#i just wanted to draw Frank per usual

[raptureshots]

pretend i said something REALLY funny here okay <3

[mags-writes]

Sunlight || Part IV

Summary: frank gives you a call

Series Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical swearing, first time writing x reader, no use of y/n, no beta readers we die like ray nadeem

Pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

Authors Note: lotta violence in this one ladies

PROLOGUE/MASTERLIST || PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V

Frank knew your number by heart. Call him old-fashioned but he couldn't shake the habit of learning numbers by heart instead of just saving them to his contacts and forgetting about them.

He was trying his hardest to control his breathing as he typed in the numbers on his phone's keypad. Trying to stop the shaking in his hands as he brought it up to his ear. He listened, for what felt like forever as it rang.

Were you taking too long to answer? Or did it just feel like thousands of years passed instead of seconds?

The ringing stopped

"Hey, Frankie."

"Hey." He cleared his throat, his voice scratchy and rough from worry. "Hey, sweetheart. You goin' grocery shoppin' today, right?"

There was a seconds pause.

"Uh, yeah, yeah. I just left the apartment. Why? You want something specific for dinner?"

"I need you to stop." He said, his voice low and he hoped to god that you'd hear how serious he was being. "Don't go back to the apartment. Somethin's happened and it's not safe. You remember that support group I told you about?"

"Uh... The one with Curtis, right? Your friend from the military?"

"Yeah, yeah that one. Go there. Right now. You hear me? No stops." He ordered, and if that didn't work he was more than happy to resort to begging.

"I'm going to pick something up on the way."

"No. Listen to me, doll, you come straight here."

"You listen to me. I know how serious the situation is, okay? I'm going to make one stop and then I'll head over. It's on the way and I'll be twenty minutes tops. I'm not arguing with you, baby, twenty minutes. I'll be there."

Before he could reply the dial tone rang out. Shocked, he pulled the phone back to check that, yeah, you had absolutely just hung up on him.

"Uh," Laughed Amy, drawing his attention from his phone to the girl. "You didn't say she was your girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend." He defended, walking back over to the large group.

"Yet." Commented Dinah, raising her eyebrows.

"Well," Matt spoke up with a hint of a smirk. "She just called him 'baby' so, the finish line's in sight."

40 MINUTES EARLIER

What Matt had said to you before he left put you on edge and you were lucky for it. In the months that you had been doing his grocery runs, you'd felt completely at ease out in public. Well, as at ease one could feel in Hell's Kitchen that is.

If he didn't have that talk with you then you wouldn't have been checking your surroundings like you were used to before coming to this dimension. You wouldn't have noticed someone following you.

You decide to take this guy on a journey. Walking to the poorer parts of the city that don't have security cameras on or in the old buildings and walking into one that, upon prior research, you knew had hardly anyone in there. The second you were in the lobby you ran for the old elevator, hoping and praying to a god you no longer believed in that you'd get in before your tail caught up to you. That you would make it up to whatever floor you decide to click on to lose him.

Luck was not on your side.

He walked in just as the doors opened for you and you both stepped into the elevator.

You clicked the button for the third floor.

He did nothing.

You both sat in silence for a second or two when he turned to face you. Adrenaline shot straight through you at the dead look in his eyes. And as per usual, when faced with these situations, you couldn't help but open your mouth to let the nerves out.

"Are we about to fuck?" You asked, throwing him completely off guard, tilting his head with a frown and staring at you for another second. "No? I'm the only one getting those vibes?"

When he pulled his arm back, taking his jacket with him you got a glimpse of the gun at his waist that he was reaching for. Without hesitation and before he could get a hold of it, you stepped back and put all your driving force into a practiced front kick to his stomach. He doubled over, groaning in pain and surprise as you straightened back up again. You didn't give him time to recover, bringing your fists up into a boxing stance and quickly striking out at his eye socket in a hit that would have made Jack Murdock whoop with pride. When his head went flying back with the force of your hit you struck out again at his exposed neck making him let out a gargled groan.

The door dinged to signal it was about to open and you gave one more swift kick to his ribs before bolting out the doors. Running as fast as you could down the hall and turning the corner. You went into a squat, fumbling for the bag at your side to try and grab a hold of your phone that always sunk to the bottom when you needed it most. You didn't hear your tail walk down the hall, your blood pumping in your ears and adrenaline making your hands shake. Or was it the blossoming bruises on your knuckles making them shake?

Right as you felt your phone, your head was yanked to the side by your hair making you yell out in pain. He brought you up to stand intending to hold his gun to your head but instead, you used a move that you learned from those women's self-defense classes you and other Karen had attended last year. Taking hold of the gun, moving it to the side so he couldn't hit you, hand underneath his wrist to take advantage of the joint, and then apply pressure, yanking the gun from his grasp within a second of him pulling it on you. You used the butt of it to hit him across the face before throwing it out the window, going back to your boxing stance Jack Murdock taught you back when you were six.

This time you let him recover. If this mother fucker was going to try and kill you then you'd let him have a fair fight. Let him get a taste of you.

He struck out, hitting you square in the front teeth and you felt your lip split from a ring he was wearing. You barely flinched. Letting the adrenaline really take over and shake off the hit. You hit him this time, a few times and quicker than lightning, quicker than him. You got in a few kicks, one of which he caught, bringing his elbow down onto your thigh making you grunt out in pain. Bringing you in close was a mistake though, now you had free reign on his face and you didn't stop until he let you go and pushed you away. If someone were to walk in on this fight right at this moment then they'd say the stumbling man bleeding from his face was losing, not the woman perked up and light on her feet.

He hit again and you easily blocked, taking on the hit and striking his ribs again before backing off. He wasn't ready for a fight today, and you could tell by how tired he was already. When you went to hit again, getting in close he got there first. Hitting your cheekbone felt like it sent a shockwave through your head. It left a ringing noise going through your head and you backed off, letting him have that. You felt blood drip down your face and you suddenly got angry. You decided the fight was over now. Whether he liked it or not.

You checked your surroundings, seeing that you had him backed up to the window you threw his gun from. You went to make it seem like you were pulling your arm back for an exaggerated punch that Jack Murdock told you to never do and when he hunched over to dodge it you instead shifted your weight and did another powerful front kick to his exposed chest. He teetered back, hitting the window, and went straight through the thin, non-regulated planed glass.

You took a breath. Letting your arms hang loose.

Then you remembered.

You were on the third floor.

And you just kicked a man out the window.

You scrambled for the elevator, running again as fast as you could down the hall and hitting the button so hard you were surprised it didn't break. When you made it outside, you rounded the corner to a shadowed alleyway, checking all angles for a lone security camera that might be around and finding nothing. You came to a stop in front of the heaped pile of man that was previously intent on killing you a few minutes prior. Realising he must've landed right on his head.

You're brought out of your staring when your phone rings.

"Hey, Frankie." You're still lightly panting from the adrenaline, the fight, and the running and you hope to god he can't hear it.

"Hey," He clears his throat. "Hey, sweetheart. You goin' grocery shoppin' today, right?"

There was a seconds pause.

Right.

Yeah.

That's what you were doing today.

"Uh, yeah, yeah. I just left the apartment." You lied, looking around in case someone walked by. "Why? You want something specific for dinner?"

"I need you to stop." You frown, going back to looking at the man and panicking that Frank somehow knew this had happened. "Don't go back to the apartment. Somethin's happened and it's not safe. You remember that support group I told you about?"

"Uh..." Oh, thank god. You take a second to get your thoughts together. "The one with Curtis, right? Your friend from the military?"

"Yeah, yeah that one. Go there. Right now. You hear me? No stops."

"I'm going to pick something up on the way." You decide out loud, completely disregarding what he just said.

"No. Listen to me, doll, you come straight here."

"You listen to me." You emphasised, not taking his overprotective bullshit. "I know how serious the situation is, okay? I'm going to make one stop and then I'll head over. It's on the way and I'll be twenty minutes tops. I'm not arguing with you, baby, twenty minutes. I'll be there."

Then you hung up on him.

Nope. Not taking his overprotective bullshit. Not even a little bit.

[universitypenguin]

Chapter 15

Summary: Lloyd takes things too far in his threat against Deputy Russell and has to change tactics mid-stream. Princess and Zach decide to push back against Detective Roth's allegations.

Word Count: 3,936

Masterlist

Warnings: Mention of drug trafficking, murder, legal proceedings, spy/intelligence agencies, corruption, stalking, violence, threatening, and discussion of criminal behavior. Minor foul language. Only appropriate for 18+ readers. No minors. 

The Princess & the Lawyer Chapter 15

Lloyd stood at the stove stirring a noxious mixture of gasoline and aluminum hydroxide. Pungent fumes hung thick in the air, forcing him to cover his mouth and nose with a bandanna. 

The screen door slammed, and familiar footsteps echoed through the hall. 

“Ugh! What is that stench? Did a gas line rupture?”

Elliot’s voice rang through the house before he came around the corner into the kitchen. 

His bright-eyed appearance was in sharp contrast with Lloyd’s sleep-deprived state. Knowing his cousin had been left in charge of their captive all night, Lloyd couldn’t help but draw the obvious conclusion. Elliot’s excessive cheerfulness was derived from a more potent source than caffeine - he was smoking ice again. 

“I followed your instructions and made a copy of Carl’s phone,” Elliot said, buzzing with excitement. “Guess what? Sheriff Holbrook’s texts are still on there, tucked away in some encrypted app. We could use it as leverage!” 

Lloyd shook his head. “No. We can’t deviate from the plan. Did Russell agree to a meeting time?”

“Eleven o'clock at High Meadows.”  

“Not a bad choice. Lots of entrances and exits,” Lloyd said. “I’m almost finished here. There’s water cooler jugs filled with this stuff piled up on the back deck. Bring your truck around and start loading them for me, will you?” 

“Sure thing, man.” 

Elliot bounded down the hall and Lloyd rubbed his tired eyes. He desperately needed some sleep unless he planned on asking Elliot for a bump of meth to keep him going. Lloyd shut off the stove, checked the final batch of chemicals, and rinsed his spoon in the sink. He stuck his head outside to inform Elliot he was going to bed and headed up the stairs. 

Just as he lay down, his phone rang. 

“Hello?” 

“Mr. Hansen? This is Judy Lange from the HOA. I wanted to let you know that the association swimming pool has been fixed and approved for reopening on Monday. Should I leave your keys in the mailbox for your house sitter, or wait until you’re back?” 

Mrs. Lange didn’t actually hold an official position with the Homeowners Association. Her husband had campaigned for the post out of pure spite. His single-minded crusade against Della Collins’ window box planters and their “busy-looking” Ultra Star Petunias earned him a landslide victory in the election. He’d passed a statute banning all multicolored blossoms from public spaces and after his triumph, lost interest in executing the duties of his office. 

Despite her eccentric husband, Lloyd found Mrs. Lange to be a reasonable person. Her annoying habit of speaking at a million words per minute was made up for by impeccable manners and a sharp sense of humor. Even Mrs. Collins, who was still torqued at Mr. Lange a year later, couldn’t resist her charms. 

After his brain finally managed to process her rapid fire words, Lloyd grunted. 

“The mailbox is fine. I’ll text my friend and let her know to pick them up.” 

“Excellent. I apologize for calling you at such a time, Lloyd.” 

Mrs. Lange’s voice carried a hint of horror, as if she’d just realized she had contacted someone in the midst of a family tragedy. Lloyd didn’t view the situation as such, but he recognized the apologetic shift in her tone as she launched into a long winded explanation. 

“With everything going on, I am sure now is a terrible time for you… I just didn’t want to forget. You’re the most frequent patron of our athletic facilities. Well, usually the only patron to be frank. Mrs. Collins isn’t getting around like she used to after her knee surgery. Anyways, I’ll personally take those keys to your friend so they’re ready when you get back. And if there’s anything I can do for you, don’t hesitate to reach out.” 

She really meant it, Lloyd thought, his lips twisting into a bitter smile. If only she knew what the man who he was supposed to be grieving had done to him. 

“Thanks, Judy. I appreciate it.” 

“Of course, darling. I’ll see you around.” 

Already half asleep, Lloyd hung up the phone. His last thought was that he needed to call you. Hearing from Judy reminded him of home, and of you. It had been days since your last talk and that was far too long. Before the meeting with Russell, Lloyd promised himself he’d make time for a conversation. 

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

You stalked back and forth in front of Zach’s desk, breathing hard, your fists clenched in frustration. 

“I can’t believe his nerve! Can you believe this? Can you?!” 

“Uh-huh.” 

Zach grunted and continued tapping on his keyboard.

“He has the audacity to accuse us of leaking information to the media, without a shred of evidence? It’s unprofessional!”

Zach nodded, seemingly absorbed in his work. 

“I spent so much time building them a database and now no one can use it. The whole process was exhausting and tedious and… are you even listening to me?” 

“Yes. Roth is an infuriating bastard. I knew it from the start, and you thought he was cute.”

“I did not!”

“Did so,” Zach said. 

“Did not.”

“Let’s not lose sight of our most important objective here.”

“Yes, let’s not. What is that objective, again?” you asked. 

“Getting back in Roth’s good graces and thereby, restoring our access to information and resources.”

“I’m sorry, were we just in the same room? About twenty minutes ago, when Roth kicked us to the curb and Bishop had a melt down?”

“We’re not going to let our hard work go to waste. There’s more than one key for every lock, you know?”

“Uh… that’s not how locks work.”

“It is when you know how to pick locks,” Zach quipped. 

“I haven’t even told you about my conversation with Mr. Liu!” 

He resumed typing, his attention focused on the monitor. “No sister?”

“Well, that’s a very anticlimactic way of putting it, but yes. He’s certain that Julia didn’t have a sister.” 

“That’s the conclusion I ended up at too.”

“Should we tell Roth?”

“I’d rather clear our names first,” Zach said.

“How?”

“Look at this.”

Zach pivoted his monitor to show you the screen. 

You stared at a map of Arlington with a route highlighted in purple. Squinting, you noted the web address of a popular running app called PacePal. The account’s username was generic and the profile picture was an image of a man's athletic shoes. 

“What am I looking at?” 

Zach smirked. “This PacePal profile belongs to Peter Shaw. The account photo is of the same running shoes he’s wearing in the Twitter he shared last year of himself finishing the Miami Marathon.” 

“Okay, not to make myself look like an idiot, but who is Peter Shaw?”

“A very tenacious investigative reporter with Rolling Stone Magazine. He’s also the only person who knows the real identity of the leaker, and thanks to his lax attitude toward social media security, we know where Mr. Shaw will be at two o’clock this afternoon.” 

“So, if I’m hearing you correctly, we’re going to give Detective Roth a taste of his own medicine?” 

“I intend to serve him a fresh plate of crow as soon as humanly possible,” Zach said. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Ruthless much?” 

“I didn’t pull in that jackass Lattimer without a damn good reason. We’re onto something with Julia’s supposed sister and if we don’t keep pushing the trail will go cold. What do you say, Princess? Shall we go put Shaw on notice?” 

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

Lloyd called you when he woke, but reached your voicemail instead of you. He sent a text instead and dove into the shower to scrub off the lingering stench of gasoline that clung to his skin. 

None of the clothes he’d packed suited the character he wanted to portray tonight, so he rummaged through Joe’s closet in search of better options. In the back, he discovered a garment bag containing the winning ensemble: a navy suit with wide lapels, bootcut trousers, and a matching waistcoat. It screamed 1970’s gaudy at the top of its lungs. 

To complete the look, Lloyd installed the hair extensions he’d sent Elliot to acquire from a beauty supply store two towns over. Cutting the remaining extensions into three-inch pieces, he applied them carefully across his jaw, smirking as he remembered April's suggestion that he should grow a beard. The overall effect was a cross between Jerry Garcia and Medusa on a bad hair day. 

For accessories, Lloyd raided Joe’s dresser. He added rings, a gold chain necklace, and a pair of lightly tinted orange sunglasses. The oversized frames elevated the look from vintage inspired to unmistakably costume like - a perfect fit for the character he was putting on. He slapped on a strongly scented aftershave he found in Joe’s medicine cabinet and instantly regretted it when his eyes watered from the fumes. 

Resisting the urge to wash it off, he turned his attention to more practical matters. Joe’s gun cabinet yielded a wide assortment of armaments. He owned weapons from every firearms manufacturer on the market in the past fifty years. Lloyd wasn’t keen to give a hopped up meth addict a gun, but circumstances demanded it. He picked up a Winchester Renegade and checked the ammunition.

“Hey, Elliot! How’s your aim these days?” 

Elliot turned around from his task of cleaning up the kitchen and did a double take of Lloyd’s outfit. 

“Better than most people’s. What are you wearing, dude? Are we going to make a drug deal or audition for Saturday Night Fever?” 

Lloyd snorted at the question and held out the Winchester Renegade. 

“I need you to watch my back while I’m meeting with Russell. Just in case things don’t go according to plan.” 

“Understood. I’m the second shooter on the grassy knoll,” Elliot said. 

They took back roads to the meeting spot. By the time they reached their destination, Elliot’s old truck was covered in mud from the unpaved roads that cut through the vast Idaho landscape. They were deep in the countryside, hidden from prying eyes of passersby on the highway by miles of barren hills. 

