studying your expression like he’d find the answer to his question there. You knew the exact moment that he found it, too.

Shit.

You picked up your bowl of cereal, stiffening your posture as you took careful steps backwards. “Nope! Nothing. I’m not hiding anything!” You sounded as suspicious as ever, so your escape route needed to be hasty. You opened and closed the fridge with just enough time to throw the milk in before rushing off to your bedroom.

This wasn’t the first time you’d gotten these intrusive–romantic thoughts about Peter Parker, or when you’d gotten these frantic–giddy jitters around him, either. Typically, you just let them die out over a day or two and then you could find your little pocket of comfort and normalcy again.

But the second you entered your room, you saw the framed photo of what you assumed was the photo Sam took of you and Peter passed out on the couch. The second you saw it, you knew this wouldn’t die out as quickly as you’d hoped. You couldn’t lie, though…It was a pretty cute photo. Although, you didn’t have too much time to dwell on the captured moment. The neon–pink sticky note on the top right corner caught your attention.

‘I better get invited to the wedding, —Sam.’

Shit.

[tokyo-terror]

GENERAL RELATIONSHIP HCS P.2 !

characters: los vaqueros + könig & horangi

alejandro vargas:

☆ very passionate about everything he does, which can make him come off as very aggressive. that being said he's a softie !!! 🙏 almost instantly when first talking to you he starts using the car scene voice when talking to you

☆ religiously tries to fold every piece of clothing in the military style, and gets upset when folding new things that won't fold properly. very strict about color mixing, so he just ends up taking any chore that has to do with laundry when he gets back from deployments

☆ takes any chance to talk about how proud he is of los vaqueros, and wants you to meet rudy when the relationship starts getting serious. has rudy drive you places when he cant, you end up paying for gas because you feel bad.

☆ big soccer fan (rudy caused this), piles soccer memorabilia onto shelves and cabinets. spends quite a bit of his time rearranging it with you, asking for opinions on if he should arrange it by years, rarity, etc. gets you jerseys :) (will not be pleased if you don't like the same soccer team as him)

rodolfo parra:

☆ definition of designated driver, nice clean car with constant familiar air fresheners that he routinely changes out. kicks alejandro out of shotgun every time he sees you, has pillows and blankets in the back for everytime you want to take a nap during a long drive

☆ certified wine drinker, has a soft spot for The White Mom (franzia sunset blush ‼️). occasionally allows himself more expensive wine if he's going out with you, will limit and pace himself throughout the night though so you can enjoy yourself

☆ not a spoon user, if he's able to grab it with a tortilla then he's doing it. accidentally burns many of them though because he leaves them on the stove too long while trying to watch you cook, he cannot cook all that well

☆ sprawler 100%, sleeps like a starfish and expects you to also sleep like a starfish or get off the bed (/hj </3). he accidentally kicked you off the bed once and wouldn't stop apologizing until a week later you elbowed him in the face while asleep, you guys keep count of the sleep fights you have (he lets you say you win)

könig:

☆ big boy, big heart 🫶 he's constantly worrying about if he's too much to handle with his anxiety. though he doesn't show it, he finds himself getting unnerved when at home without any distraction from it. ends up picking up many little hobbies with you to keep himself from spiraling

☆ uses his height to put things on the top shelves so you ask for help, denies it vehemently even though he despises certain things only you eat. only to find it on the very top cabinet, laughs when you attempt to get it before asking him

☆ long scalding showers, if his skin isn't bright red by the time he's done then he didn't shower properly (by his standards). runs naturally colder than most so he enjoys the warmth of the shower and the steam afterward. likes having you wash his hair even though it's impractical to bend himself in half for it, the hot water and fingers in his hair is bliss

☆ regularly gets prescribed muscle relaxers when he's on leave because he has muscle spasms, he usually waits till the very last second when the spasms turn from slightly painful to not being able to walk. self-medicates by you massaging the areas until they relax, complains that the medicine doesn't work as well as you do after.

kim "horangi" hong-jin:

☆ old habits die hard. he's the biggest spender out of all the boys, he's always coming home with new stuff outside of the grocery list when he convinces you to let him shop. only difference is that he can pay it now, and he finally has somebody to show the things he buys.

☆ finds anything tiger related very amusing, he ends up drawing little tigers on all loose papers. little comics of tigers with different patterns and masks are very common to find, and he will lightheartedly not be happy if you question who the tigers with little heart tails are supposed to be

☆ bad habit of leaving lights on when he leaves rooms, he always has to double check before you guys go out to see if he turned off all the lights. if he didn't then he always grabs a water bottle for you, if he remembered to turn them off then he walks back to the car patting himself on the back

☆ prefers handholding over kissing in the beginning, as he's scared that his scars will deter you away from him. as time goes on he becomes very affectionate with kissing your head or hands, though he tries to deny ever doing anything

[scuttlingcrab]

"The doublet is a magical item, so it can fit and mould to Raphael’s body no matter his form or temper." Now I'm just picturing Raphael transforming in anger while wearing the doublet and his rage is momentarily stopped when he realizes that it transformed with him and wasn't even singed.

Like, I could be incredibly angry with someone, but if I suddenly realized that my dress had pockets in it I know darn well that I'd need to at least stop and take a moment to marvel at that discovery before even thinking about continuing on with my anger. 😅

I was literally working on something similar when you sent your message! I've attached the ask below I was initially responding to. Thank you for your message anon and hope you enjoy! x

"Also, the idea of Raphael showing off his new clothes is just- It just tickles me! I can see him preening and flaunting like a peacock because of Tav's gift. I'd honestly read a sequel piece about that, if you want to write it. I've kinda already fallen in love with the whole idea of a luxury magic tailor Tav that the initial prompt fill and response has created as well as that Tav's potential dynamic with Raphael (and other characters *looking at Gale and his sewing needle quip*) and would absolutely be down to read more of that from you! 👀"

Summary: Raphael is caught off guard by his recent gift from Tav, so he decides to pay his little mouse a visit.

Notes: Read A Perfect Fit, which inspired this continuation.

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

Dressed to Kill 

Raphael stomped through the halls of the House of Hope, shedding his mortal skin. The doublet didn’t set fire when Raphael transformed, instead, it morphed with his growing size. The silk fabric soothed his ridged body, feeling like a warm embrace. Raphael suppressed a scream. Wretched mortal! The debtors scurried out of his path like rats, seeking the shadows for an ounce of solace from the blistering rage. 

He passed an open window and jolted to a halt. The blood-red light of Avernus caught the designs of his doublet, causing it to glimmer like diamonds. During his shift, the colour of his clothing changed. It now had a dark golden shimmer, the infernal embroidery a deep blue. He extended his arm, admiring the sleeve as he twisted it only slightly, and watched as the adornment reflected tiny devilish patterns onto the marble floors. The decorations moved, as if dancing. Another interesting, subtle detail.

Staring at these animations, Raphael’s breath calmed, his mind cleared. He stood taller, his head never held so high. Abruptly he spotted one of the debtors staring at him from his peripheral and lowered his hand, slowly turning to face them. Fire burned in Raphael’s eyes as he hissed, barring his sharp teeth. The debtor screeched before scurrying off to continue their meaningless eternal task. 

“If I catch just one more incompetent lackey idling about, I will impale your sorry souls on trees and leave you to rot. You are all interchangeable. Do not forget that.”

Raphael watched as the last debtor fled from his sight. He will not be caught off guard again. No. In fact… he will pay that creature a visit. 

–

Raphael materialised at the creature's camp in a swirl of flames and sparks, returning to his mortal disguise. 

The camp was quiet at this hour, the creatures asleep, separated into their individual makeshift tents. And what a ghastly camp it was, third-rate, at best. Miscellaneous equipment littered every corner, books lay discarded, shoddy clothes hung drying on trees, and the animals… When did these mortals domesticate owlbears? Savages.  

He slowly approached Tav’s tent, nestled towards the lake's shoreline. He parted the flap with an index finger and peeked inside. The creature was fast asleep, sharing her tent with that monstrosity Karlach. 

He watched them sleeping, so defenceless. He perked up at the thought. If he was so inclined, he could have easily ended their lives, consumed their souls before the tadpoles defiled them; all it would take is a snap of his fingers…

“Rise and shine, little mouse.” Raphael purred. 

Tav sprang up from her bed roll, clumsily readying a dagger from her sleeve. She held it out towards Raphael, one eye still closed, as she fought off the interrupted slumber. 

Karlach simply turned over in her bedding, yawning and stretching like a cat. She slowly opened her eyes, sitting upright when she spotted Raphael standing at the entrance.

