#i mostly draw wally stuff as practice

[sillyhoneybear23]

LOVE-SICK R.F

[chronicbeans]

Sibling Time! (A Wally Darling x GN Reader Short Story)

You are trying to babysit your little sibling, but it seems like an odd puppet keeps showing up in their favorite show, Sesame Street.

TW: Obsessive Behavior, TV Hijacking

Your parents are out, once again, so you are now forced to take care of your five year old step-sister, Mary. It's always been a bit difficult to connect with her, considering that you are an adult and she's a toddler, but you both have one thing in common: you both like puppets.

As such, you don't mind watching her favorite show, Sesame Street, with her. Even though you are more interested in the puppetry than the characters, like she is, it is still enough to keep you engaged. Even better, it gives you some time to go on your phone, and look up your most recent interest.

You found a weird website about some lost media. It's a show called Welcome Home, which people are trying to recover. They've gotten a lot of stuff recovered, too! Old advertisements, interviews, art... though, there have been strange happenings around the website. Odd links, hidden pages, even secret messages. It's intriguing.

"Lala lala lala lala Elmo's World!" "Look, (N/N)! Elmo!" Mary points at the screen, grinning widely. She bounces up and down with joy in her seat on the couch. You chuckle, nodding and shuffling in your seat next to her "Yes, it is! I wonder what he's got in store for today?" You look back to your phone, looking at the Welcome Home website. The picture of Wally Darling on the homepage seems a bit off. It is almost like his smile isn't as wide as before. You pay no mind, however, thinking that it might just be a glitch or update.

Suddenly, Mary taps your shoulder. You look down at her, raising an eyebrow at her frowning face. "Is something wrong?" She nods, pointing to the screen "A ghost is haunting Elmo's home!" "What?" "A ghost with big hair! Look!"

You look at the screen, shocked to see that it's... glitching? There is an array of brightly colored pixels covering the corners of the screen. The show seems to be playing, mostly, as normal with Elmo chatting away. You can tell what Mary thinks is a ghost, though, as you see it move.

It looks like a show, or more specifically, a character is bleeding through the broadcast. You can't see the colors, but you can see the outline as is distorts the picture on screen as it moves. Everything within its silhouette is pixelated. Usually, you would chalk it up to a broadcasting error, like the show accidentally playing two episodes at once. You've never seen this character in the show, though...

Is this a television hijacking?

You don't know, it you don't want Mary to wait and find out. Most TV hijackings are a bit unnerving, weird, or overall just not appropriate for young children to see. You pick up Mary, carrying her to her room and saying "I'll figure it out. For now, how about you go draw a picture for Elmo?" She nods, smiling nervously. "Okay! I'll draw the ghostie, too! Maybe the ghosties just needs a friend?" "Sure! You can draw the ghostie. Be sure to leave the ghostie a nice message, too!" You drop her off in her room, hand her some snacks, juice, paper and crayons. Then, you go back to the living room to investigate.

Your eyes widen at how distorted the screen has become. It's practically just static, now, with the faintest silhouette of a character. As you step a bit closer to the screen, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. You quickly take a peek at the website, seeing that the homepage has now definitely changed. Wally Darling is now completely gone. There isn't even a black silhouette or cut out of him. It's like he was never sitting on the rock in that picture. Same with the cast all sitting at the bottom. Wally just... disappeared. Even the little pixelated Wally is gone!

You look back to the TV as you hear music. Your brain begins to put two and two together. As insane as it sounds, the only explanation you can think of is that the disappearance of Wally on the website has to do with the TV's glitching. Why?

Wally Darling has now appeared, clear as day, on your television screen.

You quickly call your friend, holding the cellphone to your ear as he picks up. "Ed, I have no time for hello. Turn on your TV to Sesame Street!" "What? Why?" "I need to check something. Turn it on!" "Okay...?"

You stare at the screen as the yellow puppet waves at you. You hear the sounds of Sesame Street from the other end of the line. "(Y/N)... It's just Sesame Street. Why did you want me to do this?" You grow quiet, realizing that it must just be your TV that is being affected. "I'm sorry... I just uh... I just wanted to see if an error I'm having is just me. Thanks for helping, though! Goodbye!" You quickly hang up.

"Hello, neighbor! Where's Mary?" Wally looks around, standing in a void of silent static. His voice is a bit muffled, almost like he is talking through water. When he speaks, you can also hear the faintest sound of the Sesame Street episode continuing in the background. In the static, you can see a few, vaguely silhouetted hills and houses fading into sight. You can just barely make them out, however.