High Meadows had once been a thriving venue for team roping and barrel racing events. Now, the clay earth he remembered as being meticulously groomed played host to an invasion of dandelions and scotch thistle. The red aluminum roof over the pavilion had faded to a dull rust color and the cedar panel fencing that encircled the space was bent with age and broken in several places. 

He helped Elliot unload the water cooler jugs filled with the gelled fuel that he’d spent the morning cooking. Lloyd marked out a circle, about twenty feet in diameter, in the middle of the arena and cut a small trench into the ground. With Elliot’s help he poured the viscous mixture into the trough and raked the displaced dirt back into place. 

They hid their equipment in the bed of Elliot’s truck and moved the vehicle into a ravine near the main access road to High Meadows. 

Lloyd turned to his cousin. “Go take up position on that hill over there.”

He pointed to a spot beyond the dilapidated grandstands. “It has the best vantage point. Also, there’s a thermal scope in your backpack in case the night vision doesn’t cut it.” 

Elliot slung his backpack over his shoulder and disappeared into the hills. Lloyd took his position in the arena as the sun settled behind the horizon. He lay down on one of the risers in the grandstands, propped his feet up, and dozed until the sun went down. Suddenly, the crackle of the Bluetooth in his ear brought Lloyd back to the present as Elliot’s voice broke him from semi-unconscious. 

“Russell is pulling in,” Elliot said. 

“I see the headlights,” Lloyd confirmed.

The beams of Russell’s headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the arena. Lloyd leaned casually against a pillar on the far side. The position gave him plenty of time to observe Russell as he approached. The deputy was clearly spooked - he’d worn a bulletproof vest over his khaki uniform. 

“Nice of you to finally show up,” Lloyd called out in greeting. 

Russell stepped into the arena, his eyes scanning the space, trying to assess the situation.

“Who are you?” 

“Didn’t Carl tell you? We’re the Canadians,” Lloyd said, flashing a mischievous grin.

Russell’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“Now, let’s get down to business!” Lloyd clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Don’t look so tense, Luke. I’m here to make you rich, and myself even richer. You see, I came here to shake down a former associate, but the trouble is this jackass died before I could get to him. So, I found a locally connected businessman and squeezed until he spilled your name.” 

The deputy’s nostrils flared, a warning sign Lloyd waved off dismissively. 

“Don’t worry about it. I took care of him.” 

“What do you mean you ‘took care of him’?” Russell demanded. 

“I took him for a swim in Redfish Lake, the kind you don’t come back from,” Lloyd said, punctuating that statement with a wink. 

Russell’s shock was palpable. Lloyd gave him a beat to recover, but when he just got a blank stare in response, he shifted tactics and threw his arms out in exaggerated frustration. 

“Oh, come on! Be fucking for real, bro. Do you have two brain cells left rattling around in that ugly mug, pig? I got rid of your dealer because, number one, he’s a snitch and I don’t fuck with snitches. Number two, getting rid of Carl gives you the opportunity to set up a more reliable distribution system. Isn’t that nice? An open playing field with no territorial disputes from the locals? You can thank me now, or later.” 

Russell hesitated. Lloyd didn’t let the silence linger. 

“Okay, then. You’ll thank me later. Look, about-” 

“You really killed Carl?”

Lloyd sighed. “Would I lie to you? Me? I have a reputation to uphold, Deputy.” 

“You’re a fucking psychopath, that’s what you are,” Russell said, edging backwards.

“Hey! We’re not done talking business!” Lloyd yelled after the man as he turned away.

“Yes we are. Go to hell!” 

“Don’t walk away from me, pig! This isn’t the kind of conversation you can just walk away from!”

Lloyd’s voice echoed through the pavilion, ringing with anger.

Russell glanced over his shoulder.

“Oh, Luke… My number one rule is simple: I don’t fuck with snitches. Rule number two? Dirty cops who know your face are bad business. You see, they always end up being snitches. It’s like different flavors of the same ice cream. Triple chocolate fudge or brownie delight, who can tell ‘em apart?” 

As Russell’s hand went for his gun, Lloyd flipped open his lighter and tossed it on the ground. The carefully prepared mixture of gasoline ignited instantly, shooting up and forming a wall of fire that raced around to encircle them. 

Taken by surprise, Deputy Russell instinctively moved away from the searing heat of the flames an action that inadvertently drew him closer to Lloyd. 

“Isn’t this nice? I find it rather cozy, like stepping into a bubble of security.”

Lloyd chuckled, his smile twisted with madness.

“This is how you conduct business?” Russell hissed, eyes glinting with shocked desperation as the flames continued to roar around them. 

“I find it refocuses the attention when a deal starts getting off track.” 

“What the hell do you want?!” 

“I’ve made myself very clear, Russell. You need to work on your attention span. Here’s the deal: we become business partners… or you become a victim of what I like to call ‘spontaneous human combustion.’” 

“Spontaneous,” the deputy muttered, looking at the flames.

“I never really plan on cremating anyone,” Lloyd said, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world to discuss incinerating your business associates. “Every time I’ve actually gone through with this, the whole thing happens so fast, it really does look spontaneous. Now, Deputy… What do you say? Ready to make a deal?” 

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

You sat beside Zach on a park bench, trying to make the most of the slight shade of a tree that offered a tiny bit of respite from the blistering August heat. The sound of approaching footfalls was a major relief. Five more minutes out here and you would have melted. You glanced up to see Peter Shaw, a man of average height with close cropped dark hair, nearing your bench. 

Zach stood up and moved to the center of the path, blocking access to the parking lot. 

“Peter Shaw. I’m Zach Hightower and this is Y/N. I assume you know who I am?”

The journalist stopped a few feet away from Zach. He was dripping with sweat, but still had the energy to offer a cocky smirk. He glanced in your direction and arched an eyebrow. 

“The investigative duo. Where’s Hansen? Isn’t he usually your partner?” 

“I read your article this morning. It was very interesting,” Zach said. 

“Thanks. What part did you enjoy the most?” 

“I thought it was very well researched. You even knew where the recent evidence was being stored. That was a very… interesting… detail to include in the article.” 

Peter shrugged. “I take pride in my work.” 

“The other little thing that jumped out and grabbed me was about the evidence collected in the Nguyen case twenty years ago. Your source criticized the chain of custody related to Shun Nguyen’s cell phone. That was extremely specific.” 

Shaw’s grin turned from smug to sly. “I always make sure my sources have a keen eye for detail. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

“One more thing. The criticism you leveled at the State Police for handling the digital evidence from that cell phone? Well, it went over my head, but I’ve got a guy who’s a genius with that kind of thing. When I showed him the article he said you’d need to consult with an expert in digital forensics to break down those kinds of technical concepts as clearly as you did.”

“Actually, I’m just that good,” Peter said, crossing his arms. 

“You have a degree in English and absolutely no background in tech. You’re not that good… but I believe your source is. The level of insight they gave you left their fingerprints all over that article, Shaw. Your man’s days are numbered. If you were as good as you think you are, his head wouldn’t be heading for the chopping block.” 

The journalist snorted. “Do you run, Mr. Hightower?”

“Only when someone’s shooting at me. Why?”

“Just wondering if you get any other forms of exercise, besides jumping to conclusions.” 

“It’s more of a step-by-step chain of logic that links together quite nicely. You really are a good writer, Shaw - very organized. That made it much easier to fill in the blanks. Does the name Leo McKenzie ring a bell?”

The blood drained from Shaw’s face, turning his lips white. Zach grinned.

“Good talking to you, Pete. Thanks for your time! Come on, Princess, let’s go.” 

“You’re way off base, Hightower,” he called after you.

Zach gave him a cheerful wave. “Hey, Pete, since you’ve undoubtedly got my number, why don’t you give me a call next time you need a source? I can teach you how to cover your tracks so you don’t keep burning through informants.” 

Then he lengthened his stride, forcing you into a jog as you tried to keep up. Once you were in the privacy of his vehicle, you gaped at him. 

“Are you crazy? Did you just invite that sleazebag to call you?”

“Sure. He’s made more progress on this case than anyone else. We can’t ignore that.” 

“How did you know who his source was? Did you guess?”

“Deduction isn’t guessing and that look on his face was all the confirmation I needed.” 

“We should tell Detective Roth.”

“No. Let him figure it out on his own. He won’t believe anything we tell him at the moment.” 

“But the security of the investigation is at stake!” 

“Not for long. Shaw will contact his source and alert them that we’re onto them. I want to give Detective Roth the chance to redeem himself. Also, if he can’t find a mole in his own department, I’m not sure I want to work with him.”

“Right. Hey, where are we going?” 

Zach turned onto an unfamiliar exit, one that headed away from his office.

“I’ve got to make another stop. Don’t worry, it won’t take long.” 

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

Elliot drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "You really freaked him out."

"Mmmhh."

"He's going to send those drugs up in flames."

The insight was spot on. Deputy Russell’s wavering commitment to the sale was becoming more evident as dawn broke. He had raced back to the security of the Sheriff’s Offices after meeting with “the Canadians” and spent the rest of the night holed up there. Through the front window, Lloyd watched his shadow move behind the blinds. 

The silhouette moved from left to right, and then crossed back again, from right to left. Russell was already a paranoid bastard and introducing a real threat to his life may have been a step too far. His restless actions raised a red flag in Lloyd’s assessment of the situation. Watching him through binoculars from their high vantage point in the parking lot of the White Rivers campsite, Lloyd decided it was time to ease the pressure and give Russell an escape hatch. 

He was too spooked to hand the drugs over directly to the Canadians. After the ring of fire incident Russell was probably more likely to shoot Lloyd if he ever saw him again instead of cooperating with him. 

“We’re going to plan B,” Lloyd said. “Give me a burner phone.” 

He held out a hand and Elliot pressed a device into his palm. Lloyd dialed and watched through the binoculars as the blinds of the Sheriff’s office raised. He couldn’t see anyone, but he knew Russell was somewhere inside. 

The call connected. 

“Hello? Who is this?” 

Lloyd spoke hoarsely. “Hello. Deputy Luke Russell?” 

“This is he.” Russell sounded suspicious. 

"This is Agent Ambrosio of the ATF. Do you have a moment to speak with me? Somewhere private would be best if possible."

"Yeah, yeah. I can do that," Russell said.

There was feedback as he moved, the the sound of a door closing. He must have gone to his office. 

“Okay. I can talk now.” 

"Russell, I'm calling about your boss, Sheriff Holbrook. Are you aware of the case against him?"

"Uh… you mean that thing from last year?"

"Eighteen months ago," Lloyd clarified. "The federal investigation into Holbrook's involvement with the drug trade has continued, which is why I'm reaching out. We need your cooperation."

"What can I do to help you, agent?” 

"We have everything that we need to make an arrest. This is a courtesy call, Deputy. We're moving on him tomorrow morning. Do you understand?"

"Oh… Wow… Okay, is there anything I can do?" Russell asked.

"We're still organizing things. Holbrook is constantly armed, and we're aware of how high-risk this operation will be. I’d be more comfortable with the situation I’m sending my men into if we had your cooperation.” 

“Absolutely. Whatever you need, sir.” 

Lloyd’s mouth curved into a smile. Pushing too hard may have been the right play after all. His prey had just swallowed the bait without noticing the hook that pierced his lip along with it. 

Game. Set. Match. 

All that was left to do was reel in his catch. 

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

Next - Part XVI

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

Masterlist

Taglist:

@denisemarieangelina

@before-we-get-started

@buckysteveloki-me

@patzammit

@badassbaker

@meetmeatyourworst

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

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@dear-fifi

[darlingshane]

UNBOUNDED | PART 5

Frank Castle x F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2,7k

Summary: Rope play with Frank. That's it.

Content/Warnings: explicit, bdsm, dom!frank, rope play, bj's, ball sucking, orgasm control, orgasm denial.

A/N: For reference, Frank ties reader in a rope dress if you wanna search it up beforehand. You can also find the source I used as inspiration in the ao3 chapter.

– Links: Read Below or at AO3. You can also check out the series masterpost on tumblr.

Part 5: Shibari

As promised, Frank takes you on a little gateway a week after your last punishment. He wakes you up way earlier than you’d want to with bags already packed and loaded in his truck, and the smell of toast of coffee that he brings you to bed on a tray.

He’s excited to show you the beautiful place he’s picked for your stance in the mountains – a small cabin close to town surrounded by a stunning snowy scenery on a cold winter day. It’s exactly what you expected of Frank. He knows you too well and loves you even more that he plans the whole thing by himself just to surprise you.

After your arrival, you take it slow, go on a stroll to enjoy the sights, get some groceries in town, and visit the local café and other stores in the vicinity. Before it starts snowing again, you get back to the cabin and make the best out of your well-deserved mini vacation with him.

At nighttime, the unfamiliar space, smell, and temperature of the cabin make you a little nervous, and excited to see what Frank has in storage for you. Admittedly, you've never felt as safe as you do when you're in Frank's playroom, so trying this in someone else's space intimidates you a little.

You've already kicked it up a notch by wearing your master's leather collar under a turtle-neck sweater since you left the apartment this morning. Your relationship is solid enough to taste new boundaries and so far, while it's not something you'd like to incorporate in your daily routine; from time to time it'd be nice to wear it longer and hand him all the control of your actions. Frank's not extremely demanding, however. He seeks for your wellness above all, and having him tell you where to sit, what to eat, giving you permission for mundane tasks is actually just as liberating as when you're doing your usual rough play. You're a master's little pleaser, he's gathered. You thrive in praise and every time you follow his words, he's there to reward you with a kiss, a good girl, or a treat.

While Frank prepares the bedroom for a good playing session, you take a relaxing hot bath, per his command.

When the room is ready, your master comes to find you, and after ushering you out of the tub, he helps you dry your body before tying a black, satin blindfold around your eyes.

“Do you trust me, sweetheart?” he hushes in your ear in that swoon-worthy, deep tone that makes your skin shiver.

“Always, Sir.”

“Hmm.”

That's his pleased response you've come to adore. He takes your hand and steers you towards the bedroom. After a few steps, the texture of the floor changes from wood to something plush and cozy under your bare feet. He stops when you hit the middle of the fabric and your body quickly heats up in anticipation, and at the warmth radiating from the fireplace.

Only Frank can see how gorgeous you look right now, with just the glow of the flames dancing across the surface of your skin, drawing every curve of your figure.

His palms hover the plane of your body for a moment without so much as a touch, letting you guess where he’s going to put them first. After a few seconds, they land carefully on your shoulders. His breath touches the back of your neck, as he places a tender kiss on that spot.

Preparing you for the activity he’s chosen, he spends a good amount of time massaging your neck, shoulders, and arms in all their length down to your palms. Your skin buzzes in delight with his hands thoroughly kneading your back afterward.

When he’s done, he grabs a coil of rope from the chair and proceeds to constrict your body with it.

He takes his time, gingerly binding your torso with a rope dress — you can tell what he's picked from his maneuvering around you. Sir’s rough but careful fingers caress your prickled skin as he ties the folded rope in a series of knots in a line down the middle of your torso. You shudder when a happy knot is placed over your clit, and you try not to move much to not get overexcited. He pulls the tail between your legs and up your back, from under your ass, to link it with the first loop he left hanging between your shoulders blades.

Next, he circles your body, back to the front, and extends your arms up, so he can bring the tails from the back under your armpits. From above your breasts and down to your waist, he starts lacing the rope with great dexterity, creating a diamond pattern along your chest.

It's arduous work, but it seems like a piece of cake to your master. And it's quite rewarding for both.

You’re partial to rope. However, you rarely practice rope play cause a couple of times you’ve felt a little overwhelmed when too much time is spent bound like this. Last time you did, you cried yellow in the middle, but you were restricted in a more intricate way from head to toe; that’s why you figure he went from the rope dress this time.

Almost finished, he frames your mound in one last diamond and curls the tails around your waist to secure them at your back, keenly tying and looping the remains around the line that goes up your spine.

As a final touch, he folds your arms comfortably at the small of your back and uses another coil of rope to bind them to the harness, rendering you completely useless, except for your legs.

“How does it feel, sweetheart? You good?” he squeezes your hands.

“I’m good, Sir. Thank you for being so careful.”

“Anything for my good girl,” relying on touch only, you then feel his fingers moving between your legs, tapping on the knot on your clit, “How about this, does this feel right?”

“It feels amazing, Sir.”

“Hmm,” he presses on it for a few seconds, earning a good sigh out of your lips. “We're gonna get you to your knees now, alright?”

You nod and trust his hands as he lowers you to the floor.

Out of sight, as you get comfortable on your knees, he takes off his shirt and walks around, observing the beautiful form of your surrendering position. Like you’ve already guessed, he opts for leaving your legs free this time to avoid that over exhaustion of last time.

He stops in front of you and cups his bulge, watching you as you take a deep breath and get used to the rope. He admires how much you’ve progressed, and how much trust you’ve put in him. Like now, he could do anything with you right now, and you’d let him without question. That takes a lot of time to build, but with you, it came fairly easy.