He smirked in response, placing a hand on his hip.

“What the hell is this creep doing here?”

“Good evening to you too, Karlach. I am simply checking in on my prospective clients.”

Raphael bowed deeply, making sure to be as flamboyant as possible in his gesture.

“In the middle of the bloody night? Fuck off, devil.” 

Raphael slowly straightened himself, adjusting his sleeves. He aimed his cuffs towards the campfire, taking care to make sure the lighting was just right to highlight the devilish decorations. 

“Tut, tut, Karlach, language. If I wanted to hear such hideous sounds I’d speak with a lemure.”

Karlach leapt to her feet, the rickety infernal engine in her chest glowing brighter as she stared daggers at him.

“Karlach, please…” 

Tav raised a hand at Karlach, putting away her weapon. She rubbed away the rest of the sleep and focused on Raphael. Her face instantly lit up when she caught sight of his doublet. 

“You’re… wearing it?” Tav whispered. She brought her hands to her mouth, attempting to hide her flushed cheeks. 

“But of course! How could I resist such a delicious gift? It’s not often a devil like myself comes across a mortal with such curious tastes. Your attention to detail is…”

Raphael dramatically clasped his hands together, as if in a prayer. Yes, indeed. Thank the Gods up above for damning these poor creatures and sending them straight into his claws. 

“Superb!” 

“Hells, what have you done?” Karlach groaned, rolling her eyes. “I told you it was a bad idea.”

Tav gave Karlach a sidelong glance, narrowing her eyes. Raphael’s smile grew, devouring the creature’s disapproval and embarrassment. Almost as scrumptious as a soul.

“You are quite the seamstress. What else have you been creating on your adventures, hmm? I wonder, what would be the price for another item such as this? Perhaps we can come to some sort of agreement?” 

Tav’s mouth hung open at his words.

“I-I-uh, didn’t think that far ahead. Let me sleep on it.”

“Don’t keep me waiting, little mouse. You had my curiosity, but now… you have my full attention.”

Raphael raised his arms out wide, like a peacock strutting their finest feathers. He laughed as he surrounded himself in infernal flames. He had truly stumbled upon his greatest prize, his secret weapon to uniting the Nine Hells. Raphael would reach his target soon, that was for certain, but oh, oh yes... he would look hellishly chic in his pursuits. He would turn heads, devils and mortals alike.

[inawearyworld]

free if you truly wish to be: chapter iv

shit goes DOWN. as y'all have probably gathered. bc. yknow. the plot of the movie. but first there's a song yayyyyyyyyy

2023!wonka x oc, this chapter ~2.5k

god, i love musicals.

(edit: realized after posting that i was looking at the wrong page of the screenplay while writing this and therefore royally screwed up the song structure of a world of your own but it’s fiiiiiiine)

once again, thank you mat for that interview taking a typical one-dimensional dahl villain and letting him be a more complex character. also i should probably throw a content warning on this one for depiction of a slightly abusive relationship

but i promise everything's gonna be okay soon-happy new year everyone!!

part three fic masterlist part five

While going through a time of personal growth involving trying to unravel one’s identity from that of one’s rich and powerful husband, it often happens that there are advantages to said husband being wrapped in worry over a new business rival-and, therefore, spending far more time at the office.

Wren’s favorite advantage at the present moment was that she was the only one to watch the mail come in.

Deep purple stationery was the signal she looked for-and steadily received, then returned with her own emerald letters-every day. The notes included scrawled updates regarding the operation to allow the earnest young chocolatier his day in the sun, anecdotes about the group of launderers that supported it (who she’d snuck out to meet often enough that they now felt like a second family), tales of a mysterious orange man, and exchanges of advice, witticisms, and Shakespeare quotes.

The handwriting was inexperienced, and there were more than a fair share of spelling errors toward the start of their correspondence, but she didn’t care a whit.

We’ve got the shop, Willy had written one day. For now, the task is digging through its decrepit debris and designing its decoration. (The credit for those words goes to Noodle-she says hello.) There are so many possibilities, I barely know where to start.

Start with the “why”, Wren wrote back. That’s what I always do. If there’s a piece I’m struggling to sing and I lose motivation to practice, I go back to the reasons I love the piece, even all the way back to the reasons I love the arts in the first place. Maybe there’s something in there for your shop-what made you want to share your chocolate with the world? (And hello to you too, Noodle!)

My dear Wren, came the reply, you’ve just given me the best of ideas.

He told her then about his mother and the inspiration she provided. Wren would be lying if she’d said a tear hadn’t fallen onto that particular letter.

As for how to keep him safe from the Cartel, police, and every other corrupt authority, Wren did her part by becoming Florence again whenever necessary. She acted less suspicious around her husband, leading him to be less secretive-although the gain in information was miniscule, it was better than nothing.

Felix’s rages would range anywhere from tittering, jealous rants to scheming monologues during which his whole being seemed to take on a lower, darker, more calculating tone. She’d listen carefully to all of these, tactfully calling out anything that might get him to consider he was wrong, but that had little to no effect.

Plan B, then, she’d realized, is all I can do.

So, whenever Felix seemed particularly incensed or just on the verge of coming up with how to destroy his rival, Florence would swoop in with wine and dark lipstick and a low-cut dress. She’d endure being his caged pet songbird, his doll, his perfect plaything, only because she had the growing feeling that things were about to change.

If Willy’s shop becomes successful enough to be completely undeniable, maybe the Cartel will finally acknowledge him as an equal. Maybe I’ll finally be seen as an equal, too. Maybe things will finally be truly fine.

So, night after night, she’d sit on her husband’s lap, twirl his tie, and kiss his neck until he’d forgotten the name of Wonka.

The same could not be said for her.

~

Due to just how glamorized she always had to be while in public, it didn’t take much to come up with disguise enough to be able to visit the new shop on its opening day.

With a fluttering sense of hope, Wren approached the fourth building of the Galeries Gourmet, blending in seamlessly with the sea of soon-to-be-wonderstruck passers-by. She cast a few nervous glances to the window of the Fickelgruber office, at which the man stood in his usual stance. There was no chance, though, of his recognizing her trademark ginger flame amongst the crowd; it was safely tucked under a dark, low-brimmed hat.

This could have set her mind at ease, but the fact that he looked even more smug than usual as he surveyed the ground below him made her nervous.

Did they plan something?

She was distracted from this worry by a sudden flash of color at the long-empty shop’s door. Willy Wonka stepped through, looking more himself than she could have ever imagined. He addressed the crowd with a flourish, and she marveled at his ability to combine showmanship with authenticity.

He took a skeptical older man’s arm, leading him to the shop’s entrance, and began to sing.

All at once, the shop transformed before all of their eyes, flooding with color, and the music settled into a sparking pulse that thrilled Wren to the core.

Willy grinned, fully in his element, and the doorway went dark. Gloved hands presented chocolate wonders as their creator sang them into existence. When he lit a match, the store seemed to come alive, and Wren gasped.

If his letter was anything to go by, the sight he had created was an homage to his childhood on his mother’s boat, brought to life in a way nearly too beautiful to be true.

Willy and the other man danced up a bridge of sorts as his song continued, proudly offering his shop as a world for each of his customers to call their own. Overtaken and lifted by the enchanting environment, Wren squealed with the rest of the crowd and ran into the shop, ripping the hat from her head and allowing her auburn curls to tumble freely down.

She threw her head back and laughed aloud. Her lack of makeup, and plain blouse and skirt replacing the usual emerald-colored finery, gave her assurance that she wouldn’t be recognized here; this was the closest thing she’d experienced to liberation in a very long while, and she relished it, along with the sweetly simple soar of Willy’s voice across his song.

When she looked up at him again, he was sitting on the boat that floated on the circling chocolate river, and she noticed he’d already been staring with a sideways grin. As the bassline that came from nowhere launched into a rollicking chromatic vamp, he tipped his hat to her, and she gave an enamored wave.

The second verse passed, and suddenly he’d reached her, extending a hand which she took without a second thought. He helped her onto the boat, then pulled her alarmingly close, but before she could say a thing about it, a cloud of smoke appeared around them.

Wren blinked and realized that she and Willy were now at the base of the massive chocolate tree in the center of the shop.

“How did you-”

But he only smiled and started to dance his way up the tree.

“A world of your own,” he sang, then gestured an invitation straight towards her.

This’ll be easy enough, she thought, nearly bursting with joy.

“A place to escape to,” she continued, running farther up the tree to meet him in the middle. His expression filled with awe upon finally hearing her sing, and they began a whirling back-and-forth.

“A world of your own-”

“-where you can be free!”