You cross your arms, immediately growing defensive and concerned at the mention of Mary's name. Yes, it could possibly be a different Mary... but as far as you know, this broadcast is only being shown to you. You can only assume that, whoever is showing you this, is talking about your sister. You take a step back, getting ready to go get your sister and leave the house. The person showing you this most likely can't see you at the moment, so you still have time to leave and call the police from a safer place-

"Neighbor, where are you going? Don't leave me! I'm spending so much energy trying to make this work!" He lurches forward, placing his hands against the screen. You even hear a sound similar to someone hitting glass as his hands hit the screen, like some sort of window. You flinch away, shocked. "I need this! I know I can trust you to bring me- us back!"

You tense up. This is strange. Now that you know he can see you, tell that you didn't say anything... you don't know what to do. You swallow thickly, saying "You... who are you?" His grin seems to, somehow, grow wider. "Don't you know who I am, neighbor? I'm Wally Darling!"

He leans against the screen, his pupils widening as he stares at you. "You really should know who I am... You look at me all the time! You read about me all the time, too!" In the background, the familiar buildings of the neighborhood fade in. Home, Barnaby's house, Frank's house... they're all there.

Wally spins happily, before saying "I want you to be the first viewer of our reboot, neighbor! I trust you to have a good eye for content... You take care of Mary so well, so you must be good at knowing what is right for children, these days." "Why me? Why not someone else?" "It MUST be you! It can't be anyone else! I have been carefully looking through each person to see who would be perfect for this!" "Okay... But I'm not getting Mary to watch it." "That's alright, neighbor."

He steps back, clearing his throat. Then, he puts on a winning smile as he says the opening line "Hello, neighbor! Welcome Home!"

[kaybl]

Wally himself (Sailor Wally)

The hat is behind his pompadour, and yeah, he is somewhat the captain, but in the end Home is the one controlling the boat, since home IS the boat, but they get along, so Home practically does everything Wally asks him to.

What else can I say about him? Maybe that he is focused on the care of sea animals and species, the main objective of the show itself is to spread awareness of the sea life and all types of things that can be found in oceans in a more kid friendly way (I'm not a professional at writting so this might have no consistency sometimes, if it does, pls let me know 😭😭, plus my way of writting sucks aaaozksknwns)

Sailor Wally likes blueberries

Sailor Wally sometimes groups the entire tripulation to have the dinner, it's now a daily routine for them all to gather together and have a lovely dinner 👍

Sailor Wally is basically the leader, but since he isn't... the most ideal one for the role, he mostly leaves Frank in charge, this is kind of a joke in the show, where Frank arguments about why he think that decision is correct, and Wally agrees with him, making everyone think Wally was the one who tought abt the idea first (idk if I explained it correctly I suck at English 🤓🤓)

Sailor likes talking with Home when he is alone, which is most of the time

Sailor doesn't have the :3 face, this is for artistic purposes n bc I don't like drawing the :3 face, if you want you can still draw him with the :3 face tho

I'm still writting abt the au so this may have at least some stuff that doesn't fit, so sorry if it does

SAILOR SPEAKS RUSHIAN AND GERMAN LMAO, for every Russian and german speaker, I will not understand anything u guys make him say, so pls do it, I won't even have the chance to translate it with Google translate, so go on, no one will judge you guys 🗿🗿🗿🗿 (this is incredibly random but yeah, that's right)

[nightytime]

ok so.

clown is allowing nsfw now and folks are losing their goddamn minds over it (esp on twitter, on both sides) and ngl it's kinda making not want to draw normal non-au wh art at all due to how big of a deal everyone's making it imo... like some ppl being like weird abt the 'way the posts was typed' and borderline babying him? (ofc that was only some, not all)

idk! i kinda wished clown didn't make this announcement mostly becuz it no matter what/how it was done was gonna cause a lot of flames... from ppl who think they know clown fr, the weirdos that were already disregarding boundaries, some that just hate nsfw period... etc idk!! i wish fandoms weren't this volatile about things but it seems fandom/communities nowadays are destined to be???? (that maybe my shitty memory at play or nostalgia or w/e but i dont remember this much stress back then?????)

so... i'm just gonna keep my doodle to myself for a bit till things cool down again (or clown makes another statement or something idk) which is a shame cuz i had some silly ideas for the lil switcharoo thing with an anxious barnaby reprimanding wally for not practicing good body mechanics...

and will I draw/post nsfw? probably still no? idk, i never wanted to draw that type of stuff for wh to begin with and ofc to respect clown. but idk for sure :shrug:

ANYWAY! i'm rambling now i'm just gonna draw other stuff and enjoy my weekend

[queenofcats17]

can we get a sick Snowflake fic?

Sure! 

Fair warning, this does get a bit sappy

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

Despite knowing that the toons could get sick, Wally was still caught off guard when Snowflake ended up catching a cold. After all, it was incredibly rare for the toons at the studio to get sick. Except for Bendy, of course, who often ended up making himself sick by working himself too hard. But that definitely wasn’t the sort of thing he expected from Snowflake.