After a moment, he picks up the flogger he laid early on the bed and does another spin around you, this time gently letting you feel the leather tresses on different parts of your skin without striking. Surveying your every reaction, he casually places its weight on each of your shoulders, brushes the back of your neck with its tails, tickles the soles of your feet, and then teases your hard nipples, bringing that dizzying arousal that comes from handling him that power.

You stay centered, for the most part, minding your Sir’s desires as he changes your position. He coaxes you to lean forwards until your head and shoulders are propped on the end of the mattress.

“Lift your ass as much as you can,” he orders, patting your rear as you push your ass upwards, “good girl.”

You swallow as he runs the leather tails softly on your rear, cueing you before swinging the flogger. He starts fairly gentle and slow, warming up your cheeks, and the back of your thighs.

When the strikes start coming slightly harder and quicker, your hips jerk and that sweet knot, sitting on the right place, stimulates your clit as a result.

He notices how your body waves, aching for more friction against that knot.

“You’re enjoying that, huh?”

Thud.

“Ahh, yes, Sir.”

Thud.

“What do we say?”

Thud.

“Thank you, Sir.”

Thud.

“Attagirl,” rumbles deep in his throat, followed by a grunt, and a harder thud, “what’s your color?”

“Green, Sir.”

Pausing, he inhales, trying to tame his own arousal, “we’re going to count backwards from ten, and move on. Tell me when you’re ready.”

You take a deep breath, “ready, Sir.”

Much in sync with the other, he swings evenly as you to utter each number after each strike.

The pain is evenhandedly dull with the flogger, it resembles more of a deep massage than anything else. It's the rope around your body that inflicts more damage than the leather falls.

Your body strains against your constraints as you get down to the last three, and it relaxes after the final hit.

Your slickness extends around your binds, reaching your thighs when he's done.

A long, heavy exhalation comes out of your mouth as one of his caring palms touches your ass, assessing the warmth of your skin.

“You took it so fucking good, sweetheart.”

“You gave it so fucking good, Sir,” you murmur.

He smiles to himself and lets you recover for several beats before straightening your torso and checking that your blindfold is still in place.

“Are you hungry, sweetheart?” Sir reaches to your mouth, tilts your chin up with his tucked index finger as his thumb rubs back and forth on your lower lip.

“Hmm, yes, Sir.”

His thumb then slips between your lips, and touches your tongue as you wrap your mouth around it.

“You want something bigger to fill that insatiable mouth?”

“Uh-hum,” you eagerly mumble around his finger, “I’d love that, Sir.”

Scoffing, he plays with your tongue a little more before pulling his thumb out.

If you could see his face, you'd capture the ignition in his eyes, and the plush of his lips turning a few shades of pink deeper at the prospect of what comes next, — him feeding you his cock.

“Stick out your tongue, kitten,” he purrs, undoing his zipper, and releasing his aching erection as you follow his order.

He holds his thick length in one hand, and places his other palm on the side of your head, as he first tentatively taps, and slides the breadth of its head on the plane of your tongue a few times before shoving half his dick in the depth of your mouth.

“Good girl,” he growls, “go on.”

With nothing but your mouth to please your master's stately hard-on, you swirl your tongue, drawing the familiar flare at the top, teasing its slit, and tasting the first drops of his precum. Then, you bob your head back and forth, taking him further down until the tip of his cock touches the back of your throat.

“Attagirl. Keep going.”

Wrapping your lips around his shaft, you worship his cock with passion, earning praises and delightful groans out of your master's mouth.

Extremely aroused, your hips undulate lightly, searching for the delicious pressure of the rope on each side of your lips, and the knot that shifts with your movements over your swollen clit.

Suddenly, Frank stops you from finishing him and takes his cock out of your mouth, allowing you to catch your breath.

You pout, and he smirks, holding his length, stepping an inch closer to your face and propping his balls over your lips, so you can feel them.

“Suck’em,” he orders gravely.

Your tongue swipes across your lips as you follow your Sir’s wishes. You take one blindly into your mouth, capturing the already taut skin of his scrotum, and cover it in your saliva before taking the other. He jerks himself, flattering the ways of your doing between clenched teeth and well garnered grunts as you drive him out of his mind with the swirling and desperate sucking of his sack.

When he’s close, he takes them away and shoves his twitching cock back in your mouth. He holds your head still with both hands, as you set your jaw a little slacked, so he can fuck your mouth obscenely hard the rest of the way until he ejaculates in the middle of your tongue with just a handful of thrusts.

Standing still from a moment, he anchors himself to you as his breath catches.

You're nearly in tears when he puts his cock away and crouches in front of you to wipe your mouth, and bathe you with more sweet adulation.

“Who’s my best girl?” he rasps, removing the blindfold off your eyes.

“I am, Sir,” you blink as your vision adjusts to the warm light of the fireplace.

“Damn right you are,” he states huskily, cupping your jaw in his palms, massaging the joints of your mandible, “you did so good. How are you feeling? You wanna keep going?”

“Thank you. I’d like that, Sir… I haven't… yet…”

“I know,” he smiles softly, “I was getting to it. Do you want me to untie you?”

“Just my arms, Sir.”

“Okay,” he sighs, utterly pleased, and proceeds to untie your hands.

He helps up to your feet and places you on the bed on your side. His large form spoons your shape, tucking one of his hands between your legs. His fingers slip under the rope and that well-placed knot, and he gently caresses your over-excited clit that was begging for some attention.

His lips roam your neck, nibbling and kissing, as the pressure of his fingers madly fuel that fiery flame growing in your core.

“Can I come, Sir?”

“Tsk, not yet baby,” cause he likes to make you beg a few times.

As you squirm in his hold, he rubs harder on you as the rope strains in all the right places, marking your skin.

“Please, Sir,” you plead again after a couple of minutes.

“Shh, just a little more. I know how long you can hold, sweetheart,” he grins smugly before sucking a good chunk of your neck between his lips, “be a good girl for me.”

You moan and hold tight for several beats, gripping at his arm that tenses with every move as it rubs fiercely on your clit until you reach a point of no return. It’s either stop or let go. There’s no in between.

“Pleasepleaseplease, Sir,” you desperately pant, overtaken by that torrent of pleasure held only by a shred of will.

Reveling in that power, he makes you wait, — just a little more – before granting you the right to unleash that powerful orgasm that flows freely through every inch of your body, setting every cell ablaze.

Under a heavy breath, you utter your gratitude to your master and relax in the safety of his arms. You love the extra cuddles and kisses, and he loves indulging you for being a good girl. He's always so tender and attentive, it makes your heart swoon. Tonight, he waits until you've completely come down from your high, and your body has turned to jello to remove the rope tying your body. Carefully undoing each knot, he enjoys seeing the temporary marks of pleasure and devotion left on your skin. He cares for them, spreading lotion on your skin and making sure there is no burn or extreme damage to the surface of your body.

Then, you sit comfortably against the headboard and cover your body up to your chest with a blanket afterward, while Frank gathers some food from the kitchen.

“You were so beautiful today, I should have taken a picture,” he says, holding a spoon near your mouth to feed you a piece of cheesecake after settling next to you.

“Thank you, Sir,” you smile timidly, take your bite of food, and express with your mouth full, “you don't have to feed me.”

“I wanna,” he shrugs, taking a piece of cake for himself.

“Next time you could take a picture, you know?”

“Would you want that?”

“In other circumstances I'd say no, but I trust you, Sir. I know it'd be only for you.”

“Maybe I will,” he offers you another bite, followed by a quick kiss to your lips.

[90shaladriel]

Writing Interview Tag Game

Thanks for tagging me @klynnvakarian !

About Me:

When did you start writing?

In my 30s I definitely made an attempt to write a "novel" and did some world building and a few pages of writing and it didn't go anywhere. Then Late 2022 after Rings of Power season 1 just joining the Haladriel fandom I read so much fic that I thought maybe I could do some as well. Got some encouragement from other haladriel writers (crucial for me)

Are there different genres or themes you enjoy reading other than the ones you write?

I love history and science non-fiction. I mostly am writing in the fantasy fan-fiction space, but I do like sci-fi as my first love.

Is there an author you want to emulate, or are compared to often?

I either consciously or unconsciously imagine I am writing in the voice that Frank Herbert used in the Dune series. Maybe mixed with some George RR Martin and a tinge of Tolkien.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

Vast majority of my writing was on an iPad lying in my bed before sleep when no one needs my attention.

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

I usually write a chapter per month so it's just random thoughts or reminders while reading other fics which inspire me to write a snippet here or there when I have the energy.

The other big muse I've found in recent months was actually listening to or reading Tolkien books: "The Silmarillion", "Beren and Luthien" and "Fall of Gondolin" the beautiful prose and the rich lore just sparks new ideas I want to try to play off of or emulate in my own fics.

Are there any reoccurring themes in your writing? If so do they surprise you?

I always like stories of characters that are beaten down, up against the world, maybe a little unappreciated, but not giving up. Even if they cannot win they try their best and work hard. A lot of sadness too. I don't express much of that sadness IRL so that is a bit surprising.

Characters:

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character?

Tough call - probably the Lady of Light, Galadriel based on the ROP - characterization

Which of your characters would you be friends with in real life?

Hmm, I'm not sure if I would be best friends but I think I would get along with Ereddâz, my Orc OC from A Lord and his Builder.

I think Galadriel would ignore me and Sauron would send me to his dungeons to be a thrall.

Which characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

Melkor from my First Fire in the Void fic

Do you notice any reoccurring themes/traits in your characters?

I touched on it above, I think I like writing characters that believe they are doing the right thing. I do not like writing characters that are specifically and intentionally bad. Even my villains have plausible motivations or perspectives to justify their actions.

How do you picture your characters?

Most of my writing is currently around the Rings of Power cast and that style.

I am dabbling with non-ROP fics, like First Fire in the Void and there I pictured Mairon based on a lot of fanart that basically draws him like a pretty woman with long red hair lol.

My Writing:

What’s your reason for writing?

A creative outlet. For years and years I would day dream my own stories, going back to when I was a kid, I was also a pretty decent DnD DM making up my own campaigns. I've often had dreams of telling stories by creating video games (I am a software dev professionally) but I usually get stuck on the actual technology side of creating a game and can never get to the creative side. By writing fic, I was able to just get my ideas out there without being held back by the lack of skills in other areas (game dev, art, making a story interactive and still make sense)

Is there any specific comment or type of comment from readers that you find particularly motivating?

Ive gotten a few amazing comments that say this is their favorite fic and I can't believe it since I just write one of many thousands of fics so I feel honored, and for my WIPs a little pressured, to produce more at that level.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I want to write stories other people like, I do think about how can I make a story original in a way no one else does? What's a premise no one else has or could be done differently?

But really I am mostly writing stories that I like?

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I think putting my characters through emotionally charged or traumatic events where they have realistic responses or reactions that I or I think readers might relate to emotionally.

How do you feel about your own writing?

I read other writing and it feels so polished and natural. I often feel like I am "emulating good writing" rather than being a good writer myself. I like my stories and plots but I am not always impressed by the words on the page after writing them. Sometimes I just give up during editing and just post and people seem to like it enough.

When you write are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, do you write purely for yourself, or is it a mix of both?

AS I was saying I do think about the readers and I'm surely influenced by what I see in the community and what people respond to but every single idea is a kind of "wouldn't this be cool" idea I have myself first and then I judge how much I think other people would also find it to be cool or enjoyable. That part I sometimes guess at or things resonate with others that I didn't expect

No pressure tags!

@eowyn7023 @demonscantgothere @cliffdivingsblog @pursuitseternal @theriverwild

[technodromes]

2, 4, 12, 15, 19 !

Meme

Who was your first muse? Online in general, I'm pretty sure it was Noah/Greed from Soul Eater. I was active on Animexx back then and only wrote in German. On Gaia Online, I wrote Renzo Shima from Blue Exorcist. And then on tumblr, I think it was Slayer from Guilty Gear. But I was writing waaaay earlier actually. On paper. With my mum. I get into that in another reply with the same question tho ;) Favourite thing about roleplaying? There's lots I like about it, Idk which I'd call my favorite. But one thing I like is learning about new series and the people writing characters from there. During my time rping in Isola Radiale (Citta Alveare at first), I get to know many series/games I never ever heard of before and it was nice. I also got to know many ppl online from all over the world, but I lost contact with many of them sadly. Have you any old muses that you’d love to bring back? Yeah, tho he's not very old per se. I was just thinking about Hypno/Mezmer-Ron today and a few days back. He'd even vaguely match into my main blog, being from the TMNT franchise. But his muse has been massively on and off and I don't want to set him up only to never touch him again here lol. *side-eyes my side-blogs which I consider cutting off for good* What do you look for in a rp partner? A willingness to communicate openly with me. To be frank, depression and constant self-doubting are recurring problems of mine, sometimes more and sometimes less. I am very chill about writing or interests and I really don't care how long a reply takes or where partners come from etc. But, I tend to assume a lot, and usually, it's assuming the worst (which also runs a bit in the family, my dad is the personification of pessimism and sarcasm). I am already happy on discord when I see a reaction on my posts to know it was seen, I don't need a reply right away. Same for tumblr replies/memes, I'm already happy when I see a like to the thing/s I wrote. I just made a lot of bad experiences in the past and silence tends to make me think I did/said something wrong or stupid pretty quickly. It's a thing I struggle with since a while and I might get there eventually in silencing these negative voices a bit but yeah. Communication is super important to me. If there's a problem, tell me.

Do you listen to music whilst writing? If so, what kind of music? Depends a lot on my mood. I often daydream to music and it can distract me a lot when I'm writing. I keep telling myself that I want to spend an afternoon setting up playlists on youtube for writing and other activities but I never do it lol. I also still need to post a playlist for Shredder and/or Krang but I'm hands-down terrible with playlists. I found out that I can focus better on writing and drawing when I listen to sad tracks, which usually totally don't fit the stuff I write but it still works kinda. 'To Your Eternity' compilations, for example.

[midzilla]

its the third year of 2020 and you can’t convince me otherwise

As usual, I like to do my own year end reviews.

Unlike 2021, 2022 hasn’t been a great art year. A lot of things pressed in on me over the year, from deep depressions to transition stress, that combined with my hyper fixations fading leaving doing art something low on my mental priorities. I want to but rarely feel the drive to.

Will 2023 be better, who knows. Below the cut, one piece per month that I’m fond of.

January - what good is a one footed witcher be to anyone I really like the composition on this - tho the credit I take is minimum cause its based off of a in-game screenshot. Still, I hit a lot of aspects from a fic I really like and that’s just cool

February - I imagine it goes like this To be frank, this was too much effort for a shitpost. I keep falling into that trap.

March - field Around March, I started to have basic art issues that I’m still struggling with. A lot of problems with basic construction, a low well of ideas. I like this piece cause it hits my own interests but it probably wasn’t exciting for anyone else

April - what class would a witcher be in dragon age I’m sure I’ve said this before but I will find any excuse to draw armor. I love drawing armor. It’s not easy and it comes out looking wrong a lot but its a fun thing to do. This was just an excuse to draw armor a lot but also play with some designs I really like. I did change a few aspects so that more elements crossed over between each type

May - relax I really like the whole relax series, it feels like the last time I did things really unplanned and it worked out. I started with a pose with each and just filled out details. It was... relaxing.

June - different sky I fell back into Star Trek around June. Not much to say about this one tho.

July - the crone Here in the summer months you can really start to feel things crumbling around me. While I have pieces I like, art was getting harder and harder. I was stressed a lot.I like this small series I did of OCs no one cares about

August - palette challenge I hate colouring, that’s another thing you might have heard. The palette challenge was one I always avoided cause I thought I couldn’t do it. I did, and I like all the results, but I did also create (I used one colour as shading with a layer effect)

September - the image of a witcher This was a redraw that I’ve wanted to do since the original and I’m still not happy about how the idea came out. Oh well

October - nothing I had surgery this month. I got better but I’m still suffering from the bad habits I built while recovering.

November - smartest in the room, bored to death This was a random doodle that I fell in love with and think I did unusually good at colouring.

December - see you in the ether Bankrupt for ideas, I went back to a sketch done in March. Unfortunately, that is the best expression of my mental state when it comes to art these days. Piece came out nice tho, considering I’m no good at painting.

[frankcastlescumslut]

I literally want to send every single one from that list but I'll just send a few.

The holding hands in a stressful situation

Forehead kisses

Falling asleep on their lap

Being carried to bed

I'm weakkkkk

OKAY I HAVE TO WRITE FOR MATT AND FRANK BC DUH. but send me as many as you want so I have a reason to escape to my mind palace 🙈

FOR MATTHEW MURDOCK.

the sound of rain tapping against the large windows fills the vacant apartment. it’s late, per usual- somewhere between midnight and 2am- and you’re perched against the leather couch waiting for Matt to get home. you hate the rain and thunder, so you can’t imagine how HE is handling it with his overworked senses.

your head falls against the palm of your hand and you gently nod into the feel, but your head snaps quickly as you fight sleep. this continues for far too long until you eventually give in, the comfort of the couch easing you into a light sleep.

the feel of lips pressing into your forehead startles you awake, “hey! hey sweetheart, it’s just me!”, and you relax as you take in the form of your boyfriend, his hand brushing your face gently. “c’mon,” he holds a hand out for you to take to ease you to the bedroom.