“Wherever you go, wherever life takes you…”

“This is your home,” she sang to him, twirling herself into his arms and beaming with pride. He’s found it-he’s created it.

“A world of your own,” they finished. He looked at her for a moment, seeming struck, then kissed her hand and disappeared through the branches of the tree to continue with the song’s bridge. She let out a dazed and happy breath, taking a moment to let her gaze roam the shop from her perch in the chocolate tree.

She didn’t know what would happen next, but she’d be damned if she wouldn’t let herself enjoy this moment.

~

What did happen next was…as an understatement, not what any of them had hoped.

She wished she could say it was a complete surprise, and she wished she could have done more to stop it. The candy started having disastrous effects, the customers understandably balked, and it was clearly not Willy’s fault in the least. In a blur, the shop was in ruins, and Wren sat in shock with the little group who’d worked so hard to make it magical.

The candyman himself was devastated; not just by the massive setback, but by the absence of his mother’s spirit. Wren and Noodle sat by his side, but Abacus ushered them up. It broke Wren’s heart to think of leaving him like this-if the truest and most trusting dreamer on Earth can be broken down, where’s the hope for the rest of us?-but she somehow still felt she had to follow the group out.

She felt a hug around her waist and a held-back sob, and looked down to see Noodle clinging onto her. Wren immediately knelt to her level and hugged the girl close, finding it hard now to keep back her own tears.

“Terrible shame what-”

“Florence?”

Slowly, she opened her eyes, her breath dropping to the floor.

Slugworth had spoken first, a smooth and practiced opening to what would have turned into a gloat. The voice that had interrupted him was genuinely shaken and clearly belonging to her husband.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to Noodle, who nodded. “You can go, you shouldn’t have to see this-”

“Florence,” his voice came again, at a loss. She took a breath, stood up, and faced him with tears in her voice.

“Hi, Felix.”

Silence.

Slugworth looked with growing puzzlement between the woman and the girl, and Felix could only stare at his wife with dawning realization.

“You’ve been working with him,” he said simply, every usual quirk of inflection having vanished.

For a moment, the wash crew surrounded her in an attempt at a shield, and she heaved a breath to keep back a sob-of fear, of gratefulness for these friends that had become family over the past weeks, of everything suddenly crashing down.

“I’ll be okay,” she said quietly to the wash crew and perhaps to myself. “You all should go. Like you were going to. I’m sorry.”

They didn’t move.

She looked at Piper, whose worried hand was on her arm. There was an unspoken vow of protection between the women in that moment, but Wren’s eyes pleaded, so Piper nodded sadly, took Noodle’s hand, and the group left.

Wren was almost afraid to look at Willy, but she did; the boy was staring at the old chocolate bar in his hands, looking as if he could barely process a thing.

The sympathy in her gaze must have been far too obvious, because she suddenly heard footsteps, felt a hard grip on her wrist, and gasped in pain as it was yanked up and backwards.

“Darling,” Felix hissed with a sinister edge, though his voice was breaking, “I don’t know how or why this betrayal-”

“Betrayal?” she finally cried out, breaking free from his grasp as Willy rushed between them. “You lot have just poisoned dozens of innocent people, all for a business rivalry, and I won’t-”

“If you want your family not to starve, you had better lower your voice,” he barked.

Every speck of air seemed to leave the room.

“...My family?”

“I may have been distracted enough for the past weeks to ignore the mail that came in and out of our house, but I had not always been that blind. I thought your compassion to be an incomprehensible gesture, but I let it slide. When I felt like it.”

…They haven’t gotten everything I’ve sent.

They haven’t-

“In fact,” he continued, “it served as what was almost a pleasant reminder of the truth. For your family, for your stupid dream, and for your sweetly dependent soul-you need me.”

“If you knew I was poor, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because it’s the same way for me!”

This was the peak of what had been a building explosion, and this was the moment in which they both remembered there were other people in the room.

“What?” the four besides him breathed, almost in unison.

“Oh, you heard right,” Felix launched into speech, the characteristic gestures starting to work their way back into him. “I came from nearly nothing, just the same. But I did what I had to do to climb to the top. I cast them all away, left my old life behind completely, and I suppose it was a foolish hope to think my wife would do the same. But she-but you-you are nothing but a guileless, deceitful bleeding heart.”

“I…”

Tears blurred her vision.

“I am…genuinely sorry that you felt you had to hide your past, but that doesn’t excuse trying to make the rest of the world match your insecurity and fit your little chocolate mold. And if that makes me a bleeding heart…I’m proud of the title.”

For a moment, the man looked as if he would allow his wife’s words to affect him.

Then his face, normally so expressive, turned completely cold.

She’d lost him.

She’d never truly had him to lose.

But she looked at Willy, and she thought of the wash crew, and she realized she finally had a truer support system. And if she could try to start over, find some other way to earn money to send to her family without interception, and some other way to reach the dreams that felt so far away at the moment, she knew Felix would be wrong: she didn’t need him.

After a long silence, Slugworth cleared his throat.

“Get her out of here. We have business with Mr. Wonka.”

What?

Her and the younger man’s eyes widened, and they grabbed each other’s hands on instinct, but a small number of policemen came around the corner of the shop door at Slugworth’s order. They clamped hands on her shoulders and dragged her away from Willy as the Cartel stood silently and watched.

“Wait-wait, no, I-”

“Wren-”

She struggled, fought, kicked, but was forced into the backseat of a police car-

“Let me go, you corrupt bastards-”

“Wren-”

“Let me-”

“Just drop her somewhere in town,” Felix said coolly. “Somewhere that isn’t my home.”

“WREN!”

The car door was slammed, and the last thing she saw was the Cartel advancing on a dazed Willy, opening a suitcase of cash.

All she could do was scream, and the scream turned into a cry.

They did indeed drop her somewhere. She burst out of the car the second it had stopped, and the officers drove away without a word.

Sick with worry and trying to regain her breath, she looked around, almost fainting with relief when she saw the laundry building. Piper, having heard the commotion, stood outside, and they looked at each other for a moment before Wren fell sobbing into her arms.

This is not over.

[iwannascreameurekaa]

I don't understand how any of the seven get so much hate. They all have amazing characteristics, designs, personalities, backgrounds, etc. 

so I'm gonna explain why they're all amazing

Yay

Percy

Percy is the main character to the first five books so he has the most information shown about him than the seven since we read from his point of view in pjo and the Olympians. His whole thing of loyalty is incredible and the things he risked to save people he barely knew made him an amazing protagonist. 

Annabeth

Hello??? I know she's smart but that's not her only characteristic. She's blinded by her own powers and doesn't know how to handle things thrown at her when she can only rely on her emotions which is amazing cause ME TOO GIRLY she's a badass who also went through so much during HOO 

Leo

Built a whole ass ship, was manipulated and controlled into KILLING HIS OWN MOTHER OMGS MY HEART, was always singled out and felt like he didn't belong, SACRIFICED HIMSELF FOR HIS FRIENDS, and so much more!!!

Jason

This is where ima start defending for my life bc people who say Jason is boring don't understand his story. He was taken from his home, raised by wolves until he was around 2/3, raised the rest of his life until his was 16 in a camp where he was trained to be an actual child soldier, kidnapped and had his memory erased, watched his best friend DIE, and died for his other best friend !!! WHAT MORE DO YOU PEOPLE WANT????? OFC HES GOING TO BE BORING HE DIDNT KNOW WHO HE WAS OR WHAT HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE

Piper

I will hold you by the shoulders and stare directly into your soul until you give me a good reason to hate Piper bc she did nothing wrong. She just wanted her father's love and she never got it so what happened? She was sent or a wilderness camp where she was also manipulated into believing a random boy was her bf which entirely messed her up and it took her MONTHS ALMOST A YEAR to realize that she didn't have the feelings she was lead to believe. THEN SHE SAW HER EX HER BSF DIE IN FRONT OF HER????? I WOULD BE RUINED AFTER THAT OMGS 

Hazel

Excuse me, didn't she DIE in the 1940s to prevent the world from ending, came back, only to have to save the world AGAIN??? Not to mention that fact that she was bullied and harassed all her life before and after her death. Before her death she was always treated like the devil bc of her curse, even by her own mother. Her mom even neglected Hazel which is something NO ONE SEEMS TO TALK ABOUT. Then she has an unknown brother save her from the underworld and have to completely rebuild her life from scratch. At new rome she still wasn't treated right and was left out and made out to be a weird girl just like her old life. Tbh if that was me I wouldn't be shaking crying every time I saw someone. Also she learned how to control the mist which is pretty fricking cool okay I love her 

Frank

Let's just point out the obvious first. The reason Frank is not one of the most loved characters is because he is/was chubby. I'll say it, that is the reason. If he was skinny/fit more people would love him. That's probably why Rick did the transformation thingy thing where Frank got all buff. Which sucks because Frank is incredible and having one of the only character that's not skinny or muscly or as conventionally attractive have to change to those things just to be slightly more popular is STUPID!!!! I'm not hating on Rick I'm honestly hating on the fans who didn't love Frank because of the fact that he was chubby, whether they knew that was the reason they didn't like him as much as the other seven or not. His story is incredible. His mom going to war and her dying made my heart break while reading. his entire life force being attached to a piece of wood, so easy to be burned to nothingness, is SO GOOD. His awkwardness is so refreshing to see when characters are often portrayed as nonchalant and cool when in reality we're all losers 😭 

Really, there's no real reasons to hate any of the seven. You can have favorites, I have my favorites of course, but putting the other seven down doesn't do anything. You're just an asshole. 