And yet, it had happened all the same.

When he had gone to wake up his little demon, he’d found Snowflake curled up in a little ball under his blankets, sniffling and groaning.

“Hey, bud. What’s wrong?” Wally asked, sitting down on the edge of Snowflake’s bed.

“Don’t feel good…” Snowflake mumbled.

Wally frowned, worry already starting to build in his chest. “Don’t feel good how?”

“My head hurts,” Snowflake whimpered. “And my nose won’t stop running. Even though I don’t even have a nose!”

“Sounds like you’ve got a cold, buddy.” Wally patted the blanket lump.

“But I’m a toon!” Snowflake popped his head out of the blanket, looking distraught. “Toons can’t get sick!”

“Pretty sure that’s, unfortunately, not true.” Wally couldn’t help but laugh, patting Snowflake’s head again.

“I hate this!” Snowflake wailed, ducking back under the blanket.

“I know, I know.” Wally nodded sympathetically. “You want me to make you some soup? My ma has this really good soup she always made for me when I was sick.”

There was a pause before Snowflake’s head popped out of the blanket again. “…What kind of soup?”

Snowflake had been treated to some of Wally’s mother’s cooking before and had enjoyed it quite a bit. So the promise of more food with her influence was certainly enticing.

Wally couldn’t help but grin. “The kind with lots of meat and potatoes. That sound good?”

Snowflake nodded, his eyes going wide as he began to comically drool.

Wally chuckled, scooping Snowflake up in his little blanket cocoon. “C’mon. I’ll make ya some tea and you can watch me make the soup.”

“Okay.” Snowflake curled up, quite a bit more comfortable in his father’s arms.

Wally headed to the kitchen, but not before making a quick pitstop by the phone to tell Bendy he wouldn’t be in today. Bendy understood, of course.

“Take all the time you need,” Bendy had said. “Your kid’s important.”

From there, it was off to the kitchen. Wally settled Snowflake down in his little blanket cocoon on a chair at the kitchen table and began to get the ingredients out for the stew, while also putting the kettle on. He moved with a sort of practiced ease that one didn’t often see from him.

“You seem like you’ve done this a lot,” Snowflake sniffled, drawing his blanket tighter around him.

“Me and my big siblings had to help Ma take care of our little siblings when they got sick when we were all younger,” Wally explained, getting out a mug and a tea bag. “It probably prepared me pretty well for being a parent,” he added with a laugh.

Snowflake let out a little giggle as well, covering his face a bit. For all Wally’s goofiness, he was genuinely responsible and prepared when it came to taking care of a child. Wally’s grin widened at Snowflake’s giggle and he began to whistle through his teeth as the kettle whistled and he poured the water into the mug and set the mug down in front of Snowflake.

“Did you do other stuff with your siblings when they were sick?” Snowflake asked, shifting a bit so he could wrap his hands around the mug. “Read them stories and stuff?”

“We didn’t have a lotta books, so I told stories mostly,” Wally said, starting to cut up the potatoes. “Although, a lot of those stories were me tryin’ to remember stories I read or heard. They weren’t all that good, honestly.”

“It was probably just nice for them to hear you talk,” Snowflake mumbled into his blanket.

Wally paused, his whistling petering off as he allowed himself a small soft smile. “You really think my voice that is nice?” He asked.

“Mm-hm.” Snowflake nodded, sniffling loudly again and blowing on the tea. “Makes me feel safe.”

Wally’s breath hitched, and he had to stop to keep himself from cutting his fingers.

“Can I hear one of your stories?” Snowflake tried to take a sip of the tea, only to yelp when the water burned his tongue.

“Yeah, sure.”

The rest of the time spent making the stew was filled with Wally trying to remember and recount various stories he’d told his younger siblings. Some of it was him trying to recount various Shakespeare plays or fairytales or telling funny stories about his family and shenanigans they’d gotten up to. Snowflake didn’t really care about what Wally was actually saying, as he was finding it rather hard to pay attention and stay awake. What he really cared about was hearing his father talk.

It didn’t take long before he’d dozed off, feeling warm and content in his cocoon, soothed to sleep by Wally’s voice.

When Wally turned to inform Snowflake that the stew had to cook for a little, he found the little demon fast asleep. Wally chuckled and shook his head.

“Guess it’s back to bed with you, huh?” He said, more to himself than anything else. He picked Snowflake up and carried the little demon back to his bed before returning to the kitchen to finish the stew. He drank the tea he’d prepared for Snowflake himself, hoping it wouldn’t get him sick.