“matty,” you pull him into you, and he lands against the cushion with a laugh. “missed you… wanna talk to you” your head falls against his shoulder. “you’re tired, sweetheart. i’ll stay in tomorrow, let’s just get some sleep, hm?” his arm wraps around you to draw you closer but your head lands in his lap.

“‘m awake, ‘m awake. tell me about your day” you manage to convince him, and he rattles off a list of things that caught his attention today. the last thing you hear is some comment about how the daredevil suit becomes a sauna when it rains.

he notices the way your breathing became deeper and more rhythmic which had spurred him on the tangent of recounting his day. he thought you were lying the time you told him his voice was soothing and could put you to sleep, but he soon found out you really did mean it.

he gently untangled himself from your body before carefully lifting your sleeping form. you stirred momentarily, nuzzling into Matt’s chest with a hum, as he carried you to the bedroom.

the silk sheets welcomed your body, and you signed into the soft mattress. he stood there for a moment and admired you to be best of his abilities. your rhythmic breathing and steady heartbeat were soothing to him, but the sound of your fingers mindlessly gripping for something pulled him from his trance.

he quickly found a pair of sweatpants and carefully shuffled into the bed. even in sleep you were able to seek out his familiar frame and nestled into the crook of his neck. he gladly wrapped his arms around you as he placed a kiss to your forehead, your heartbeat easily lolling him to sleep.

FOR FRANK CASTLE

your grunts and moans fill the small apartment as you attempt to adjust your body to the couch. every part of you aches, bruises litter your body from a mission gone wrong, and you can hardly find a comfortable position.

the ice pack falls to the ground as you attempt to turn to your side and taunts you from the ground. god damnit! for an assassin, you sure weren’t nimble as your body rolled to the floor, knees catching your fall with a thud.

Frank happened to walk through the door at just the wrong? right? time, and his eyes widened at your compromised state. he immediately strides towards you, hands gingerly placed on your back as you heave on all fours.

“c’mon, you’re tellin’ me you lost to a couch?” he tries to lighten the mood as he presses a kiss to your temple, balancing on his knees as he holds his hand out to you. you take his hand in your grip, nails digging into the soft flesh as you attempt to hoist yourself up. Attagirl. Frank grits his teeth at your grip, wondering how much pain you truly were in.

“careful, careful, lemme help” he towers over you as he stands to his full height, his arm carefully bearing most of your weight. “let’s get you to the bed, c’mon” , but you protest quickly. “been in bed all day, Frankie. I need to get up” you wince as you place your full weight on your feet, trying to put on a brave face.

“my ass, c’mon” he chuckles at your feeble attempt but stops as you huff with each step, finally taking in the full extent of your injuries. a flip switches in him; and he feels like an idiot for believing your lies from before, i’m fine, really! go! since when did you need me to cover your ass?

his forearm connects to the back of your knees and youre folding in half as he hoists you into his arm, careful to avoid any major injuries. you try to protest, really, you do, “put me down! i’m fine- ow- this is too much! I’m- ow- not a baby” but you can’t help but sigh in relief as the pressure is taken off of your back.

“you’re my baby,” he says with a wink as he carries you through the threshold of your bedroom. the bed feels too familiar under your weight but you enjoy the way Frank joins you. you try to adjust in a way that relieves the pain, finally finding solace in a rather…. suggestive position.

you start on all fours but lower your chest to meet the mattress, resting your head in the crook of your crossed arms below you. you’d been in this position many times before, usually with Frank behind you, and you can practically hear the thoughts in his head.

shut up, you grumble with closed eyes. “i didnt say anything!” he fully laughs now, and you open one eye towards him. “it’s the only way it feels better” you pout in defeat, slowly stretching your neck.

“c’mere, got an idea”, he grabs an unused pillow and places it on his lap, patting it to guide you towards him. “francis…” you mumble before giving in, not willing to admit that this new position was much more comfortable. you sigh into his touch as he caresses your head. “quit lookin’ at me” you manage to quip through lazy lips and closed eyes before resting in the arms lap of your lover.

LOL SORRY I WENT OVERBOARD thank you for the ask <3

[sparxymcfly]

Hiiii I know we've never really talked before but I love your blog so much <3

Please ramble about Marty and his relationship with Einstein w/ me it's a crime how much lack of Marty and Einie content there is

So I think Einie is very very protective of Marty and he's the best doggo comforter, like, ever

YOU. YOU DRAW THE MARTY AND DOC HUGS. You've done other things also but I'll be frank you're doing the world a service every time. Actually I don’t recall if I’m following your art account on this one I’m gonna fix that if I’m not. I AM, good. Also I mean hey!! Journey of a thousand miles, friendships start somewhere, yada yada Heya ^^ And it's always so cool to hear people like what I put out! Random nonsense and all.

Einstein and Marty.... oh you have Wonderful taste. Let’s hit this let’s Hit this. I’m gonna use bullet points to hopefully maybe make it more organized <3

I’VE SEEN THAT... or perhaps just made the connection myself when I’ve seen people write or otherwise talk about it, but Einstein lying on top of Marty for comfort and it’s both dog cuddles and akin to a weighted blanket for stress relief/anxiety. Marty passed the Einstein test, we Know this dog absolutely loves this kid- cuddles and protection... yes.

Personally, I like to imagine Einstein is always the first to know when Marty’s arrived. Even past Doc just having, eventually, a general window in mind for when Marty is bound to get there- of course, allowing for obligations Marty’s mentioned, the potential for detention, that kind of thing. Einstein always knows. As far as every time we’ve ever seen him, Einie hasn’t come off as a very vocal dog when there isn’t danger afoot- the terrorists arriving, or Edna.... y’know, in general. Einstein was right <3

But, setting a potential scene- Doc’s working in his lab as per usual, perhaps there’s music playing from the jukebox, and Einstein’s dozing away in his dog bed. Marty’s barely touched the gate and our dear boy Einie’s already sitting up, eyes glued to the door as he waits for Marty to walk inside. How else will he be the first to greet him? Einstein’s never missed a visit and he’s never been wrong. I imagine it’s usually just watching, sometimes walking up to get a pet, but Einie’s got a sixth sense for when Marty’s had a particularly bad day. Even when Marty’s not ready to talk about it yet, Einstein’s at the Ready to sit by for any cuddles, soft fur for petting, and in especially dire circumstances, face licks to help Marty gather himself back up.

I also think Marty absolutely feeds Einstein french fries when they bring back Burger King. He was Einstein’s favorite little guy before then but this was icing on the cake. He pretends to be slick but Doc absolutely knows he’s doing this- the couple weeks he let Marty live thinking he was sneaky were just very amusing.

OH YES AND WALKS. Marty and Einstein on walks is I think just a very good experience. Einstein’s a well-trained dog and doesn’t pull or bark too often, so they’re usually pretty peaceful affairs! I think the funniest mental image is that it’s actually not really Einstein that pulls along to random things or derails the walks, but Marty who will sometimes make an impulsive decision to walk the opposite way today, or take a long way around to burn some energy or because he wants to admire that sick four wheeler again. Einstein follows along obediently of course, because he loves the walks and also because he’s stuck to Marty’s side like glue anyway, this is just a new environment. In my head I can also easily imagine an occasion where Marty might’ve wandered off where he shouldn’t have, or perhaps they stayed out a tad too late, or what have you that led to what could’ve been a dangerous encounter... were it not for dear faithful Einstein being suddenly very scary and loud! Einstein is ride or die and he says it won’t be Marty who dies, so it sounds like anyone who messes with them is sorely out of luck.

Sometimes when Doc is out for whatever reason when Marty arrives after school- perhaps off to pick things up, perhaps just in the backyard- and Marty’s had a bad day, he won’t wait to tell it to Doc. Einstein is a very good listener- he’s listened to Doc’s many many rambles and rants and ‘taken part’ in conversations, and he’s listened to every single name under the sun Marty’s used to describe Strickland, Biff, and any number of other unfortunate encounters of the day. Oh, if dogs could talk. Well, Einstein probably wouldn’t say terribly much, I think he’d still be a bit of a listener.

A boy and his [best friend's] dog :) man this is a really fun thought exercise it’s making me smile a lot.

POV: You are 17 and your heart is soft. Your french fries are forfeit.

[theneighborhoodwatch]

Hey! I’m so excited to find a blog investigating the WH website! I’ve been trying to find blogs that try to piece together what’s been going on but since this is an upcoming project the fandom is pretty small (not that that’s a bad thing it’s just harder to find theories and informational posts about it sometimes) so it’s great to see you gather up the info and sharing ideas on what’s going on. Also, I checked out the site and the books in that gif of Frank’s head spinning and thought I saw something else that I wanted to add. In the “Do you think/know about me” part there’s additional text right after it that seems to say “You do.” which I thought was pretty interesting! I’m thinking that this could be Wally since he’s the one breaking the fourth wall the most so far and that he’s kind of answering for us (kind of like what he did on that phone call when he went: “Did you like my joke”, “I think you were going to say, yes!”) which could be because he can read our minds (from the call: “it’s hard to you think through this funny phone”) but what are your thoughts on this?

Also, I was wondering if you are interested in making any post on the images in the WH website and what happens when you inspect them? Because I have screenshots of all the info I found when investigating them if you were interested!

thank you!! there’s definitely other folks out there keeping an eye on the site and archiving things even more extensively (before the old phone recording was re-uploaded, for example, i knew at least 2 separate people who just Had It on hand. they never shared it publicly, for obvious reasons.) but most of the discussion’s in private gcs and servers and such. i’m definitely not complaining about that btw - the more the merrier! - but i thought it’d be convenient for other folks who were interested to have somewhere to host the observation doc in public.

and YESSS i would be VERY interested in seeing those screenshots if you’ve got them on hand. i’ve tried inspecting other images on the website before, but i’ll admit my tech literacy is lacking and i’m always scared of irrevocably fucking up the site layout somehow, so i’ve never gotten very far.

as for the actual observations:

i Do see that “you do”! i’ll add that to the doc right now. it definitely seems like wally’s being presented as a “patient zero” of sorts, since we know from the actual overview page that eventually Everyone gets in on the 4th wall-less existential dread roulette one way or another. however, i feel like “patient zero” is kind of a misleading term here, not only because there isn’t anything to suggest that this meta-awareness(?) is contagious in a traditional sense (at least not yet, but i don’t think there’s ever going to be, is what i’m getting at here) but also because i don’t quite think that wally being aware of the 4th wall is something that was an accident, per se - currently i think that at most, it was an unforeseen consequence of something very much intentional.

something about wally that clown likes to emphasize on their tumblr or on livestreams a lot is that he can Learn and is constantly Learning, though he may not always draw the “correct” conclusion from information he’s gathered (one example they’ve given multiple times is that barnaby taught wally how to laugh, but instead of actually laughing, wally just says the words “ha ha ha,” implying he thinks of it as a general expression of contentment/good will instead of something that’s usually an involuntary reaction.) you see some of this in the filenames for the guestbook doodles, too, where wally has to ask other neighbors what clowns are or what wiggle means, and doesn’t seem to realize that frank’s example of a clown was supposed to be a dig at barnaby (or alternatively, he just chose not make note of it since it’s not very polite.)

my working theory is that this is a result of wally being an audience surrogate, or at least the neighbor that was meant to be the most relatable to children, since As A General Rule, kids have a lot to learn about the world. if we follow that train of thought, wally has a greater reliance on human input than perhaps any other neighbor, and may be making himself at home on the welcome home restoration project website (or maybe even set the website up himself, somehow) so that he has a way to continue learning even after the show’s cancellation and/or get the show back on air in order to continue learning; it is called the welcome home restoration project, after all. again, heavy emphasis on “theory” here - this definitely doesn’t account for every specific instance of weirdness on the site right now, nor is it the Full scope of what i think may be going on, but it’s what’s most relevant to this ask!

[nanasparadise]

“Losing my senses for you” Yan!Joseph (Part 3) x female reader

Hiya everyone! Here’s a little Yan! Joseph (Part 3) x female reader for y’all because apparently, I like to see Suzi suffer lol

Summary: You and your soulmate Joseph share a pleasant dream, as always. Though suddenly, the elderly wants to take your friendship to the next level...

TW: age gap, implied cheating, implied kidnapping, toxic relationship, MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY/MINORS DNI 

I do not condone any yandere behaviour in real life.

Word count: 2022

Joseph had always thought of himself as a sensible man. Sensible enough to fall in love with his current wife and have a child with her, disregarding the fact that Suzi Q wasn’t his soulmate. Why would he have denied himself love, a family? No, Joseph had been rational enough to not care about that ‘dreaming of your soulmate’ humbug. That had been the case until he’d met you.

The male would have never imagined seeing his soulmate in his dream, not after all these years being married and especially not as an elderly man. You were still so young, a blooming flower in your twenties, ready to conquer the world. How could Joseph be your soulmate? But there was no denying that the Brit was constantly dreaming of you. Nearly every morning he’d wake up, your face still lingering on his mind while his spouse slept peacefully next to him, knowing nothing about her husband’s dream invader. Sometimes, he’d even whisper your name. Joseph didn’t have the heart to tell her, after all, Suzi had been his love for most of his life. But apparently, not the one to spend the remainder of it with.

This night wasn’t an exception when it came to your nocturnal visits. This time, the two of you sat on the terrace of a café near Joseph’s flat in New York City. The crowding streets of the metropolis filled the air with a cacophony of sounds: honking taxi cars, chatting people, the occasional dog that barked loudly. Even though every tiny thing seemed to buzz with life, Joseph knew that none of this was real- all would cease to exist once he’d wake up, except for him and you. Politely, you smiled at the Brit. 

“Hello Mr. Joestar, how are you doing today?”, you greeted him, as you always did. Both of you had agreed that you wouldn’t refer to the elderly man with his first name, wanting to keep some distance between you. Just like Joseph, you had been more than surprised to notice that your soulmate wasn’t a person around your age. Though never having been openly said, you two knew you wouldn’t pursue any romantic advances towards each other. At some point, Joseph had even revealed to you that he was married and had a daughter and a grandson. But since you hadn’t found a way yet to end these dreams, you were behaving on an amicable basis. The male believed you’d probably see in him a grandfather figure. Though Joseph couldn’t tell anymore if he saw you as a granddaughter …

As per usual, the pair consisting of you chattered the whole time. You told him about your new job, how you were nervous to meet your colleagues, wondering if you’d get along well. While you were talking, you kept fiddling the napkin next to you, demonstrating your anxiety. During your countless encounters, Joseph had learnt to read your body language. Confidently, the man rested his real gloved hand on top of yours, stopping your tic. You stared into the male’s green eyes, astonishment written on your face. 

“Y/N,” Joseph said softly, “you don’t need to be nervous, dear. How could they not like such a ray of sunshine like you?” He flashed you a big grin at his final words. You averted his tender gaze. Oh, how Joseph loved this bashful expression on your face. You were so easy to tease. 

“Thank you, Mr. Joestar, though I think you’re exaggerating.” 

“Please, call me Joseph”, the elderly man blurted out. A big thumb idly drew circles on the back of your hand. He didn’t know what had driven him into saying this, into breaking the formal distance between you -  at least he didn’t know consciously. Deep inside, he was well aware that he loved you - more than just a friend, than a granddaughter, hell, even more than Suzi. In the end, you were his soulmate. Suddenly, all the previous talk about how any other kind of love paled compared to the love for your soulmate didn’t seem like humbug to Joseph anymore. No, the once reasonable man had been utterly struck by the arrow of a foolish love, a love he hadn’t experienced beforehand – not even with his wife. He had been struck by you. Your surprise only grew. 

“Are you sure? Wouldn’t that be awkward?”, you asked hesitantly, eyeing your hand. Joseph stayed persistent though. 

“Not at all, Y/N. It’s only natural to call me by my first name after all our dates, isn’t it?”, the man winked playfully at you. He really wanted to see how far he could go with his flirtatious banter until you’d retreat. Or maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t. Maybe you’d feel the same as him, wanting more out of these encounters. Maybe… Hope blossomed in Joseph’s chest, making the elderly man feel like a lovesick teenager all over again. Only you held that much power over him. Your following words crushed that spark of hope fairly quickly though. 

“I don’t know, Mr. Joestar…,” you retorted, obviously refusing to address him as Joseph, “Don’t you think it would enable unwanted feelings between us? This is quite a hard situation anyway for us – you with your family, me with my young age – I don’t think we need to complicate things further.” At this statement, the light in Joseph’s green eyes extinguished like a flame. Of course. He might have lost his mind, but you didn’t. No, you remained rational, cool-headed. 