[luvtonique]

Last night, a fuckin miracle happened

Tonight, at midnight, a payment is going into my credit debt that will completely eliminate it, and last night, $2000 was sent from my account to my friend Nemo to finalize paying him back for his loan that got me out of debt 4 years ago.

Tonight, at midnight, I will be debt free.

This is thanks to two donors, who donated a total of $8000 within 14 minutes of one another, wishing me a debt-free escape from California.

I have been attempting to contact them. I got in contact with one of the two, who donated $1000, and he's a complete bro and I fucking love the guy, gonna make him some pixel art as a thank you.

The other, she seems to have no means of being contacted that she left with the payment, and I can only hope she sees this.

I want to let her know how life-changing her $7000 donation is, and reward her as well with a pixel art piece.

I will also be asking both of these donors, assuming I can get in contact with the second one there, if they'd like to design characters for Melodi to be permanently immortalized in the game, even if just to give me names to give characters I design myself.

AND THERE'S A SECOND BIT OF NEWS.

Not only am I debt free, but I now have enough surplus of cash to print and ship Full Service Playing Cards Series 4.

It's been 2 years, and the guest artists have changed slightly due to some falling-outs I've had and opinions of me having changed. I also already raffled off the refunded guest-character slot from someone who didn't want to be in the deck anymore and wanted a refund.

I am redoing 100% of my art for the deck, and will be ordering the decks and personally mailing them out to the list of crowdfunders that I've been holding onto for the past 2 years.

I will be, before shipping, e-mailing every single backer of the original crowdfund and asking them if their shipping addresses have changed.

That's all!

Thank you so much, you two, this is literally life changing.

It's time to make good on this and never let this shit happen again.

[qsycomplainsalot]

Reseda green 1911 uniform

Sauce: RosalieLebel75.franceserv.com; lesfrancaisaverdun-1916.fr

First row : Modified reseda uniform c.1913 Second row : Reseda uniform concepts c.1910-11 Third Row : Reseda troop helmet and officer jacket made c.1911

Much like her adoption of a modern service rifle, the modification of France’s colorful uniform was started barely a few years before the start of World War 1, at a time when no change could have effectively been made before the start of the conflict. It's a time-honored tradition, where hindsight is 20/20 and rifles are 7/92.

Several modernisation projects ran concurrently between the years 1910 and 1914, but not all of them were quite as modern as they were claimed. For every Boer-inspired practical field dress, the state would bring in famed illustrators and painters like Edouard Detaille, whose practical considerations were vastly outweighed by the necessity to preserve bright red pants because "otherwise how the f*ck do you know who you be shooting at" [sic]. The most promising upgrade though was probably the so-called Tenue Reseda.

Edouard Detaille's new uniform proposal, featuring an early shade of the lighter blue used from 1915 to 1935.

Commissioned by French war minister Maurice Berteaux and designed by a team led by général Dubail, the reseda green uniform was one of the aforementioned several proposed reforms meant to provide better camouflage to soldiers. It was made up almost in its entirety of a verdigris cloth, using a pigment from the reseda plant. Rank and file soldiers were also equipped with a cork/pith helmet fitted with a removable brass comb/crest piece, meant not to protect about shell fragments but rather saber blows. This last and very ostentatious part was replaced in the field with a simple cockade. Cavalry units would retain their old armor pieces save a few light cavalry helmet models, and artillery crews were equipped with Edouard Detaille’s Mle1902 helmet. This was an overall satisfying design to a modern eye, but decidedly less so to Berteaux’s colleagues at the time. The design was bashed for being unsightly, unpatriotic and looking too much like the German feldgrau uniform, with many arguing that all the modernization French soldiers needed was putties and a cap cover. The project received its biggest blow when Berteaux got ran over by a biplane, as one does, and his successor Messimy did not back it to the same extent. The new minister otherwise noted the “experience [to be] conclusive on a tactical level, and I considered it beyond reproach”, and even later about the madder red pants that remained in service: “this blind and imbecile attachment to the most conspicuous of colors would have cruel consequences.” The reseda uniform would see one last review in a slightly modified version developed between 1912 and 1913, now retaining the very French red pants and epaulettes for maximum patriotic efficiency. The helmet was also modified to resemble the future Adrian Mle1915 even more closely, with a fixed brass comb. Neither it nor the two Detaille uniforms it competed with managed to get adopted. Messimy, in final attempt at modesty, pushed for an odd allegedly blueish-bruised color competitor made up of a combination of red, white and blue wools. As the war erupted a month after this final decision, the design was never put into large production and French soldiers marched into Alsace wearing the same uniforms as when they first lost it.

1912 review of prototype uniforms, featuring from left to right Detaille’s horizon blue type, Dubail’s modified reseda green type and Detaille’s steel blue type.

[justgallifreyanthings]

The new sonic screwdriver has been shown and it looks to have circular gallifreyan on it, I tried to translate it but got nothing, but I also just am not great at translating it. I figured you’d be the one to ask, can you find any actual words on Ncuti’s new sonic? Or just what are your thoughts about the new sonic :3

Hi! So as you mentioned in your other message, the sonic screwdriver is supposed to say “the sharpness of the tongue defeats the sharpness of the warriors”. However I’ve got other thoughts so I’m gonna do a bit of a vent anyway haha.

First things first, I say “supposed to” for a reason, because the phrase is missing all of the dot details that would make it legible per the Sherman’s Gallifreyan system, and it’s chock full of typos. The orientation of the words also differs, in that they’ve rotated every word slightly so the first letter is whatever’s closest to the outer edge of the screwdriver; in Sherman’s, the starting point doesn’t rotate like that.

Even accounting for the orientation change, the screwdriver currently reads “the tatpness fo the tongee befeets the tatpns fo the wat?iots”. Which….. lmfao.

So the net-net is that the BBC stole co-opted a fan’s system, and then used it wrong, even though there are literally people out there (like yours truly) who would jump at the chance to design an accurate and beautiful Gallifreyan piece for use on the show. For free even! For the sheer pleasure of adding “featured on the BBC” to my LinkedIn!

And all this because the BBC is too lazy to create their own consistent Gallifreyan system, but also too greedy to appropriately credit the artists whose work they’ve stolen for the show — artists plural! Sherman and Sirkles and who knows who else! — or to stop levying copyright strikes against other fans using Sherman’s fanmade system. When the BBC fully steals a fan’s work, it’s an easter egg, but when fans reference Doctor Who when making artwork in an unlicensed fanmade system, it’s theft of intellectual property? Make it make sense. (Spoiler: you can’t!)

I wish I could just feel overjoyed to see the fan community’s love for Doctor Who and interest in Gallifreyan incorporated into the show! In a different universe, this could be such a love letter between creator and fandom, a testament to the way that media and fandom weave together into something bigger than the sum of its parts. But in THIS universe, it just leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

[verdemoun]

hi im back on my "overlooked things" bullshit

the gang and clothes. oh god that must've been chaotic. What the fuck do you mean you don't have to wear a union suit. What do you mean you??? Just??? Get to dress however you want??? Hello whY IS THERE SO MANY WOMEN WEARING PANTS WOW???

Comfort clothes. Kieran and clothes was already mentioned once, but I'm thinking about others. Some stick to their style, probably. I see Hosea as such a guy. John is living out his emo dreams /j

Charles, his newfound hobby of (insert vague gesture here) you know, and special clothes for this sort of thing. And protection. Good gloves, goggles, all that. Mate's in heaven. You cant tell me otherwise.

The first shopping trip is a fucking journey every time a new person appears. The availability. Prices. The materials. PRINTS. (I work with prints on fabric and lemme tell you. That shit is wild even for me. Let alone 1899 people.) The vast amount of styles and all that.