“Ah, I see”, Joseph simply replied, barely hiding the disappointment in his raspy voice. “This is for the best, you old fool,” the tiny voice whispered in Joseph’s head, “How could you keep up with her?” Bitter at his own thoughts, the man made a crestfallen grimace. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t intend to hurt your feelings in any way. I do enjoy the time we spend together and I appreciate you, Mr. Joestar”, you added remorsefully. The Brit’s heart warmed at your words of consideration. You cared for him, you must, he was convinced. The effects of the soulmate bond couldn’t just be ignored by you. Maybe, there was still a chance for him. Maybe…

“Y/N”, Joseph murmured your name ever so gently. Surprised by the softness of his tone, you looked up to him. He briefly wetted his lips before he proceeded talking. “I appreciate you, too. A lot, actually. Every time I’m in your company, I’m the happiest man alive. You draw me in and I can’t help myself but wanting more.” You tried to interrupt him, but Joseph quickly stopped you by raising his hand and continuing his speech. “Ah ah, honey, please let me finish. I know what you want to say: ‘But Mr. Joestar, what about your family?’ Well, they’ll understand, they have to. We’re soulmates, I can’t just ignore that. I’ll leave my wife for you, then we can start a life together. Please, my love, consider my words. After all, even without knowing it, I’ve been waiting the whole time for you.” Joseph gazed intensely in your eyes, yearning painted across his face. He patiently watched you gulp heavily and waited for your answer while he put his hand back on yours. 

“Your words are sweet and I’m grateful for your sincerity, Mr. Joestar,” you eventually sputtered, “you’re dear to me, I’d be lying if I said you weren’t, but not in the way you intend it to be. I don’t think I could ever see you in a romantic way. And even if I could, I don’t want to be a homewrecker. I know you love your family, you shouldn’t toss them away for me.” Joseph sighed deeply. He’d learnt with experience to tame his quick temper, but still, impatience flared up inside him. 

“Why can’t you give me, give us, a try? I’m aware that our initial plan was to keep some distance between us, but if we both have feelings for each other, why deny them then? You said you couldn’t see me as a lover, but I don’t believe that. Give me a chance and I’ll prove you how much I love you.” Joseph slightly squeezed your hand while spilling out his passionate words. “You said I shouldn’t toss away my family, but you want me to throw you away. How could I do that? Every morning, it’s your name that escapes my lips, your body I want to feel next to mine, your scent I want to inhale.” The man grew desperate the more he talked. “Don’t worry about our age difference, I know a way for you to grow old with me.” Joseph perceived your puzzled face from the corner of his eyes as he fixated his gaze on your hand, but kept speaking. “I can give you so much Y/N, if only you’d let me. Please, let us try it.” He finally looked up to you, fearing and yet anticipating your reaction. Yes, only you could make him this nervous… Your brows were tightly furrowed, though a hint of sympathy seeped through your kind eyes. 

“Joseph…”, you whispered softly. The Brit’s heart fluttered like a hummingbird upon hearing you finally say his first name. “I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to reveal this to you, but it’s only fair for me to be honest to you as well. I’ve actually met this man a while ago.”

Joseph’s jaw dropped at your confession and his eyes widened. No, this couldn’t be true. He felt as if his whole world had shattered in this moment. Cruelly, you decided to hurt him more with your words. “And to be frank, things are going well. We’ve even talked about moving in together. I think he might be the one I want to spend my life with, Joseph.” Thud. Joseph’s prosthetic hand slammed harshly on the table. Instinctively, you winced at the loud noise. 

“Why would you say that to me?!”, the man in front of you shouted, desperation coating his voice, “Why would you break my heart like that? I can’t believe it! Here I am, thinking about leaving my wife for you while you’ve been having fun with some other guy!” Joseph’s grasps painfully tightened around your hand. His handsome features had transformed into a terrifyingly furious grimace. You gasped fearfully, trying to retrieve your hand from Joseph’s hold. “Why would you bother to be with him when I’m right here? He isn’t your soulmate, I am!” Hot anger flooded the male’s body. It’s been years since he felt this kind of raw emotion again. Joseph glared at you while you still tried unsuccessfully to escape his grasp. Eventually, he let go of your hand. Hastily, you pulled it away from the table. Taking a deep breath, you spoke up. 

“I think you forget that I’m still an independent woman, Mr. Joestar.” 

“So we’re back at the surname, huh?”, the Brit thought gloomily. 

“No matter if we’re soulmates, I’ve still got my own life, as you do. Which means I can choose with whom I’m in a relationship. I hope this incident here is non-recurring and that you’ve come back to your senses the next time we’ll see each other.”

With these final words, Joseph woke abruptly up. Adrenaline was still pumping through his veins from his intense outbreak. While laying down on his bed, he tried to calm his agitated breaths. “I should come back to my senses, huh?,” the male muttered quietly into the room as to not wake up Suzi, “What a bold thing coming out of your mouth, since you’re the source for my irrational behaviour.” Yes, Joseph had always thought of himself as a sensible man. But times had changed. And drastic times called for drastic measures. Subconsciously, the Brit knew exactly what had to be done if he didn’t want to lose you to that pest you thought was your boyfriend. Slowly, he climbed out of his bed. Joseph glanced one more time at his spouse’s sleeping form. 

There was no turning back now.

Out of a drawer, the man grabbed a polaroid camera and called out his Stand.

[featherquillpen]

Reclist: Eldritch/Inhuman Castiel

My interest in Supernatural, such as it is, begins and ends with Castiel, a gay angel who is portrayed by known human being Misha Collins, but is shown by visual storytelling (shattering glass, fallen trees, dramatic lightning flashes) and in dialogue ("I am a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent", "my true body is the size of the Chrysler Building") to be an incorporeal nightmare monster who just so happens to have possessed a suburban dad. I am a monsterfucker who absolutely wanted to read about a terrifying eldritch gay angel, but I discovered to my great disappointment that most SPN fanwork portrays him as a quirky human man lightly dusted with halo spice.

However, I have managed to find some fanwork that gave me the many-eyed, mind-breaking, dorky gay possession spirit that I crave, and I thought I would share my finds with all my fellow alienfuckers. Also, for those alienfuckers who are not in this fandom (excellent life choice, by the way) I have marked with an asterisk (*) those fanworks that I think work well without any knowledge of SPN.

Fanart

Contra's trueform!Cas art

Contra's take on Cas's trueform is inspired and incredibly cute. I love how he draws Cas as his usual nearly expressionless human vessel, but then has a very expressive trueform expanding like a giant cloud of wings and eyes around him.

Carolina's trueform!Cas art

Carolina's take on Cas's trueform is very abstract and intriguing. In the example I linked, the blue and tan and white of Jimmy Novak's iconic outfit spill out in a chaos of triangles and wings and animal heads from Jimmy's body as Cas possesses him, as well as the red burn of Cas's handprint on Dean.

Friendly Pigeon's Giant Castiel series*

Friendly Pigeon heard Castiel say that his true form was the size of the Chrysler Building and decided to take that to its logical fanart conclusion. This art beautifully communicates the awe-inspiring scale of a cosmic being like Cas.

angel-derangement's trueform!Cas art*

This fanartist draws Cas so different every time, and so WEIRD that I am honestly inspired. These trueforms are inspired by everything from the lighting aisle at a hardware store to Lisa Frank. Feast your eyes.

Long Fanfic (>50k)

Cruel Angels* by orphan (107k)

The ultimate in eldritch!Cas. This author delivered to me everything I wanted: Cas walking the earth in a giant, freaky, many-headed form that sends everybody but Dean screaming for the hills. The sheer power, scale, and alienness of Castiel in this fic is unparalleled, and yet he always tries so hard to do the right thing, in his endearing way.

Cinderwings* by bendingsignpost (182k)

The Cas in this Cinderella-ish AU is technically not as alien as in most of the fics on this list, in that he is a corporeal humanoid being who just happens to have ginormous wings, but the fic does a great job of portraying Cas and angels in general as very culturally distinct from humans - a lot of the drama of this fic comes from Cas operating from totally different first principles than humans do.

So Says the Sword* by komodobits (85k)

An AU(-ish? it's complicated) where Dean says yes to being Michael's vessel, and Castiel is assigned to guard him. Castiel and Dean are basically locked in a holodeck together, under terrible circumstances, and bond with each other while they wait for the apocalypse. The Castiel POV is beautiful, his true form scene is awe-inspiring, and the fic is so poetically written in general.

Medium Fanfic (10 - 50k)

Broadway Musical* by Griftings

An exceedingly silly AU that includes references to Jewish angel lore, angels having three animal heads as per the Book of Revelation, and Cas having previously possessed a dinosaur as a vessel. I love that Cas has an internal conversation going with Jimmy throughout the fic, a stream of petty arguments and useful tips for playing human, which emphasizes how Cas is not his vessel.

closer (isn't close enough) by fleeceframe

A finale fix-it in which Cas is now an archangel. While Cas is roughly humanoid in this fic, you still get the immensity and power of his true nature. In this fic, he heals trauma damage directly from Dean and Sam's brains, and designs a heaven for bees, which is just... such wholesome weird angel content.

Autrement, Danger - or, The Account of an Exceedingly Long Day by awed_frog (31k)

The description of Cas's true form in this story was so poetic and beautiful I actually cried. This fic captures the concept of the sublime: the feeling you get in prayer or in contemplation of nature that you are very small and the universe is vast and frightening and breathtaking.

Short Fanfic (<10k)

Fata morgana. by orange_crushed (7k)

Castiel in hell, searching for Dean, from demon!Bela's point of view. I love how Bela's demon senses can see Cas's Grace fading and warping in hell. Cas is also just so hopelessly sweet amidst the bleakness of this story.

diamond star halo by jad (5k)

Castiel possessing Dean, from Sam POV. I love fic where Cas possesses other vessels than Jimmy, because it emphasizes that Cas is not his vessel - he is an incorporeal entity who needs help from humans to interact in the human world. Castiel!Dean in this story is just so weird and I love it.

Everyone is Trying to Get to the Bar by Balder12 (8k)

A very weird eldritch Cas made of blade-feathers and spinning wheels and tentacles, AND it's hurt/comfort! I'm such a sucker for fic where a monstrous/alien character is hurt and receives comfort, because monsters deserve love and care, too.

[queenbirbs]

on this winter night with you | Ethan Ramsey x MC

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Sloane McTavish)

Summary: Ethan attempts to decorate his apartment for Christmas and worries himself into the ground about it, as per usual. 

WC: 1.8k

Warnings: alcohol mention 

Notes: Takes place during book two. Title from Gordon Lightfoot’s “Song for a Winter’s Night.” 

------

“This looks stupid,” he mutters to himself for what might be the fortieth time. 

Still, Ethan can’t resist reaching out and shifting the small pile of presents again. As if another inch to the right will suddenly make them fit in amongst the other decor on his mantle. They should be in their traditional place under the tree, but Jenner nearly consumed an entire bow when he turned his back. And with how much time he wasted watching wrapping tutorials on his phone -- twenty-seven minutes, according to the video length and the amount of times he replayed it -- he doesn’t have the energy to deal with that again. 

Especially when he’s spent so much of the afternoon fighting with the lights. When he pulled them from the dark tomb of his guest bedroom closet, they were wrapped neatly around a divider -- thanks to his dad, who gifted them to him years ago. Somehow, in the short trek to the living room, Ethan managed to tangle them into an incomprehensible mess. 

And there went another sixteen minutes. 

He has studies published in several dozen medical journals; he wrote his own textbook before the age of 27; he’s been the keynote speaker at the North American Diagnostics Conference for two of the past five years. But Ethan doesn’t even want to know how long he struggled with wrapping the lights around the tree, before he realized he could just pull the damn thing away from the corner. After wrestling it back into said corner, he plugged in the cord. Only to find that the lights were set on some bizarre, rapid blinking pattern that he couldn’t seem to switch off. 

There must be a joke out there about a doctor reading a wikiHow article on how to set up a Christmas tree. He sure isn’t laughing, though. Because for all his troubles, his apartment looks like the set of a low-budget holiday special. 

“This looks stupid.”

From the floor, behind the makeshift barricade around the tree, Jenner grunts in agreement. Ethan bites back the sigh that begs to form, figuring that he’s met his quota already. It’s irrational to be nervous about something so trivial -- it’s all tinsel and plastic pine needles, after all. But that’s not counting for what’s at the bottom of the box on the coffee table. Which is why he wants this to be perfect. Which is why he should stop worrying over the decor and see to dinner. 

He’s only gotten to slicing the tomatoes when Jenner races to the front door. 

“--the state with the worst drivers, I swear,” Sloane says to no one in particular as she opens the door. “I read an article about it in The Atlantic.” 

Bundled up in her coat and his scarf, she shakes the snow from her hair. Fat drops of ice plod onto the rug. She bypasses the coat rack and drapes hers across a barstool, then dumps her bag and scarf onto the island, muttering all the while about Massachusetts drivers. Her heels clatter to the floor as she kicks them off and moans in relief. It should be silly that, despite the panic he feels at her early arrival and the slight annoyance at the mess she’s made of the foyer, he’s still hit with that familiar pang of affection for this woman. He likes being on this side of the fence when it comes to their relationship. The side where it’s just the two of them, with no workplace rules or curious onlookers to spy on them. The sex is fantastic, don’t get him wrong, but there’s something thrilling about the domesticity. He certainly wasn’t ever able to say that about his other relationships. 

Now, if he could emit any sort of verbal greeting from where he’s frozen in place at the counter.

“You’re early,” he declares, wincing at the lack of subtlety. 

“Patient transfer went without a hitch. Must’ve been one of those Christmas miracles I hear so much about. So Naveen said I could head out.” 

Sloane pops open the fridge and pulls out a bottle of wine. Passing behind him, she gives his hip a quick squeeze before locating the corkscrew. She glances up through the curtain of her hair at him and grins, reading his nervous energy as easily as a book. He’s never been good at hiding much from her which, looking back, was probably for the best. “I texted you.”

“I… you did?” 

Popping the cork, she shoots him another look as she pours them each a glass. He takes his and tries not to seem too eager to have a sip. Reflections on the bottle pull her attention from him and to the odd light show playing in the living room. Ethan watches as she rounds the couch and lets out an amused chuckle.  

“What’s with the textbooks?” 

“Jenner kept trying to eat the ornaments. And the tree skirt. And the tree.”

“Most people get those weird, little fences.”

“I’ll get a ‘weird, little fence’ next year.”

“Don’t. I like it. It’s very…” she tips her head to the side, as if she’s assessing an art piece and not the Great Wall of Oxford University Press, “...you.”

“Thanks. I think.” Coming to stand beside her, he gestures to a plastic storage bin on the coffee table. “I didn’t have a chance to hang the ornaments yet.”

“Good. We can do it together.” Bumping her nose against his arm, she drops a kiss to the fabric there, and then another on his jaw. “After dinner, though, because I’m starving.” 

Leaning down, he hauls her close with his arm around her waist and captures her lips with his own. After a long, long moment, he pulls away and lets them both catch their breath. 

“Me too,” he says, grinning when she rolls her eyes at his antics. 

“Yeah, I got that. C’mon, you take care of the main course and I’ll handle dessert.” 

------

“Isn’t this supposed to accompany dessert?” he questions as he reads the label. 

“Hush. It’s Christmas Eve. We’re both adults with high-stress jobs working on a veritable sinking ship that we’re choosing to go down with.” Sloane ticks off the reasons with her fingers, though she only gets as far as those two before he passes the bottle of Marchese dell’Elsa to her. “And it’s Christmas Eve.”

“You already said that.” 

“Enough backtalk.” She uses her stern voice, but the effect is diminished by the sleeves of his sweater sliding back down over her hands. “It’s time for the best part.” 

Reaching into the plastic bin, she pulls an ornament free from the tissue paper. It’s a green, silk ball, shot through with a gold stitching that’s coming loose. Ethan thinks it’s old enough to be his paternal grandmother’s. A woman he has few memories of, but the ones he has -- orange parquet floors, low, throaty laughs, and the spicy scent of menthol cream -- are fond. Sloane moves over to the tree and settles it near the top.

Frank Sinatra’s Christmas album and the hiss of the gas fireplace accompany them as they make slow work of emptying out the bin. Glittery snowflakes and chipping snowmen hang amongst the cheesy doctor phrases his dad insists on gifting him.  

“Aww look at you,” Sloane drags out the word as he lifts out one of the last ornaments. Crafted from popsicle sticks glued together, the makeshift frame holds a glossy picture of Ethan clutching a first place trophy for the fourth grade science fair. “What was your project?” 

“A lemon volcano.” 

“That’s so cute. Mine was on the different decomposition rates of plastic in fresh versus saltwater.”

“Nobody likes a braggart,” he mumbles, prompting a laugh from her as she snatches the ornament from his hand and hangs it dead center on the tree. 

She turns back to rifle through the bin for any small baubles they may have missed, only for her to lift out a gold key tied with a ribbon. Confusion draws her brows together as she inspects it. Though he despises hyperbole, he can’t deny the near-feeling of his heart in his throat. He gulps down what’s left in his glass and sucks in a breath. Sloane moves to place it on the tree when he reaches out to stop her. 

“No, wait -- it’s… it’s for you,” he manages to stutter out.   

She shifts to face him.

“What?”

“This year has been challenging. Probably the hardest and most grueling in a long time.” Ethan rubs his palm along his jaw, unable to suppress the smile that comes with his next words. “But you -- you made it all worth it. I can’t help but be thankful that I’m here with you, at the end of this awful year. And I know that we don’t know what’s going to happen with the hospital, or where we might be next year, but I don’t really care about any of that right now.” 

And hadn’t that been a revelation, that the career he’d spent a decade dedicating his life to cultivating had fallen to the wayside when it came to his future with Sloane. Because that’s what he wants, at the end of the day, at the end of this mess. “Having you here with me -- I’ve gotten used to it. And I’d like for you to continue being here with me. If you want to, that is.”  

Her green eyes are wide as they flicker from his face to the key and back again. The lights shimmer against the auburn waves that have come loose from her bun. She clears her throat and gives her head a little shake, as if waking herself from a daydream.  

“I -- what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I lied about needing to donate my clothes. I mean, I am still doing that, but the reason wasn’t just for a yuletide cleaning. I was making space. For you to move in with me.” 

He steps forward and settles his hands on her waist, kissing her once on the forehead. The smirk appears on his face, unbidden. “I thought I was being pretty obvious, what with leaving the top drawers empty and moving my suits to the guest closet.”

“I thought you were going to embrace the leather jacket look you picked up in Brazil and expand your wardrobe beyond grandpa sweaters and khakis,” she serves right back.

Ethan rolls his eyes at the dig. 

“Big talk for the thief currently wearing one of these so-called ‘grandpa sweaters.’” 

Sloane snuggles close, right into the space where she fits so well against his chest. Her fingers trace over the key. 

“My answer is yes, by the way.”

The confirmation warms him, right down to the center of his chest. Or maybe a little to the left. Cupping her face, he slides his lips along hers, sighing with content when she deepens the kiss.  

“I’m glad to hear it.”

------

Author’s notes and what-have-yous:

Another fic that’s mostly dialogue? Absolutely unheard of from me. Another fic that should’ve been posted in a timely manner? Yet here we are, day after Christmas. Oh well. 

Was the hospital talk vague enough for it to be obvious that I… haven’t exactly finished book 2? I got to chapter 14 and then work hit me like a category five hurricane for two and a half months, so I haven’t gotten a chance to actually play the last few chapters. I’ll get around to them eventually. 

Also: the Atlantic article is fake, though MA did receive the worst driver award back in 2014. As of 2020, Massachusetts was rated as the best for drivers (using data from 2017 through 2019).

Happy holidays and warm wishes to everyone still chugging through this wild, wild year. 

[buttercup-of-kaer-morhen]

Hello yes I am Completely Anonymous ONCE AGAIN and I have a prompt for you! Temporary (perhaps potion or drug induced?) Amnesiac!Geralt being absolutely floored and delighted that Jaskier is his lover. Please and thank you.

Hey completely anon,

I may or may not have gone a little off script for this prompt and really wanted to write more for my dumb magical college AU. Hope you enjoy it anyway. May I present!

Magic and Exams: Amnesia

Main tags: college AU, it’s modern but with magic slapped in, Jaskier and Yenn are besties (Fight me), Lambert/Aiden kinda?, Non human Jaskier,  And they were roommates~, pure fluff, pre relationship, pining… Kinda, unbetaed, we die like Renfri

——

It was official! Fate was cruel and destiny hated him. Jaskier had been fine with how life had been going. Classes were good. Friends were great. And, you know, he had finally stepped into a tentative friendship territory with his hot roomie rather than that weird close relationship you develop with your roomie. Things were just grand!-- Ignore the fact that he had a monster crush on said roomie, not important!-- What was important was that Lambert, the ass, suddenly showed up on Jaskier’s free day-- a day he was dedicating to his reading and composing, bouncing around his hobbies as he pleased-- with a semi confused looking Geralt. The witcher had barged into the dorm room towing Geralt along as Aiden brought up the rear. Now, he was going to ignore this intrusion at first but Lamby seemed to have other ideas. He loudly proclaimed to the bewildered white wolf that this was his room and, oh look, his partner. “Go ham bro!” To which, Geralt’s gaze snapped to Jaskier and proceeded to silently stare at the musician in contemplation.

Jaskier, as one would imagine, was stunned as his brain tried to understand what was happening but the dickhead explained no further as he turned to leave. Having none of it, Jaskier quickly stumbled to his feet and bolted for the two retreating figures, almost tripping several times on the shit covering the floor-- he really needed to remember to clean one of these just as Geralt had nagged him to do days ago! He managed to get a hand on the other wolf before he fully got out the door. “Explain. Now.” He demanded, his voice warbling as his eyes darkened slightly. 

“Woah shrimp!Calm your tits, you’re starting to look a little red around the gills-- Seriously though, a little siren is beginning to show.” Lambert tried to make light of the situation-- fish puns again, really Lambert?-- even though his smile gained a touch of nervousness as Jaskier tightened his grip. He held back his claws for the moment but he was this close to having a truly marvelous freak out on the man if he didn’t start giving answers. 

“Calm down angelfish, Lambert’s just being a prick as per usual.” Aiden cut off anything Lambert was going to say. Lambert gasped in betrayal as he gave the third witcher a look that probably tried to convey how much he was wounded, he couldn’t really see though nor did he really care right now. “Situation is, we were having a class trip across campus, something monster related that our proff was gushing the fuck over and insisted we needed to see. Waaaay too excited over it if you ask me but while we were passing a class of freshies in an outdoor charms 101 class, this one chick starts going off at--” Aiden explained but really, it seemed more like he was slowly getting off topic as he spoke. 

“Kitty, Get. To. The. Point.” He insisted slowly punctuating each word, while frowning in annoyance.

“Rude. I am! Anyway, this girl gets into a row with this guy in her class and fires off some kind of spell which was deflected but hilariously it ricocheted right towards us.” That was not hilarious in anyway but rather terrifying but Jaskier refrained from pointing this out. “You know Geralt though, life loves to fuck with him, so he gets hit straight in the back with it and Poof! He can’t remember some shit now. We think he only remembers up to starting college but nothing after.” Aiden finally finishes with a proud smile at having riveted the musician with his tale of adventure but it diminishes slightly in the face of Jaskier’s baffled expression. The half-siren really was quite proud of it, it just conveyed the right amount of Are you fucking idiots or did you just lose your brain on the way over!?

Jaskier took a deep breath and calmed himself before flatly staring both in the eye, his fingers steepled in front of his mouth as he thought of how to respond. “And why, pray tell, did you bring my accidentally spelled roommate to me rather than sending him to infirm?” He asked, deceptively sweet with a razor’s edge to it. 

Lambert scoffed. “He was being fucking annoying--” His words were abruptly cut off by Aiden’s hand roughly smacking over his mouth. 

“What he means is…” Aiden growled, glaring at the wolf to make sure he kept his mouth shut, to which Lambert huffed and flipped him off but otherwise remained silent. “Geralt kept prodding us ‘bout going to see his partner and, well, you were like the only one we could think of since everyone else has someone and this idiot is single like you.” The man punctuated his simplistic logic with a small shrug. 

Jaskier took a deep breath through his nose. “Uh-huh… This is a terrible fucking idea--” Before he could finish what he wanted to say, Lambert suddenly yanked his self free of his grip and threw Aiden over his shoulder.

“Your problem now bard!” He called over his shoulder as he booked it down the hall, cackling like the bastard he was. 

“Oh nonononono! Get the fuck back here!” He called after fruitlessly. They were already long gone. 

Jaskier sighed as he turned and closed the door to their room. Geralt seemed to have ignored and blocked out the whole exchange. Whether out of courtesy for Jaskier privacy or in favor of refamiliarizing himself with their space, he’d never know nor did he really care. When he finally turned his gaze back onto Jaskier, he just stared while scowling intensely in thought. It was rather insulting if Jaskier was being frank. With a roll of the eyes, the musician realized he’d just have to roll with whatever the idiots told Geralt about their “relationship” but wanted to head off the coming disappointment from the witcher. Jaskier was obviously not what he had been expecting, especially since normally the man barely tolerated him much less ever tried to invite him out, but it would sting less if he were the one to address it rather than the larger man stating it. At least that’s what he told himself. “Ok, alright. I know I’m not what you were expecting and rather disappointing compared to some of your past dalliances but please, let’s just get you to infirm. Once you have  your head back on right, everything will make more sense about the whole us thing and we can just forget about this whole embarrass--”

“You’re so handsome…” Geralt’s awed words cut Jaskier’s rambling off at the knees and had him blinking in surprise. “Or cute. No, both… How do you manage to be both?!” Geralt’s marveling had Jaskier at a loss for words. The witcher had never once complimented him in all the time they had lived together. Barbed jabs? Yes. Playful teasing? Very Often. Statements of facts? Definitely. But actual full on compliments? Nope! No, never happened. Was this how he actually saw the musician or was this some hokey hocus pocus side effect?! Or the man was dying as they spoke and was out of his mind. Either way Jaskier snapped his mouth closed, no it had not been hanging open thank you very much, and tried to get his brain to work again. 

“Wai-What?” Smooth Jaskier. His flabbergasted tone and excessive blinking seemed to not queue in Geralt however. 

“Man, I really lucked out. How’d I get a catch like you to even look my way? Wish I could remember how…” The normally stoic individual whistled long and low as he gave Jaskier a once over. A once over! Like Jaskier was a hottie from a club-- or however Ren said it-- instead of some music nerd overloaded with college minors! Jaskier was so astonished and caught off guard that he bagan sputtering incoherently, much to the Witcher’s amusement apparently if the wolfish grin was anything to go by. He was shocked and scandalized! Delighted but absolutely shocked! He had never witnessed this side of his roommate. Instead of addressing whatever was happening here, Jaskier stumbled over to his phone on the bed and quickly dialed Yennefer. 

It rang twice before he heard the familiar click of her answering and began nearly shouting before she could give her usual passive aggressive hello. “Yenn! I need help--”

“Whoa, calm the fuck down Jask, what the hell happened?!” Her worried demands cut him off. It was rather heartwarming to know his best friend sounded ready to draw blood for him. He could coo and awe about that later though!

“I’m fine but Geralt got hit with some hoodoo amnesia magic but I think it’s really just killing him! He’s acting delusional Yenn! He called me cute-- Stop laughing! This is serious!” He attempted to explain what was going on but his witch cut him off with her hysterical laughing on the other end of the line. Rude, by the way. This was a very serious matter.

“Sorry Dandy, you just, whew, gave me the best pick me up, I could have asked for. You really got me.” Yenn attempted to speak after most of it calmed down but a few giggles still managed to slip out. 

“Yenn… I’m serious. He actually doesn--” He was cut off yet again. People really needed to cut that shit out. 

“Lemme guess, Lambert is somehow involved?” She questioned, finally taking him a little more seriously, and he could practically hear her eye roll at the mischief maker’s name. 

“Yes…” He confirmed slowly as his eye wandered to Geralt again as his panic died down slightly. The white haired man looked very confused as Jaskier tried to smile reassuringly but it probably came off as unsure at best. 

The larger man came closer and placed warm large hands on his biceps as he looked intently into Jaskier’s eyes. “I mean it… I’m sorry if I never told you, I guess I was a pretty shitty boyfriend if I never told you how wonderful and caring you seem to be.” The other man apologized, as he looked away in shame. The words had the musician’s heart going wild as Yenn continued to talk in his ear. He really couldn’t hear her over his heart beating in his ears but it sounded like a demand to get Geralt to the infirmary. 

To which Jaskier answered, “That’s nice dear. I think I have to go to infirm now because I believe my heart is about to give out.” His voice was sighed out in shock as he hung up on Yenn’s sudden worried screeching.  Geralt on the other hand suddenly looked panicked and rather worried. 

“What?” He questioned as he started to look over his “boyfriend”. “Don’t worry Jask, I’ll get you there. Just hang on.” Geralt tried to reassure him, his voice was handsome with how rough and rumbling it suddenly was, as he scooped the smaller man up into his arms like a bride. No, Jaskier did not swoon he’ll have you know! The wolf then booked it out of the room. “Damn it! I wish Roach were here…” He muttered in a growl and Jaskier thanked the heavens that the man did not remember his horse-- cat? Was in their room sleeping. There would be plenty of rumors after this but it especially would have gone down in infamy if the Witcher had rode like the wind across campus on horseback again. Jaskier couldn’t do much at that point except lay back, accept his fate, and enjoy the other’s cooing, about taking care of his boyfriend or how good Jaskier was, while it lasted. But hey, at least he’d finally get Geralt to infirm.

[ramble-writes]

So... Today is my Frank's birthday. Yes it is May 1st deal with it. BUT, here we are again with MORE of the Frank Brothers! I told myself I was gonna do this cuz it would be nice and I'm finding myself liking this AU. So James belongs to (again~) @franks-mixtape! As for the Julie (same one from the previous one) that one belongs to my bf. So.. Happy Birthday to my boy, big ol’ boofer you are. And Luke I tried to make sure I still got a mellow raven tone right cuz hi I haven’t been writing in a while.

NOTE!!!! This would take place after the valentine’s fic. So meaning that Fenik and James met in 1995 which carried onto 1996 (year in-game legion disappeared). As for the first wolf bros fic, that one was like.. an in the middle thing. So yeah.

Warning(s): cursing, teenager stuff lol

Don’t forget to like, reblog, and follow if ya wanna see more! (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

-

Due to a teacher, the pack of Fairview knew about one of Frank's birthdays. On January 18th on a Thursday, the teacher for physics during roll call had briefly announced it when he called out James’s name. This information was quick to be relayed, since Joey was there in the class to hear Julie, Susie, and the other Frank, Fenik as his middle name goes.

Good on Fenik’s part for having a free period since he was quick to leave the school and hurried off to see about something simple to get his brother. Though... Any sort of gift or a word of cheer was met with hostility and retaliation. Of course, this worried the hell out of the three. Fenik only knew about what really happened and as to why his brother hated his own birthday a few days later when the raven-haired teen came stumbling to his brother’s home drunk off his ass and told the whole story.

Damn near broke the russet-haired Morrison’s heart at it...

Fast-forward to March. It was something about after valentine’s that Julie wondered about Fenik’s birthday, and had brought up this thought to his brother, Joey, and Susie. James was quick to be against it and said to drop it with a snap. He may not know what horrors his other half went through, but Fenik’s been the wolf the longest and had yet to ever snap. And he didn’t want to risk that. The last thing he honestly wanted (but never admitted) was for there to be a fight and for any of them to be hurt or worse, killed.

Of course, it brought on determination to mix with curiosity. Which was a bad mix when it comes to Julie since she went over to the russet-haired teen's foster home. Her last class was a free period, so it made it easy to get up and leave without really sticking around. Since it's most likely the couple has his papers upon fostering, it would have his date of birth on it.

"So... He's a May baby?"

"That's right. And on the first, no less," Audrey responded with a nod. A look crossed her face, then the woman turned to look at the young girl. "Do you think he wants to do anything for his birthday? With what he's been through, I think it would be nice."

Julie casted her eyes to the side, brown orbs focusing on a cross country trophy with a figure in a running position with the words '2nd Place: Fairview' engraved at the bottom.

"His brother says it would be a bad idea to do anything after what happened on his birthday."

"You mean, the other Frank? His half brother?"

"Mhm. He doesn't know what would happen if we do something for him. Though, I do agree since raven head threw a big fit on his birthday. Frank knows what happened, but hasn't told us."

Audrey nodded in understanding. Seeing as the two have the same father, of course, they would confide in each other. She does remember back in January that night when she went to check on the (unknowingly) wolf, that she saw the two in Fenik's bed. Amber eyes had looked over with a gesture for her to be silent. From what she could see of the passed-out teenager, was that he smelt of alcohol and just barely could see cheeks stained with tears.

"Then... How about a gift?"

That made Julie think. She wouldn't really know what he would want seeing as there's quite a bit he keeps to himself and or only shares with James. So she just shrugged. At least they have till May to think it over.

-

May 1st was only about a week away. The pack had about a full month to plan on what to do. Even though it was on a Wednesday, the weekend could be used up for the group. Despite his best efforts with telling them it's a bad idea, James caved and (reluctantly) agreed to help out to see what things caught his brother's eye.

So far, nothing. But, the raven-haired 19-year-old, on his first hunt, noticed something about the russet-haired teen. It was after they took down a moose, how Fenik managed to detach the head with a snap of the spine and the sickening ripping sound of flesh and muscles. James had... no idea how much blood was truly on the both of them till Fenik shifted back.

Blood covered his mouth and chin, running down his neck to his shirt under his jacket. And his hands were *drenched* from biting and attacking the moose. Back to the point, the black pelted wolf watched how the skin on the head was cut off with a knife the other had stowed away. It clicked that way. Bones/Skulls were of his interest with how he was careful with it and set it up against a tree.

"Whatcha doin' there fuzz butt?"

"Ideas are needed. Plus, gotta draw out your first hunting band! You're a Morrison, brother. And, maybe, if you'd like. A new skull. I'm thinkin' flesh hanging off the antlers."

"That's... bitchin. But, for another day. I'm cool with the band."

Fenik nodded, then finished what he was doing before shifting back and headed back over to his brother. It did surprise James when the rust-colored wolf took a big ol' bite out of the carcass and *swallowed* it down. He decided not to make a comment and tried it out himself. Weird how as a wolf the taste of raw meats doesn't taste so bad.