And, dumbass designs of course. The weird ones you can get from AliExpress or whatever and it's a fucking trip every time. As much as I wanna say it's Sean who discovers those first, I'd say it's Arthur. My guy wasn't too quick to learn tech and stuff so he saw a nice tshirt for a low price, ordered it, and he didn't look at it what was written.

His 1899 mindset of "i have it therefore it cannot be thrown away i can't afford more" wins out and he keeps it. You can't tell me otherwise.

welcome back always get the happiest hand flapping stim getting to long asks

absolutely assuming every woman who wears pants is a lesbian for the longest time

wearing pajamas for the first time. clothes being so plentiful they have a designated for sleep. and sleepwear being so much more comfortable than a union suit or ye olde undergarments the first time most of them wear flannel is a life changing experience.

bessie accidentally bought hosea clothes whenever she saw something she thought her husband would like it was her way of coping with him being gone for so long. he is rocking the brown loafers looks like he owns a yacht the beige pants but also coziest old man sweaters

john and arthur both just wear slightly modernized versions of their regular clothes they are dorks. john has the black leather bikie jacket with stupid fashion belts and buckles he looks amazing like generic punk outfit

CHARLES bordering on hoarder with the gloves. guilty of buying gloves in different colors just because he likes the color even though he already has 3 pairs of the same glove. most of the time enjoying the comfort of looking like a southern dad with the plaid and jeans but also work pants with the extra knee padding and a dozen pockets a different tool in every pocket walking down the street need a screwdriver? tape measure? wrench? electrical tape? timber screws? always on hand.

lenny and sean are the temu fashion disasters. bird shirts floral prints galore. the technicolor because it's so new to them!! the most hideous busy patterns but somehow making it work

sean accidentally bought a blue lives matter shirt and lenny had to draw the line and explain sean no. he started wearing it inside out instead of throwing it out and attempted to bleach the crappy iron off

arthur is so self conscious and so convinced he is ugly he is hyperaware of not sticking out in modern era he went through plain shirt and unremarkable pants for months. guilty of having a hoodie he won't leave the house without until he eventually settles on just modern era gunslinger outfit. owns 4 versions of the same outfit because he has npc energy in modern era can fit every piece of clothing he owns in a backpack.

[prerodinu]

New Muses: The Bunnies

The Bunnies are one organism. They are one whole entity made up of several components.

The Bunnies were created by a witch (her lore is here when I make it) who was created as a manifestation of friends for her for a time. Little bunnies she had found and then changed into humans by a process that only she knows. That only she can do.

The Bunnies changed with time as she grew. Sometimes the Bunnies would freak out and other times they would be too docile for her. Sometimes The Bunnies would be her lovers, while she couldn't get the downstairs to work, she was trying to figure that out.

Until she came across a witch beating her familiar. Something she deemed punishable by not only death but a very very slow one.

Thus this current Managiarie of The Bunnies was born.

These Bunnies changed from the animals that she took from witches who abused them and changed them. Changed them into men.

Fully functional men.

Which was the difference between The Bunnies before and the Bunnies now.

For her transformation process, the witch picked out different literature that best matched them. This was also designed to make sure that anyone who came upon them, female or male, would want them. Would desire their sweet words or their surly attitudes.

The Bunnies themselves have different supernatural features, designed to be alluring like vampires are to drag you closer to them. And when you do get closer to them, they morph into your every desire. Every want.

The Bunnies although loved by the with (who is named Bunny) she never actually gave them names. She didn't feel it was right to do so. Especially since so many people could come upon them and the desired name for said Bunnies might differ from person to person.

So when you ask your Bunnies their name. They will ask YOU what you think their name is. They will make you guess so many names until your eyes dilate and you find one that brings you lust, joy, or pleasure and that is the one that they pick.

Each Bunnie has a different personality, each made with a different piece of literature that makes up their core, their middle, and their outside.

Their core is the spark that brought them to life. Their middle is the deeper things, not surface level but slightly more into them. Their outside is the surface level. The things they seem like but change when you get to know them more.

The Bunnies are as follows.

Made from: A Miniature Lop Bunny.

Core: A poem called 56 by Dawn Lanuza (find it here) Middle: A poem by Louise Kaufmann ( find it here) Outside: Pieces of him scattered across every gym you have ever seen a himbo at heart a dazed expression on his face whenever he sees you. The Mark: Their eyes. Both of them are a milky blue-green swirl, often you won't see them and it's covered by their hair.

Made from: A Carrion Crow

Core: A poem by Edgar Allen Poe (find it here) Middle: A piece of the Poem a Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allen Poe (find it here) Outside: Every man you see walking past you with a scar you wish to trace with your finger-tips. Every man in a mask you wish to uncover but find you don't want to ruin the surprise for yourself. The mark: their wrist, always has their wrist covered and or very long sleeves.

Made from: A D'Albertis/White Lipped Python

Core: Apollo to Icarus by Nikita Gill (find it here) Middle: A poem by Atticus (find it here) Outside: The man who stands up for you in a bar, who smiles that fanged smile before disappearing off into the night. The man you dream about with jawbones and you joke to friends he just might have pointed ears but you are unsure. He is the man from every Fae movie and tv show you can't help but fall in love with. The Mark: their thighs, the back specifically. They are always going to wear pants or shorts to cover it.

Made from: An Arctic Wolf

Core: Hades to Persephone by Nikita Gill (find it here) Middle: A quote from Kurt Kobane (find it here) Outside: Every male lead in the 90's who wasn't good enough for the main lead. Think Dean from Heathers. A man you want to want but find him scary. Who smells of blood, incense, and forest. He scares you with his grin but you want him nonetheless. The Mark: the inside of their palms. They are almost always wearing gloves or covering their palms from view.

Made from: A Artic Fox

Core: every time you take a breath of cold air and feel it solidify in your lungs as you move through the forest. Blood of a fresh kill and the soft northern lights. The softness of watching the snow fall from inside as you snuggle up with someone. Middle: A Poem by Perry Poetry (find it here) Outside: Introvert by Ritika Jain (find it here) Their Mark: their right ear is scared, they always have their hair to cover it.

Please know that these Bunnies will act differently with everyone. They are going to try to be everything you want at their core. They need it to survive. If you do not give them or feed them what they need. They will leave.

Each bunny also has a part of them they always keep covered. A mark of their transformation. Some it's their hands. Other's its their wrist or neck. Sometimes it can even be an eye. Most likely they will never show you and if you go to touch it. They will back away.

[ishouldbedoinghw]

You Can't Erase Me

One Piece Fanfic, Part 5

Previous parts are in my pinned masterlist.

A woman enslaved by the celestial dragons is found by a man with red hair. Angst ensues.

A/N: This story will follow the canon loosely; some events will stay the same, others will be edited for the plot. The timing of events will also be slightly edited from canon so that certain characters are included. The main character is an OC of mine and in her mid-20s. Yes this is important. Character design will likely come soon.

TW: discussion of trauma, general angst, Shanks,

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

My world stayed confined to that room at first, Hongo bringing me food and examining me daily. The medicine he gave me kept the pain in my back down to a dull twinge, and he changed the bandage occasionally, cleaning it as he did so. He kept silent at first, then over time, as we continued our little daily ritual, he talked more and more. It was mostly complaining about Shanks or other members of the crew, or muttering about how each of the treatments he gave me worked. He seemed nervous to mention he and the crew were all pirates, but as I wasn't sure I knew what a pirate was, I couldn't find a reason to care. I enjoyed listening to him chat, and tried picturing each of the crew members when he spoke of them.

I didn't reply often, choosing instead to listen in silence. It wasn't that I wasn't curious, I simply didn't want to irritate him.

True to his word, Shanks returned to the room every now and then, mostly cracking jokes, bugging Hongo, and occasionally asking me questions. He was certainly more talkative than the grumpy doctor, and seemed to be on a personal mission to make me laugh. He hadn't managed it yet, but he never faltered with the corny jokes, often more stupid than funny.

I grew comfortable in my new routine; I'd wake up from a deep, dreamless sleep to Hongo waiting with a plate of food, ready to check me over. I'd eat my fill and listen to him "bitchin'," as Shanks called it, about whatever crew member had already irked him that morning. When it wasn't Shanks, it was Yasopp or Lucky Roux. Hongo often complained about them being too loud or too messy, but I couldn't help but wish I could hear the life he described outside the door.

The one question I'd dared to ask was in regards to my hearing, to which Hongo replied as gently as he could that he really didn't know if there was anything he could do to help.

Under his watchful eye, I slowly started moving around more, feeding myself with ease, and even walking around, though I couldn't hold myself up for long periods of time. Often, when he was gone, I would creep up to the door and strain to listen. Occasionally, I'd catch some muffled conversation or laughter, or heavy footsteps. I quickly learned how to discern Hongo's or Shanks's gaits, and would quickly retreat to bed if I heard them approach - Hongo didn't exactly like it when I roamed around without him.

What I wanted to hear the most, however, was the sea. The only clue I had that I was even on a ship was occasional rocking or the creaking of wood.

I wasn't sure how, but I knew that the sea was salty, and I could recall some feeling of wind blowing my hair and the smell of salt and fish. As I felt the short, prickly hairs on my head, I wondered if the memory was real, or some fantasy I'd made up on my own.

With each passing day, I had more and more questions about who I was, and where I really came from. There had to have been a before the cage that I just couldn't recall - but what was it?

Was my hair long once? Did I have a family? How old was I? What was my name? Why did I like sea king meat better than squid? Had I always preferred one over the other? Why had I been in that cage? When had I been put there?

The muddle of questions in my head was always confusing. It felt a bit stupid to wonder about things like my hair when I couldn't even remember how old I was, or if I had parents. I constantly stared at the wall across from my bed, trying to picture myself with parents or siblings, seeing which combination of the two made the most sense.

I had to have parents, the picture in my head always had a mom and a dad. I would've sworn up and down I had a brother, it didn't feel right to not imagine one. Sisters were the one thing I couldn't grasp at all- or maybe I was wrong about all of it, maybe I never had a family and my life had always been the cage, maybe I hadn't come from any place of love, like I pictured a real family to be. Had I ever been given a hug? Had my mother ever kissed me goodnight? Had I ever played with other children? Did I ever have friends? It made me sick to my stomach to think the only person that had ever touched me was that man- no, Hongo and Shanks touched me.

Touched me because they had to? Or did they really want to?

I groaned, leaning my head back and pinching the bridge of my nose.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

One, two, three, four.

Four, seven; seven, four.

What did these damn numbers mean? Why couldn't I get them out of my head? Were they important?

Counting to them was soothing, at the very least. The itch that they meant something wouldn't go away, but I found comfort in repeating them regardless.

The door slammed open, making me jump.

"Hey, girlie." It was Hongo, and he seemed a bit more cheerful than usual. "Ship's empty, and you reek. Since you can move around, I figured you'd like to wash up."

"I'm leaving this room? Going out the door?" I blurted before I could stop myself.

Hongo seemed to grimace a bit. "I guess I'd go stir crazy looking at the same four walls, huh? Sorry, girlie, I should've known you wouldn't like being all cooped up like this."

He seemed lost in thought as he held out his arm for me. I gripped his forearm tightly, and for a moment I was surprised to feel nothing but thick muscle under the doctor's skin. It would make sense, I reasoned, that he would be ridiculously strong - he was a pirate.

But how did I know pirates were strong?

I held my breath as he opened the door and we stepped out into the hallway. The sight was - a bit anticlimactic, but it didn't do much to quell my excitement.

The ship wasn't rocking too badly today, I noted, and the lack of a crew made me wonder if we were docked somewhere.

That's a stupid thought, where would the crew even go if we weren't docked.

I flushed in silent embarrassment. Hongo didn't notice, only looking down at me if I stumbled.

The bathroom wasn't anything extravagant, but I was giddy to see it anyway. It sported the same wooden walls of my room, with a row of showers along one side. A white tub stood alone against the opposite wall, and a row of sinks I wasn't sure I could even reach stretched directly opposite the doorway.

"I cleaned it best I could for you," Hongo said as he led me to the tub. "To be honest, I'm not sure how many of the crew members even bathe regularly, so it doesn't get too dirty anyways."

He left me leaning on the side of the tub as he strode quickly over to one of the sinks, retrieving a fluffy towel and a couple of bottles.

He looked a bit sheepish as he set everything down on the tub's rim.

"I got these for you - didn't think you'd want to use our shit."

"Thank you."

He looked a little surprised to hear me so eager, but seemed pleased nonetheless.

"Let me take your bandaging off, I can replace it when you're done."

My fingers were fidgety as I held the back of my shirt up for him, eager to get out of my grimy clothes. He worked quickly, balling up the bandaging in his fist. when he was done.

"I'll leave you to it - yell if you need anything." and he was out the door.

It seemed a little silly to be excited over something like a bath, but as I turned the knobs attached to the faucet, I found it hard to contain my excitement. As the tub filled with warm, steaming water, I shakily undressed myself, tossing the ratty shirt and shorts to the ground. For some reason, it struck me as odd to not be wearing anything underneath, but I shook the feeling away as I lowered myself oh-so-carefully into the water.

It was a tad too hot, but I groaned in pleasure at the sensation anyway. I soaked up the warmth and relaxed my limbs completely, sinking down and submerging my body in the water. I stayed like that for a while before grabbing one of the bottles Hongo had left.

Strawberry scented shampoo. For sun-damaged hair.

I let out a small giggle. I had hardly any hair, but I couldn't help but lather it over my scalp anyway, reveling in the feeling. The other bottle was also strawberry-scented, and I studied every inch of skin I could see as I scrubbed my body.

The bruising around my hips was a dull yellow-green now, and any scratches I'd gotten were barely visible. I had a dark birthmark on my right calf, and I counted seven or so dark dots over my torso and legs. My feet were calloused, and the skin around my neck felt rougher than it should be.

The thing that drew in my attention the most, however, was the odd pattern of white scars that stretched over the top of my right thigh. For some odd reason, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd seen these marks before, and as I pressed and pinched on the skin, I tried to see what shapes they seemed to make.

Over a dozen little scars, three separate groups of them. As I leaned in closely, stretching the skin to make the color clearer, I choked.

They were letters.

J. I could make out a capital J. I tried to convince myself I was seeing things and making a big deal out of nothing, but the more I looked at the little scratches, the more prominent the letter became. It had to be J.

The next little group was so obvious I could've slapped myself. E.

J. E. H? The last few scratches were messier, two vertical, parallel lines with a large, perpendicular slash through them.

What did they stand for? Were they initials? Something else?

No- H didn't seem right. I felt it in my bones that H wasn't right. I pressed my lips together, studying the marks.

My blood went cold. TT. It was TT. J E T T.

J E T T. JETT. It had to be. What was JETT? What did it mean? Was it an initial, as I'd thought before?

JETT. Jett-

I screamed. I screamed until there was no air left in my lungs, and my throat ached. I clamored out of the tub, trembling and grabbing the towel, wrapping it around myself before I crumbled to the floor.

"HONG-" I didn't even have to finish before Shanks burst through the door, chest heaving. My head went fuzzy as I met his gaze, and my eyes grew heavy. I felt forced to the floor, about to lose consciousness- and then nothing. The feeling simply left, and I struggled to push myself upward again.

"Spooky! Look at me, are you hurt? What's wrong-"

"Nothing," I rasped, struggling to form words. "Shanks, I-" I tried to swallow, but my throat seemed to stick to itself.

"Shit, I overdid it, I'm so sorry," Shanks knelt next to me, holding me upright and scanning me over.

I steadied my breathing, then gripped the arm holding me.

"I know my name," I choked out finally, "My name is Jett."

Shanks visibly relaxed, settling on the floor a bit. Not even a full minute had passed when he started laughing. Full on witch-like cackling, as if I'd just said the funniest thing in the world.

He didn't speak when he finally stopped, he just withdrew his hand from me to shrug off his coat and sling it around me. I had barely registered that he only had one arm when he pulled me toward him, crushing me into his chest.

I didn't understand why I started sobbing. I was so unbelievably happy, but I couldn't stop hot tears form pouring down my already-soaked face.

Shanks leaned down and pressed a kiss onto the top of my head, squeezing me tighter.

"Nice to meet ya, Jett."

[pbandjesse]

Today did not go as planned and honestly I feel really bad today. I am just absolutely exhausted and it's insane how I have not been able to get anything done at all today.

And I know it's because I worked until 1 am. But I thought I would sleep and be good but I just was not and it sucked.

I had a lot of fun last night. The wedding went great. The couple was super nice. I had a mango sorbet push pop and a piece of blueberry cake. It was a little hectic. I had to tell Jesse he was doing to much. That he's great at the job but he's making himself stress for no reason.

There was only one stress last night and it was when the women's room completely ran out of toilet paper and I couldn't find Jesse or the keys to change the rolls. That was embarrassing but we handled it after a bit of running around. Those stupid dispensers are the worst though and I hit my elbows every time I went to change one. Terrible design.