-

Since the days have gotten warmer with summer coming, clothes were lighter so no one overheated. At lunch, it was clear to the others how relaxed Fenik looked, not minding when his soon-to-be teammates from track & field would come over and pat him on the back to wish him a happy 19th and some even gave him 10 or 5 bucks (10 = about 8. 5 = about 4). He didn't mind *that* part one bit.

When school was out, the pack stood outside the steps as per usual. Well, except Joey till he did hop down the steps with a pretty big grin on his face. This made the two Morrisons and Julie look over with a raised brow.

"Somethin' up, Joe?"

"Yup! So, ya know how you told us you and raven head here went on his first hunt, yeah?"

Fenik nodded slowly, suspicious of what the tallest of their group was going on about. He heard his brother sigh in his head and go on about how he tried to tell them not to. "Yeaaaah?"

"And ya got all those tattoos n such, right?"

"Joey... What did you do."

The 18-year-old smiled and took off his backpack. Opening it, he withdrew a bag (that he most likely stashed in his locker) and handed it over. The russet-haired teen blinked as he took it, peaking in with amber eyes. Reaching in, he withdrew a box no bigger than the length of his forearm.

"A stick n poke?"

"Yeah! Well, we know that you do pretty well in art and that from some of the stuff you've shown us, you do all those dots that create really cool images."

"Stipple. That's what the media is called."

"Yeah, th-"

"JOEY YOU DIDN'T WAIT FOR ME!"

Susie came running down the steps with what looks like a book in her hand that she's waving about. Turns out the book was a sketchbook. At first, there was a slow build of concern and worry with how quiet he is, that is till they all felt a wave of sadness mixed with happiness. Hearing Fenik sniffle with a smile on his face was something.

"Sorry ah... I've.. never really celebrated my birthday. Always thought of it as bad since I was put in the system a day before my birthday. And.. all the others after that in every home, they just took the extra money I was supposed to get every May."

He ended it by muttering how the families thought it was bonus money. There were shared looks at that. Put in the system before turning 8. Ouch... James then leaned onto his brother's side, feeling him lean back. He isn't good with words, but as they say, actions speak louder than words.

After that exchange was done, the five all went home. Even after that day, Fenik was a bit snide on the fact that the other two didn't really get him anything. But, maybe Joey just had a higher knowledge? Though that didn't seem right, James did know about it as well.

The silence that followed didn't make any sense till Friday.

When the russet-haired teen got home, he was confused. One moment James hurried off to his house, then the next moment he was at the door of his house with his backpack.

"Bro, what the hell are you doin?"

"Waiting on you, and the others."

"Others?"

James just motioned for him to open the door, when he did, his parents were there waiting with bags of what he could tell is camping gear.

"Uh... What is going on?"

Mitch looked up upon hearing the teen and stood there proudly with a smile on his face as he gestured to the two big bags that hold two separate tents, rolled up sleeping bags, bags that probably have food and blankets, and other things.

"When was the last time you've been camping?"

"Uh... Six years ago? I think? Why?"

"We thought it would be nice to go down to the lake. Minnewanka to be exact," Audrey exclaimed with a smile. James let out a snort of a laugh from behind at the name, which the woman ignored before turning her attention to the people that walked up to the door.

"And we thought it would be nice to bring your friends and your brother! That's why they have their bags for the weekend."

Fenik turned his head to look over his shoulder to see Susie, Joey, and Julie there with what were their backpacks that were once full of school supplies, but now hold clothing. It took a moment for him to put the pieces together and his eyes widened.

"Wait, is this for my birthday?"

The six people in the room all smiled with nods of their heads. This made him get excited and rushed over to the stairs and his steps thundered as he ran up to his room. The raven-haired teen went up after the silence that followed after his other half left, wanting to avoid the awkward standing without knowing what to say.

-

The trip was long, but the weather made up for it. Susie, Joey, and Julie were in the backseat, mainly because the brothers insisted since they wanna sit in the truck bed. Honestly, the happiness that radiated from both was astounding considering the many shit foster homes they had.

It was Fenik who insisted that they howl out along the ride, mainly to be idiots in his excitement but, as far as he knows James probably hasn't tried to before. The sound though, was loud when conjoined from the two. Joey ended up sticking his head out to do it as well, Susie had turned down her hearing aid to make it easier to join in from her head coming out of the back window. Julie just chuckled with a roll of her eyes with Mitch and Audrey.

Upon getting there, a spot was reserved for them marked in outdoor safe spray paint. What was odd was how it was marked F.J. Fenik looked to the two adults, assuming it was a way to mark as him and Julie, that was till they looked at James with worried yet hopefully glances.

"We thought it would be nice to celebrate both your birthdays. From when I last saw you, James. You passed out in your brother's arms and looked like you've been crying."

There was a visible flinch from the raven-haired teen at that. He did remember getting drunk and stumbling to the other's home. He couldn't remember all that he said in his drunken stupor, but he did remember that he mentioned why he hates his own birthday. It clicked in his head right there and he stared at the two adults before muttering a low: "Why..."

"We may not know the reason why, and we know we were told to not do anything for you in the future but..."

"What the old bag is trying to say is, why not knock out two birds with one stone in the best way possible. At least y'all can go out and let all the crazies inside, out."

Green eyes sought out to hopefully lock with amber eyes, and they did, but it felt like there was a gentle coax in James's mind.

*'Ya might as well go with it. They ain't easy with "no" for an answer. But, they mean well. Honest.'*

The 19-year-old looked back at the two adults who were scolding each other from Mitch calling Audrey an 'old bag.' Looking down to the marker, he toed at it before letting out a sigh.

"Alright. But just this once. No more shit after it," He concluded. That caught the two's attention, but they nodded in understanding. For the rest of the time till dinner, they set up the two tents. One for the adults, the other for the teenagers. It was nice that a grill was there since hamburgers, salmon, and what other things they brought in cans were cooked.

It was Susie who declared that any gifts that were brought were to be given. She ended up giving Fenik a scarf she made, an infinity scarf that's a big circle. Course, he put that on. The one from Julie was... Questionable. It was a collar and a leash which promoted James to point and cackle like a mad man.

"AWW YOU GONNA TAKE YOUR WITTLE PUBBY OUT FOR WALKIES!!" He wheezed out, just howling with laughter before yelping when his brother had taken the leash and snapped it like what people do with belts. As a joke (they both know), the younger of the two chased after the eldest yelling about tying him up to a tree. The adults didn't get it, but the teenagers did and Joey fell down from wheezing so much.

When it all calmed down, Fenik yelped at a toy hitting his head and plopping onto the ground. A *squeaky* toy. He just glared at his brother who snickered, making the joke about the collar and leash worse. He muttered a 'thanks' to it before stopping at feeling something plush be placed on his head. He let it land in his lap to see a folded up plaid blanket, blue and red in color with its usual mixed colored squares when it comes to two colors. Thick in material too, meant to keep one warm.

*'It's not every night we get to run around the forest like some shitty dystopian forest novel, so I thought why not get something that'll ease ya when we're apart.'*

Fenik brought it up to his face to rub his face on it, but the fact that it was practically coated in James's scent honestly did bring him comfort that he kinda just... sat there with his face in it silently before lifting his face up with a smile on it. It was easy to tell that he's pleased about it.

-

Did they go night swimming? Yes. There was a bit of daylight left so it made swimming perfect for the teenagers as they did their best to not be so loud to disturb other sleeping campers. Of course they couldn't help the squeaks and yelps that were let out from falling in and water being splashed. Joey ended up calling it good and declared he's heading back to dry off and sleep. Susie followed after. Julie did as well, after wishing the both of them 'Happy Birthday' and kissing the both of them on the cheek.

It left the two Morrisons there on the shoreline, sitting there gazing out as the last bit of light faded and allowed for their eyes to adjust and adapt to the dark. Fenik went over to the lump that is his towel and unrolled it to pull out his newly acquired blanket, only to see a little box plop out. Confused, he picked it up as he headed over to his brother and sat down to drape the blanket over the both of them.

Before he could even ask, James nudged him to open it. He didn't press on but listened and ended up withdrawing a cord necklace tied around what looks like a tip of an antler. It was engraved too with what appears to be a half of a wolf face, but the lines were dyed green. That's when he noticed another one with the other half of the face and lines dyed red.

The raven-haired teen took both. The one with the red lines he put on around his neck, then fitted the one with the green lines around his brother's neck. A matching set, but the one the russet-haired one had was bigger, until it clicked as to why.

"Remember that box ya showed me of those pieces of bones you've collected or snapped off?" When Fenik nodded as a response, he kept going. "I took the tip from that moose we took down, then this one that I have from the deer you told me you hunted. So I thought, why the hell not?"

"And you made a matching set out of them... Thank you..."

James nodded with a half smile, then his eyes followed as his brother stood up. He did the same and shifted after Fenik did. Compared to the walking hellfire the rusted colored wolf is, he's a shadow with orbs to lure in those that are unsuspecting. Together, it was just two big overgrown dogs that caused chaos like puppies.

[letterboxd]

Beautiful Day: The Don Hertzfeldt Q&A.

In which the singular creator of It’s Such a Beautiful Day and the World of Tomorrow trilogy answers 57 questions put to him by the Letterboxd community, about death, gills, snacks, back flips, the best time of day to watch a movie, and the sick pleasure of emotionally destroying people.

Since his first animated outings in the 1990s, filmmaker Don Hertzfeldt has had a way of staring deeply into humanity’s soul via a humble stick figure, and his skill at blending existential questions with situational humor breeds intense reactions. To browse Letterboxd reviews of Hertzfeldt’s animated works is to meet film lovers at a rare, collective gathering point: heaping great piles of love for films that do “the exact opposite of helping with depression”.

There’s something optimistically anti-feel-good in Hertzfeldt’s works; a bleak view of the future, and a frank appreciation of death’s inevitability, that makes viewers urgently want to fix the way they’re living right now. “I’ve built a lot of my life philosophy on the messages of this film,” writes Misty, of his acclaimed It’s Such a Beautiful Day. “It has kicked my ass completely,” writes Dirk of the first, Oscar-nominated World of Tomorrow instalment, “making me angry at myself for letting trivial stuff take over things I love and making me happy I have so very, very much in my life to enjoy and be grateful for.”

The filmmaker’s magic lies as much in the process as the content: “Hertzfeldt is able to make every moment count,” writes Artpig, of the second WoT instalment, The Burden of Other People’s Thoughts, “every line of dialogue, every moment of silence, every note of music, every line of animation.” The World of Tomorrow films, says animation expert Toussaint Egan in our Letterboxd Show animation episode, are “some of the best science fiction films, period”.

And his timing. Oh, his timing. Just as the northern hemisphere days were turning cold, and the drawn-out misery of the pandemic was really taking hold all over again, Hertzfeldt tweeted:

WORLD OF TOMORROW EPISODE THREE everywhere october 9 5pm est 🚀

— don hertzfeldt (@donhertzfeldt)

October 8, 2020

And like that, World of Tomorrow Three: The Absent Destinations of David Prime was ours, an overnight gift to the quarantined and bereaved-weary, on Vimeo for all to rent or own. The gifts, they keep coming: a master list of movies that have their fingerprints on the World of Tomorrow universe, and now, in recognition of our community’s love for his films—and in his signature lower-case—the answers to questions asked in an exclusive Letterboxd Q&A.

To make things easier for Don, we grouped similar questions (and have noted which members asked what). Read on for more than you ever thought you might get to know about Hertzfeldt’s process, brain, heart and influences.

Filmmaker Don Hertzfeldt.

From “holograms that yell at you!” to the stunning colors, textures and folds of the blue mountains, to attributes David progressively deletes to make room for memories, would you please give us an insight into World of Tomorrow Three’s world-building process? —Letterboxd in the grand scheme of the series, episodes one and two still felt like baby steps to me. episode three was my first chance to really start blowing things up and exploring this universe. when i’m writing, i don’t want to worry about going over the top or think about structure or meaning or really much of anything yet. writing is playtime, it should be fun and messy. i want to go over the top. there is no top. i don’t want to start thinking too much until i’m rewriting and sorting through it all. thinking too much too soon can get in the way, like being too aware of when you’re trying to fall asleep. when you write a diary entry or a text to a friend, there’s no self-consciousness or creative blocks, you just write. it’s casual and fluid and automatic. but if you’re asked to write a term paper or a screenplay, suddenly all those lights turn off. it can be paralyzing. it’s hard to get to that place of truly not caring what anyone thinks and approach all forms of writing just as freely as writing those immediate thoughts in your diary. but that’s what i try to do.

When you start writing a new piece, do you usually start with a plot idea, a thematic idea, one uniform philosophical notion, or a little bit of each? —Kodiak J. Sanders, Trenz, Mr. Tables i don’t think i ever write in a straight line. i’ll jot down a hundred stray ideas over time, and one day i’ll sit down and see what connections might be made out of them. i really want this scene to be in the movie, so how do i get there? this is a good line, how can i get a character to say it? so the actual story usually only starts to reveal itself when i sit down to logic all these bits and pieces out. hey, in order to connect this strange idea to that strange idea, suddenly there is a very interesting third scene.

I’m astounded by how much the animation and the visuals improve with each instalment of World of Tomorrow. What have you done differently for each one? —Aske Lund, Cringetacular the characters needed to physically perform a lot more in episodes two and three so there were more demands put on the animation. when emily 4 dances or david staggers up a mountain, those sorts of scenes were animated in “ones”, which means doing 24 drawings per second versus my usual twelve. it’s still all 2D hand animation, just more of a classic disney approach that gives the movement a smoother look and a little more room for nuance. and obviously it takes a lot more work. but i hesitate to call such things improvements because i’m not sure i like the idea of different techniques being thought of as good or bad. it’s just another way of doing things. it really depends, sometimes super limited animation can be more effective.

Likewise, Part Three’s sound design is incredible. What conditions did you create it in, and what are all those sounds, and how do you have such an incredible command of the cut-to-silence trick?! —Letterboxd thanks, the sound design is always my favorite thing to do. other than julia’s lines, it’s easy to forget that all the animation starts with dead silence. obviously there’s no sound coming from a live-action set. so adding sound and music to everything, usually pretty late in production, is when all the stuff i’ve been working on suddenly starts to feel like an actual movie. this is not a future that works very well—particularly david’s, which predates everything else we’ve seen so far by a century or two—so you’re hearing a lot of creaky old hard drives booting up, electric distortions, and bent circuits from broken toys.

Emily and Emily Prime in a still from ‘World of Tomorrow’ (2015).

World of Tomorrow used to fill me with existential dread, but now with the current state of the world it’s become more and more comforting in a strange way. Do you feel that at all as you make new episodes? —mariano gg i wish that were possible but when i’m making something i’m usually so close to it i’m unable to see anything but all the things i need to fix.

Can you talk a little bit about sourcing the photo-realistic images for the backgrounds in Part Three? —Jack Moulton most of the environments were 2D images i built in photoshop, usually starting from close-up photos of different textures (like sandstone), all sort of reshaped and puzzle-pieced into something new. an easy to see example was david’s cockpit, which was cobbled together from all sorts of different old aircraft engine and machine parts. the trick in building and lighting these locations was always figuring out where the line was drawn in making these places realistic, but not too realistic for minimal characters to inhabit. i kept landing on a sort of painterly looking middle ground.

If the cloning process in World of Tomorrow existed right now, would you go through that process and create clones of yourself to prolong your life? —tim probably not, that process doesn’t seem to work so well.

If you were put into the world you’ve created, would you buy gills? —Lauren Torres i tend to avoid putting my head under because i almost always get water in my ears so i guess i wouldn’t need them. gills also seem like they’d be a real nuisance to keep clean.

What does love mean, and why do your characters go through so much effort to find it? —Andrew Michalko oh man.

In this year of years, what do you hope people will understand about death and its inevitability (or is it all there on the screen, and if so, that’s okay too)? —Letterboxd understanding death and its inevitability is maybe the most valuable thing a person can do for themselves.

Was the absence of Emily Prime in Part Three a practical decision [Don’s then-four-year-old niece Winona provided Emily’s voice] or an intentional departure from the first two films? —Michael it was both. i couldn’t find a way to fit her in naturally and i also felt like the series needed to start growing in other directions and not rest on the past. episode two had also been really difficult to write, it was so reliant on winona’s recordings, and it felt like the dam was really broken when i was finally able to write without any restrictions this time.

In a series like World of Tomorrow, where you headed in a direction that is a lot more plot-driven than your previous work, how far in advance do you plan? Did you always know this was in David’s past, or are these stories told one at a time? —Ryan Welch, Kodiak J. Sanders, julius, Alex Leon i could tell early on that this wasn’t a story like it’s such a beautiful day with a clear beginning, middle and end, but a much wilder thing that could continue to grow. the openness of it is still what makes it so interesting to me. i have all sorts of notes for the next episodes but if i already knew what would happen in episode nine i think that would take a lot of the air out of the tires and i’d start to feel like i was just connecting the boring dots. while writing, i’ve also had to be aware that there someday might be an episode nine so i can’t go wrecking the timelines before i get there.

What were the rocks and the gas pump that Emily fell in love with meant to represent? —Ekaneff she was learning how to love, and like all of us, in her youth she gravitated to a bunch of individuals that were wrong for her.