Clean up went fine. Jesse did his best to restrain himself and stay behind the desk and let me be in charge. And overall I did great except one of the doors I locked was unlocked again and I forgot to make sure catering brought all the trash cans back inside. So I would have to deal with that but it was all good.

We took some extra time to go over the lights and I remembered where almost all of them were. And he showed me how to lock the gates. And then we were off.

I was really happy to be home. My shoes were doing good until right at the end. I had tried to just sit for a bit during the last hour of the party and was just knitting but when I got up again I guess my feet had swollen and so I spent our last 45 minutes during lights out barefoot. I was just really excited to go home. I'm also going to start bringing slippers to change into like I do at camp.

I got home right at 1. And I was tired but I had some stuff I wanted to accomplish first. I held sweetp for a bit. I took a really excellent shower. And I tried on the new things I got myself yesterday. James briefly woke up and kissed my hand. And soon I was getting in bed and going to sleep.

Had to wake up 3 times to pee. And the last one when when the sun was fully up and making our room so bright. I would put a sleep mask on and go back to sleep.

I hate sleeping until 10. Always have. But James was there and tried to be encouraging. They said that we would need to replace Crabcake's light and heating element which both seemed to stop working. And that we had a full errands to run anyway. Cate and Ross would be coming by around 11 to drop off the bookcase they are getting rid of. So I had time to take a quick wake up shower and get dressed.

I actually wore eyeliner today and I did it slightly different then normal and felt really pretty. My hair always was looking pretty nice. I have razor cut some of the top layers before I went to bed last night and I guess I just needs the movement.

James made me an omelette and a hashbrown. And I ate it outside on the porch swing. I asked for a sprite but it ended up tasting repulsive to me. Very odd. But water was fine.

I wasn't feeling amazing. I put on my best face when Cate and Ross came through. I was happy to see them. And they were so kind to bring us their old book shelf. It will be great in the studio for all of our art books.

They didn't stay long. They had other people to drop things off too and meet with. So we said goodbye and I let myself go lay back down outside.

James said that when I was feeling up to it we could go run errands. We apparently had a miscommunication in this. I thought that they meant that they were ready and so when I was okay enough we would just go. So I gave myself a mental deadline of noon.

But when I was ready all of a sudden James wasn't. And they were all rushed and I was super confused. But I was like. Okay it's fine. I felt exhausted and not thrilled. But James was being really complimentary and telling me how pretty I was and how pretty our baby is going to be, make all the other babies jealous. I was trying to put a happy face on.

But then we get to the pet store and I find out James never checked the heating element and the bulb plugs to make sure they didn't just get turned off. And I wasn't happy that we were going to spend $80 on a maybe. And then James says it's because we rushed out of the house. And they forgot the stuff they needed to do the hardware store run. And I was just. Done. I was so close to tears in the turtle care aisle.

I told James I never even wanted to come out. I felt terrible. I was so tired and uncomfortable and I just wanted to go home. I just kept saying it and I felt like I was stuck in a loop. James said okay let take you home and apologized but we had a very silent drive home.

When we got back here I went and laid down and James collected what they needed. The turtle light and heating element were working fine. And they promised to send me a picture of the menu at Rita's to get me something still.

So they left. And I laid there. And I didnt sleep. I was so very tired but I did not sleep.

Around 2 James was home. They brought me a lemon flavor misto. I had never tried that before but it was nice. And I had that and a pretzel stick. And then I fell asleep. While James working on setting up our dryer (and then doing our first load of laundry in our house!!). And I slept.

I slept until almost 5. And I felt horrible. I feel slightly less horrible now but it was very bad. I was dizzy and nauseous and dehydrated. I felt like I had been running the way I was huffing and puffing. I was not having fun.

Drinking water helped. James made us spaghetti for dinner. We laid in bed together. I can't seem to find the right temperature but I tried to just be calm. I picked out outfits for the week. And we filled out my check in documents for my appointment on Thursday. But mostly we just rested.

Now I'm in the bathroom tub. Considering having a bowl of cereal. But mostly I just want to go to sleep. I'm not sure what tomorrow will hold. If I'm going to go to camp or not. If I still feel this bad in the morning I will probably stay home. And I am trying hard to not feel bad about that.

I hope you all have a good night. Sleep well and be safe. I love you dearly. Good night!

[scarlet-cookie]

Ink Demonth 2024 Day 15 : Draft

It was already after hours, and Alan had begun to turn off the lights in the building. Gent corp wasn’t massive, at least not yet— he definitely had plans for expansions, but for now, it was more like a standard office building.

“Good night boss!” A group of youngsters approaching the exit called out to him in a gleeful tone. Alan waved back casually, causing the keys in his hands to jingle. “Don’t forget to flush the toilet tomorrow, Darryl.” He gave a light warning. 

“I- what do you mean?” One of the young men exclaimed, before his face turned red. “Right- ah, right..”

Alan watched quietly as the last group of workers left the building for the night, smiling to himself. He was just about to lock up the building when he suddenly stopped at the door’s threshold.

Thump! Thump! Thump! 

He glared up at the ceiling above.

……..

Thomas sat down at his desk again, heaving a sigh of relief. In every aspect, he was an adult. But he couldn’t help but intentionally lower his noises when Alan is about to lock the building, like a little child hiding from their father. 

He liked having some quiet time to himself in the Gent corp building. Besides, he was the one putting in the money to buy candles and matchsticks for a light source. It wasn’t like he was using the electricity or anything. As for water amenities, he often held it in until he got home, which was just a few blocks away.

He looked down at the large piece of paper covered in notes, sketches and ideas in front of him.

The corners of his lips curved up a little.

Jingle..

“Knock knock.”

Thomas jolted slightly at the noise. He turned back to see Alan Gray standing in the doorway, playing with the keys in his hands that didn’t make any noise until now.

His small smirk froze on his face.

“As usual.” Alan caught the keys in his palm, laughing exasperatedly. “You really don’t change in this part.”

Thomas didn’t need to give him an explanation nor excuse. It was something he had been doing for years. His eyes simply twitched at the sight of Alan’s mischievous face.

Every time Alan had caught him, so Thomas subconsciously made it a personal goal to not get caught by Alan, even for a single night.

Regardless, it still wasn’t successful.

“Are you still working on that commission?” Alan asked, approaching Thomas’ desk to a certain distance. “Wow, you got a lot done today!”

Thomas looked down at what was a blank paper in the morning, now a comprehensive draft of a certain contraption. He felt rather proud of himself, even though the client was infuriating.

It was something unlike anything he’d ever designed before, nor had he ever seen before. It wasn’t exactly perfect, but it should satisfy the client’s wishes.

To be honest, when he wasn’t truly focused, he sometimes even hated this project. It was something extremely demanding, but a part of him also yearns for the thrill of a challenge, and something new.

It was something crazy.

Alan waited for Thomas to show some pieces of the draft to him, casually inspecting it.

“It’ll truly be something new.” Alan remarked. “Although, you forgot..” Alan pointed to a section and explained Thomas’ mistakes in this part.

“Ah, right.” Thomas acknowledged, turning back towards the desk to figure out a way around it. 

Alan simply watched as the man tinkered on, like a determined child trying to complete a difficult assignment.

“I thought you’d drop out of the commission already.” Alan chuckled dryly. “I mean, like I always said, you don’t have to take it if you can’t stand it anymore.”

Thomas paused for a second, looking at the draft in front of him.

On top of it wrote “The Ink Machine”.

He stared blankly outside for a few moments.

“It’s.. something I gotta do, I guess.”

Alan laughed lightly, acknowledging Thomas’ stubbornness.

“It’ll be a wonderful machine.”

Bendy : The Untrusted AU

[chaewandz]

ROSE — chapter 08: an invitation

synopsis: after she turns 18, y/n’s parents arrange a competition for young suitors in her town to compete for her love, a family tradition that brought about her parents’ marriage. twelve men are selected, but who will win her heart?

“so who’s on the bottom of the pyramid?” sakura deadpanned, sketching a pyramid design in her diary.

“BOTTOM OF THE PYRAMID? WE’RE MAKING A PYRAMID NOW?” y/n replied, completely appalled as she glanced at the paper.

“well how else are we supposed to rank them…” sakura whispered, briefly lifting her pencil from the book.

the five friends sat crowded together on the floor of y/n’s bedroom, hours after the ball finished trying to piece together whatever had just happened.

“I think it’s fair personally.” isa interjected, earning a laugh from y/n as the rest of the girls slowly nodded their heads and shrugged their shoulders.

“absolutely not.” y/n shook her head. it wasn’t even that she necessarily felt bad about ranking them, it was more that it was impossible. at least at this stage it felt that way.

plopping backwards onto his neatly made bed, niki let out a large sigh. since he was the last contestant, his interaction with the princess remained clear as day in his mind. he kept replaying it over an over, face palming when recalling how embarrassing he’d acted.

it was now about 12 in the morning. once the ball had finished, the princess said her final goodbyes and the suitors were escorted out of the hall and into their own bedrooms where they would be spending the rest of their stay, however long it may be.

it felt awkward sleeping alone, the lack of sunoo’s white noise machine in his new royal bedroom made for a sense of relief, but also made niki homesick. he wasn’t sure what he’d gotten himself into exactly. sure, he did feel drawn to y/n in those moments they had shared but the fact that she’d shared similar maybe even more romantic moments with eleven others left him severely lacking confidence. a situation the self employed, unpaid photographer often found himself in.

but nonetheless, niki tried his absolute best to convince himself they had something different. that although the other suitors had shared their own versions of chemistry with her, particularly one with pink hair by the name of heeseung-

weirdo. WHY was he so close to her.. YOU DONT KNOW HER!!! WE ARE ALL IN THE SAME BOAT AS YOU PLEASE RELAX…

niki had to slap his own face to get him out of that selfish trance. as he was saying, he believed his feelings towards her in that moment were the most genuine. in that moment he didn’t want anything except for her. he almost wished this wasn’t so complicated and that she was just someone he’d met at a coffee shop. not future queen of adora. but alas, he couldn’t change what was already destined to happen. he frowned at the thought and fell asleep in seconds because of course the kingdom’s beds were just that comfortable.

but, his resentful slumber was soon interrupted by a knock at the door. groggily, he reached over to his bedside table and lazily moved his hand around trying to find the switch for the bedroom’s chandelier.

“fucking ridiculous…” he whispered to himself as he stared at the diamond chandelier that was probably worth more than every contestant combined. after pushing his hair back and quickly glancing in the mirror, he opened the door with a relaxed smile.

he wasn’t sure who he was expecting, but a butler the same height as riki himself left his smile drooping slightly. tilting his head to the side, riki searched for some kind of an answer.

“for you sir.” the butler announced, placing a white silk pillow atop a leather chest in riki’s hands. he then bowed and was gone in the blink of an eye, like he was never there to begin with.

examining the ‘gift’, riki noticed a carefully folded note placed neatly at the center of the pillow. placing the pillow/chest on his bed, he began to unfold the note.

“welcome to the castle of adora! we hope you are enjoying your stay so far and that everything is precisely what you’d imagined from the most prestigious royals. tomorrow morning at 9:30 am sharp, your presence is requested in the breakfast hall for a delightful meal with none other than the Princess. in the leather chest you will find your outfit for tomorrow’s event. thank you!

p.s. there is more to come!”

niki stood staring intensely at the note, rereading each line over and over again. once he snapped back into reality, he tossed the card to the side of his bed. as softly as possible, niki unlatched the locks keeping the contents of the leather chest concealed. just as described in the letter, (which felt more like an aggressive notice from a landlord), his breakfast outfit laid there alongside a classy perfume. he took note of the fact that the interior of the chest was made of velvet. truly how much money did this family have? shaking his head, niki sighed and messily closed the chest and placed it on the vanity that sat below the large windows of the castle.

practically leaping onto his bed, niki scrambled underneath the covers and fell asleep in seconds yet again, except this time there was no mysterious butler to interrupt him.

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author’s note: CHAEWANDZ COMEBACK! Sorry this is truly just a filler but I really wanted to upload SOMETHING. I’m very sick rn like bed ridden so I’ll be able to write a lot tomorrow and whatnot. I’m so excited for this story Omg. I SAW ENHA IN NYC??? I must announce that enhypen is even prettier irl. NIKI WALKED NEXT TO MY SECTION IT WAS ACTUALLY UNREAL. the video is so funny gn maybe I’ll post pics from the concert later if anyone wants them. anyways. I love enhypen.

taglist: (open!! italicized + bold means unable to tag 😕) @cwsana @emoworu @strwberrydinosaur @justbored48 @flwrsforriki @deafeningballoonnacho @faiirybread @captivq @1lovestrawberrymilk @bigtoewinwin @mingyuswrld @yeletbz @palajae @sd211 @shinsou-rii @nomurahayami

send an ask to be added!!

synopsis: after she turns 18, y/n’s parents arrange a competition for young suitors in her town to compete for her love, a family tradition that brought about her parents’ marriage. twelve men are selected, but who will win her heart?

[cookierunauprompts]

Arcane egg: Her familiar, Charcoal loaf.

Yup, you read that correctly. Arcane has a familiar! And he’s a little bastard! But like in a fun way. 

First things first, what does he look like? He’s a shapeshifter spirit that arcane accidentally made by combining some of her personal magic, with some magic of her virtue, with a very special magical ink. As a result he’s an inky black malleable little blob when he’s not in his cookie form, of course he takes the shape of a cat. But tbh he can be any creature he really wants if he puts enough effort into it. Also you read correctly he has a cookie form, here look (design subject to changes.)

Now, what’s this cat like? A little bit of a bastard I must say, he trolls and messes with most people. And one of the only exceptions is Arcane egg. Even then he’s very sassy, also since he’s a spirit he has a very different morality system compared to cookies. He’s on the orange and blue morality spectrum while everyone else is black and white, this way of thinking applies to all spirits. But he cares very deeply for arcane, even if you think he doesn’t.

That’s why during the story he’s not afraid to give the other beasts shit for being mean to Arcane, you don’t treat someone you care about like that. Even in his books, you just don’t. Period. He gets this strong sense of devotion and defiance unsurprisingly from Arcane, but that’s not the only reason. 

Back when he was first made, arcane wasn’t around because he came to a bit after the fact when the ink and magic mixed. And let’s just say the cookies around him were terrified, and as a result he was severely frightened. He just came into existence after all, so he escapes and hides in the building's attic. A few hours pass and he’s still so scared and confused, he feels so unwelcomed in this realm. Like he doesn’t belong. 

Until a pair of footsteps can be heard, he stays under this table he’s hidden himself under. He sees that hat first, than a plain white cloak. They seem to have sparkly pieces of see through cloth as well, it feels…comforting for some reason. It reminds him of the spirit realm, which he shouldn’t know what that is but he feels it within every drop of his body. Than he sees it, two piercing yellow-orange eyes. As intense as the sun, bright and warm. Filled with magical energy and vibrancy. Most cookies are intimidated by her eyes, but not spirits. Not him. It feels safe, like a home.

But those eyes are obscured, their vibrancy dampened by the veiled hat. “Hi little guy-“ her voice is different from those cookies as well, she seems so comfortable here with the magic and spirits. “Can I come closer?”

Of course, why wouldn’t he agree? Why wouldn’t he want to bask in this magic, this warmth. Why deny the sun? It’s probably hard to see but he nods.

She takes a few steps closer before dropping to her knees and crawling closer, till she can meet his eyes. “Hey buddy… quite striking eyes you got their huh?” Such an odd statement to say, but weirdly comforting. She talking to him like he wasn’t this scary monster, but as a living being.

She taps her gloved fingers across the ground, beckoning him forward and out. “Cmon out bud, I won’t hurt you- I’ll even get you out of here. How does that sound?” Why- why was she being so nice? So at ease around him, this blob of unsculpted ink?

“W-why..?” His new formed voice can’t help but ask, “a-aren’t you afraid of me? dis-gusted?”

She chucks slightly, “oh silly silly, why would I be afraid of you? Your clearly more afraid of me.” She continued to try and beckon him out.

She for some reason complies, his small mass of black ink with only bright yellow-orange eyes giving him any sort of definition. “Oh wow! Aren’t you marvelous!” She says with wonder. He must’ve given her a weird look as she begins to explain “why wouldn’t I be amazed, from what I can tell- you can be anything!”

“…but still… I’m still a spirit- a monster…” her kindness was almost overwhelming.

“No, not a monster- I would say your quite lovable. Quite lovable indeed-“ she continues to ramble on as she gently lets his head, but he’s not listening- loavable? He was lovable in her eyes…? H-he wanted to chase this, this feeling… he wonders if she would let him stay by her side…. He hopes she would…

But yeah, that’s piece of his backstory! I hope you enjoy, tell me what you think or if you have any questions. Bye!

AUAHGABSUDGHU*sobs* I LOVE HIM !! this might be because of cat bias, but i love him! he looks like a funky little bastard man and honestly he's so right for that

and now a question, is charcoal loaf essentially the polycule's son/hj

Okay now a real question, since he's a shapeshift then how many forms can he take?