Aside from the ability to release more frequently, is there something about the episodic structure that you prefer/appreciate, as opposed to creating one larger feature-length film? —SiddFinch1 there’s just more freedom. the traditional running time of a feature film, 90 to 120 minutes, is a totally arbitrary number.

Have you ever considered writing a World of Tomorrow book or graphic novel? —Jay Smith the earliest ideas for world of tomorrow were sloshing around in a graphic novel called the end of the world that came out in 2013. but i don’t have any talent or much confidence in making another book like that. it’s a different world. when i look at someone like chris ware and then look at something like the end of the world, it’s like, “wow, baby made a mess”.

A page from Don Hertzfeldt’s graphic novel, ‘The End of the World’ (2013).

What attracted you to the unique style [of minimalist stick figures]? Is there a sense of intimacy that you feel you can achieve with this simplicity? —Evan Whitford when i was little, before i wanted to make movies i wanted to be a newspaper cartoonist. i think my drawings today might have more in common with newspaper comics than the sort of characters you usually see in animation. comic-strip panels were always composed in a very reserved way because they were generally intended to be skimmed. you needed to be able to read the strip in five seconds so you could be off to read the sports pages and obituaries. the comics pages were also under constant size and space restrictions. so they were minimal by design and the artists reduced their characters to only their most essential parts. there was no room for fussing. charles schulz said “i only draw what’s necessary”. and that’s actually incredibly hard to do. you’re accomplishing so much more with so much less.

i’ve also found that if there’s a scene that’s not playing right and bothering me, most of the time it’s because my composition was too cluttered. i almost always find myself removing things from the frame and trying to pare it down to only what’s necessary. very rarely do i ever think ‘i need to add more stuff in here’. because this shot is only five seconds long and i want you to be looking over here when this moment happens and this character says something, and if you’re distracted by this other flickering junk i put in the corner it’s going to throw everything off.

Animation-aside, which creative medium do you resonate with the most? —Bronkdan music.

How much did you pull from real-life experiences to make It’s Such A Beautiful Day, if any? What research did you conduct into memory? —Gunnar Sizemore, David Sigura, Micah Smith whenever i got a little stuck writing it’s such a beautiful day, i’d go back and reread my journal and pull more things out of it. dreams, conversations, small scenes. reading the journal now, it seems like i stole something from it every few pages. i also heavily researched neurological problems. it’s never said in the movie what exactly’s going on with bill, but i needed there to be a real diagnosis to base the medical writing on. so all the things he’s going through are real treatments or symptoms based on an actual condition. i didn’t want to ever come out and say, “he’s got terminal brain clouds”, or whatever in the movie, because then it becomes a “brain-cloud movie”, and that’s too easy for the audience to compartmentalize and distance themselves from… “brain clouds are so rare, that will never happen to me”. but not being told exactly what’s wrong with bill might help make the story more relatable and universal.

In what ways have you kept your mind fresh creatively? How do you keep yourself from slipping into complacency? —Watchmoviez, Drew’s reviews most creative blocks or stagnation come from anxiety, second-guessing and doubt. over the years i’ve learned to just sort of calm down and trust myself more. it’s like the old aesop fable: when you stop thrashing around in the water, the water becomes clearer and you can see more. if a scene isn’t working right, i can more easily chill out about it these days and trust that i’ll eventually figure it out—because i’ve figured these sorts of things out a hundred times before and i know by now that i’m not the sort of person who’s just going to allow a scene that isn’t working to remain in the movie. there’s a little more panic about that sort of thing when you’re young: “oh no, the movie sucks right now, will it always suck?!” i’ve reached the point where i know that i will not let it suck. and that sort of thinking allows all the movie gears to turn more easily.

Do you have a specific thematic, emotional or other miscellaneous motive in mind when including classical music pieces? —James Y. Lee when i’m listening to music and suddenly the right piece arrives, it’s usually blindingly obvious to me: there’s just no doubt this needs to be in the movie somehow. it’s like the idea has always existed and i’ve just finally uncovered it. it’s the same with writing. when the right thing floats along, it is striking and obvious and into the pile of notes it goes.

How much of your animation style lends itself to experimentation, such as discovering new tricks and pretty shots, that is then discarded if you learn it doesn’t work as intended? —Adam, Jacob i think i’m always experimenting. i figure if it doesn’t work, at least i’ve learned something.

What is the strangest compliment or critique you’ve gotten personally or of your work? —Elliot Taylor i’ve always remembered this one. i am so proud of you came out a couple years after everything will be ok. it was a continuation of that story, so it was basically the first time i had ever made a sequel. and everything will be ok had done really well when it came out. it won sundance and got all these great reviews. so i am so proud of you comes out and i remember reading this review that says, “everything will be ok was probably my favorite animated short of all time. it honestly changed my life. it was funny, sad, beautiful and just so wonderful. everything will be ok, boy did i love it. incredible. two thumbs up. truly, best thing ever. wow. so, unfortunately, its sequel, i am so proud of you, just feels like more of the same.”

A still image from ‘It’s Such a Beautiful Day’ (2012).

Are there any pieces of fiction that have influenced your work that we probably wouldn’t think of? —Gyani Wasp, Mikolaj Perzyna, Aaron McMillan, Harrison, Axel, Cringetacular, The25centman, Hunter Guidry one thing that pops to mind is the phantom tollbooth. my favorite children’s books were the ones with all the fun metaphors and clever wordplay. when i was plotting out episode two i wanted to lean into that, where visiting different sections of emily’s brain would be like milo visiting the land of math, the land of letters, the land of sound, with different looks and logic to it. so we had the bog of realism, glimmers of hope, broken memories, the logic center, and all the stuff in triangle land and square land. i guess that’s a lot but i wish there had been a bit more.

How did your friends and family respond to the “my anus is bleeding” part of Rejected? —Alex Tatterson they were pretty used to me by then.

Do you know of the work of David Firth, the internet animator? His work is also surreal and has dark humor, but more sinister than whimsical. Would you ever consider making an animation in the realm of horror in future? —KEVIИ HДWKIИS i’m afraid i don’t know him. i’d love to make a horror movie. from a certain point of view though maybe it could be argued that most everything i’ve made is a sort of horror movie?

My first tattoo is of Billy from Billy’s Balloon hanging from his ankle and it was the best decision I’ve ever made. How do you feel about people having your work tattooed and do you have any ink from other creatives that have meant something to you? —Elias it really fucking enrages me when people get my stuff tattooed on them. no just kidding. mostly i feel embarrassed but i’m glad you haven’t changed your mind about it yet. sometimes i wonder how many people have.

Have you ever thought about directing live action? —Abeer, Noah Thompson yes.

Is there an update on your feature film Antarctica? —Rylan California it’s one of many things swirling around.

Will you do a remake of Robocop and why not next year? —Simon no, because robocop is already sort of perfect.

Do you ever see yourself directing a large studio film? Or working with a large team to make something with a higher budget, maybe through a crowd-funded project? Or do you just strongly prefer working on your own? —Vteyshev, Monotone Duck sure. i’ve never preferred working on my own at all. it was usually just the only way to ever get anything made. i haven’t had the funding to pay a big crew, or really much of a crew at all. there’s the old saying: you can make something good, you can make it fast, and you can make it cheap, but you can only pick two. if you make it good and fast it won’t be cheap, if you make it cheap and fast it won’t be good, etc. so my only route in hoping to make something good and cheap has been to totally forget about making it fast.

What did you find digital animation added or took away from your work, and what did those changes do for your storytelling? Will you continue using the digital medium when/if you decide to move on from the World of Tomorrow project? —Alec Lai, Slipkornbizkit, Aldo digital just sped everything up. it’s still one person drawing everything, so we need to remember that speed is relative here, but i felt like i went from riding a bicycle to driving a car. there are many pleasant, wonderful things about riding a bicycle but you’re not going to get anywhere very quickly. and i’m not in my 20s anymore, in fact my 20s and 30s were mostly entirely devoured by making movies in what was maybe the slowest way possible. so these days i am appreciating the speed of digital.

If you could have a conversation with any filmmaker, dead or alive, who would it be and why? —ToBeHonest, Cringetacular if i could resurrect one of my heroes from the dead i think i would feel terrible wasting his time forcing him to have a conversation with me. he might also just sit there, covered with graveyard dirt, screaming in horror.

What is the best time of day to watch a movie? —Sammy night. i always feel a little nuts coming out of a movie and the sun is still up.

What’s your all-time favorite science-fiction film, and why? —Letterboxd 2001. because come on.

What is your favorite of Julia Potts’ films, and why? —Letterboxd i like the one with the severed foot.

Are there any animated films that you felt had a profound impact on you as a child? —Sprizzle probably fantasia. and ray harryhausen stuff. whenever there was a sunday-afternoon movie on TV, my brother and i learned that if in the opening titles there was a credit for “special effects” we should keep watching because we might eventually see something cool.

Which one of your movies is your personal favorite? —Jakob Böwer, RodrigoJerez i don’t know. sometimes it’s the newest one because it’s usually the one with the most experience behind it and therefore feels like it has the fewest mistakes. but then over time i realize they’re all riddled with mistakes. of the it’s such a beautiful day pieces, i think my favorite has always been i am so proud of you. and then i’ll see reviews that say “clearly the second chapter is the weakest one”, and i’ll think, man you guys don’t know what you’re talking about.

One of Don’s layout sketches for ‘I Am So Proud of You’ (2008).

What’s your favorite Pixar film? —Jordan inside out.

What film would you want to be the last one you watch before you die? —Gavin honestly if i’m in the process of dying i hope i won’t be watching movies at all.

Do you have faith in humanity? —Connor Kriechbaum not often.

What is something that worries you about where humankind is headed? —Felix_Bouchard social media.

What is the most valuable thing you have ever lost? How often do you think about it? —Siminup well now i’m getting sad.

Can you do a back flip, mister Don? —Doug maybe with the help of a catapult.

What is your take on the after life? What do you think happens to us when we die? —Luisdecoss i guess that it’s probably a lot like our memory of what the year 1823 was like.

Do you want anything from McDonald’s? —Andrew Rhyne only if i’m in an airport and desperate.

What’s your favorite meal or snack? —Pfitzerone, Evan lately in quarantine i’ve been discovering this particular breakfast burrito.

How’s your quarantine life, Don? —Ivan Arcena it’s okay thanks. eating lots of breakfast burritos.

Hi! I can’t believe you’re going to read this. I am currently filled with an unparalleled amount of joy, wow. This is a long shot but here I go. I’m 17 and your (self-proclaimed) biggest fan. I’ve seen It's Such a Beautiful Day eight times now and every single time I pick up on more details. I’ve watched a few of your interviews and in the AFS one about Rejected you said that the louder you play a movie, the funnier it is. On my seventh watch of It’s Such a Beautiful Day I hooked my laptop up to three huge speakers and I must say—you were so, so right. I made a video essay about the movie. Lol, I’m not sure if this will get to you but Michael Jordan once said something about missing shots or not taking shots or maybe about tequila, I am unsure but I know it was important. Thanks MJ. Not you, Mr Jackson. I’m sorry Ms. Jackson…

I actually do have a question, sorry about the rambling. Every single time I watch the guy at the payphone flip his pencil and go “fantastic, fantastic” I cry. And I think what really does it for me is that “we’ll finally have our day”. Earlier in the movie, Bill’s co-worker talks about how all of time is happening at once. So what I constantly ask myself is if the guy at the payphone is simultaneously having his day and waiting for it. And I’m no longer speaking to that one specific example or even to the movie as a whole but I guess I’m wondering if the idea of all events happening at once comforts you?

In Slaughterhouse Five, Kurt Vonnegut writes: “The most important thing I learned on Tralfamadore was that when a person dies he only appears to die. He is still very much alive in the past, so it is very silly for people to cry at his funeral. All moments past, present and future, always have existed, always will exist.” When I read this I immediately thought about your movie. I think the idea of all of time happening at once makes all of life feel less important but more special. You know? Anyway, I suppose I’d just like to know what inspired the lines about time in the office scene. This isn’t much of a question, more an incoherent ramble but thank you so, so much for all you’ve done. I feel so incredibly inspired and so deeply moved by your work and I know that so many people in this comment section and around the world would agree. I can’t believe I’ve been given the opportunity to ask something. It really is such a beautiful day. :) —Eli Osei (co-signed by Vooder) that old guy at the payphone was someone i saw at the laundromat once and he borrowed my pencil and the whole thing just played out like in the movie. i just thought it was such a perfect little scene that i’d just witnessed. anyway, the idea of time being a landscape and everything taking place “at once” just came straight out of a science magazine. i don’t know how, but apparently it’s been more or less proven to be true? we perceive time in one direction, but the past and the future are always all around us. think of it as though we’re driving our car through a landscape. even though the mountains we saw ten minutes ago are behind us now, it doesn’t mean those mountains have ceased to exist. they’ve only ceased to exist from our point of view. we’ve only just driven past them. the mountains, like your childhood, are still going on back there. anyway, i had never heard of that before and thought it needed to be in a movie.

A still from ‘World of Tomorrow Episode Two: The Burden of Other People’s Thoughts’ (2017).

Are you a fan of Kurt Vonnegut by any chance? It may be coincidental, but I love how you both utilize science-fiction settings and concepts like being “unstuck from time/memory” to explore the human condition. I feel his writing and your animation are both capable of making me laugh wholeheartedly one minute and weeping genuine, sorrowful tears the next. —Vooder i’m embarrassed to say i’ve never read him and i’m told on a regular basis that i should. that all started after i am so proud of you came out with those discussions about time being a landscape. but i almost only ever read non-fiction. it’s a long story. but now i’m almost afraid to ever read vonnegut after all these years of build-up.

Hey Don, this is really cool. I don’t have as much of a question, more of a comment. It’s Such A Beautiful Day has gotten me through a lot of hard times, being in middle school sucks, I think everyone knows that: and your movie has made life just a wee bit better for me. It also gave me the inspiration and motivation to finish my first feature! Thanks lots. Love from Indiana —Blood Mountain: Experimental Cinema <3 hey thank you. yeah middle school was pretty much the deepest pit of hell. there’s this old saying, “if you find yourself in hell, keep going”. and i’ve never understood that saying. “keep going”, because, i guess, you can always just go deeper into hell?

Hi! Has the vitreous humour in your eyes started to deteriorate and have you experienced floaters within your eyeballs? If not, that’s okay. Just remember it’s part of life, so don’t get scared when it happens! Just keep moving on! But if you do have them, follow-up question: Do you think it’s funny that the body of vitreous fluid that allows your sight to be clear is called the vitreous humour, and when it detaches it’s anything but humorous? I find that pretty humorous myself, in, like, an ironic way. —Clbert1 i actually blew a blood vessel in my eye a couple weeks ago and the whole thing turned bright blood red. it didn’t hurt or anything, i just walked into the room all disgusting and my girlfriend was like, “what the fuck?!” and then the next day i had further weird eye problems. i just went to the eye doctor yesterday. i think i will be fine but i was thinking, wouldn’t it be like the most heavy metal thing ever for my biography if i just suddenly went BLIND? “and then in 2020, HE WENT BLIND.”

Will Intro ever be released to the general public outside of theater screenings? —Melissa okay yes you’ve talked me into it. on that note, i noticed that the poster of intro used on letterboxd is a weird fake and i’m not sure where it came from. someone just used a picture from rejected. if fake posters are to be made i would prefer it if they used a picture from raiders of the lost ark or something.

Do you have plans to combine the World of Tomorrow shorts into one feature-length film à la It’s Such a Beautiful Day? —David Sigura, Sam Stewart, An_Person no, it’s going to be much longer than a feature-length.

Will we ever get a ‘Hertzfeldt 4K Collection’? Or at least a Blu-ray with It’s Such a Beautiful Day and all episodes of World of Tomorrow? —Teebin, HippityHoppity there is actually already a blu-ray for it’s such a beautiful day. up next we’ll do some sort of world of tomorrow blu-ray of the first three episodes. but 4k is too many k’s. you don’t need that many k’s.

Would you ever consider comprising an OST album of all the songs you used and mixed from your films? —PhiloDemon i don’t think so. i read that for many years cat stevens resisted releasing his original songs from harold and maude on any records because he thought they were more special if you could only ever hear them in the movie. i like that.

Do you get a sick kind of pleasure from emotionally destroying people with your movies? —MaxT26 yep.

What’s been your ongoing experience of the outpouring of joy and love of your work? —Henry gratitude. how sad for me if, after all this work, nobody was watching at all.

Related content

Don’s invaluable Twitter thread about “old-school animation camera stuff”

A Few of the Fingerprints on the World of Tomorrow Universe: a list of influences curated for Letterboxd by Don Hertzfeldt

Modest Heroes: the Letterboxd Showdown for indie animation

The Drawn Cinema: Analena’s list of rough animation, pencil textures, watercolor effects, dynamic brushes and other poetic artistry.

Beloved Indie Animation: a list by Gui

Animated Sci-Fi and Fantasy: an extensive list by Stonefolk

‘World of Tomorrow Three: The Absent Destinations of David Prime’ is available now through Bitter Films on Vimeo.