Snowflake woke up at various points throughout the day, with Wally providing stew and tea and tissues when needed. And stories, of course. This time, though, Wally read from books, doing over the top voices that made Snowflake devolve into giggles.

Snowflake was feeling much better the next day. Unfortunately, Wally was not.

“Shouldn’t have drank that tea…” He groaned as he hid under his own sheets.

Sammy, who had been called in to help take care of Wally, rolled his eyes at Wally’s dramatics. “Just eat your soup, Franks.”

“Say, ‘aaah’,” Snowflake instructed, holding out the spoon of stew.

Despite his dramatics, Wally complied, letting Snowflake feed him. He wasn’t about the disappoint the kid.

[thelittleredheadedmusician]

First Lines

So @klaineharmony @wordshakerofgallifrey and @radioactivepigeons ​all tagged me to do this so uh here it is. This is NOT including academic stuff. But it IS including original work. 

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag some lovely people!

Hitch Hiker - my book:

It’s raining, hard enough to hit the windshield in fat drops though he can still clearly see the wet road ahead. Oliver isn’t speeding, in high school he would’ve flown around the curves out of town. But now? Coming home and in bad weather? He manages to stay just below the speed limit. And a good thing too.

I don’t want to linger any longer - DCU, Batman, Green Arrow:

Alfred was leery of the summer camp. Bruce went to public school partially because of Martha's pointed remarks regarding democracy and public education, partly because of her pointed remarks regarding Thomas's own time at boarding schools and prep schools surrounded by equally rich and entitled boys. Alfred never said anything at the time, it wasn't his place, and would never say anything now but, he whole heartedly believed both. Especially after his own childhood in private schools, even if the times and the British and American systems were very different. Regardless, Bruce was remaining in public school with all the trials it entailed. Including the socializing problem.

untitled post final chapter short for Hitch Hiker:

“I’m so glad I get to be here for this,” Eve practically flung herself onto the couch, bouncing slightly before settling. She’d just gotten dropped off after rehearsal and was miraculously still teeming with energy.

Give Me the Stars - an original short story:

Morgan leaned closer to the mirror, shifting her hair so she could examine the new growth near her scalp. It was a dark, almost dull brown and the scalp itself didn’t seem red or irritated. She half combed her fingers through it while she shook her hand loose of the strands. Where the few centimeters of brown ended, a shifting cascade of colors began. A swirl or wave or reflection of green and blue and purple with notes of black and pink and sometimes silver. Like an oil slick made tangible. Except, after two months it’d lost its glimmer, its shine. Which didn’t really matter since Morgan spent about seventy percent of the time tucking it up under one hat or another.

glitter and gold - DCU:

She hadn’t been expecting the second explosion. None of them had been expecting the second explosion. Luckily, they were all clear of the debris but Steph’s ears were ringing. A gut feeling said her comm had been knocked out but it’s not like she’d be able to tell right now anyway. She swayed, unsteady. But Batgirl had to worry about the people around her, not herself. A cursory glance looked as though the block’s residents had gotten back far enough before the blast hit. Leaving them covered in dust but unharmed.

five phones on the table - DCU, Titans:

The long table with its numerous chairs was, by proximity to the kitchen, a dining table but due to the nature of the building it occupied doubled as a meeting and strategy table. The small net, paddles, and light plastic balls stored in an innocuous box in the kitchen meant it tripled as a ping pong table.

Adulting Fail - DCU, Titans, Nightwing:

“RICHARD JOHN GRAYSON,” Donna says and for an instant he wonders how a woman who has never met his mother can sound exactly like her. But then again, Donna has always been and will always be his older sister, never mind the fact neither are sure if it’s by three months or three thousand years.

Seventh Floor Walkup - DCU, Titans, Nightwing:

Dick may slightly regret asking his friends to help him move. See, he didn’t have the funds for real movers but had promised pizza if they helped. Except Roy and Garth could each eat a whole pizza, Donna could eat two, and Wally half a baker’s dozen. Which left Dick carrying eleven boxes of pizza to his seventh-floor walkup.

Et tu Brute - DCU, Flash, Batman:

“What the-?” Barry shifted his momentum with ease, turning from where he’d been running towards the Batcomputer and Bruce waiting there for him to instead run towards the metallic object low to the ground and glowing a dull green he’d spotted out of the corner of his eye.

you were shunned and burned your cradle - Newsies:

Being a changeling in New York City hurts. It makes his skin itch and his lungs burn and his eyes water. From the iron that surrounds him, fills the very air along with the smoke. If he’s not careful when he reaches out or brushes against something his skin comes away with a sharp, searing scar.

The Devil Wears What? - DCU, Hellblazer, Zatanna:

“What is this?” John slurred, arm flopping towards the television screen.

The Hattrick - DCU, Green Arrow, Hellblazer:

There is a strong possibility that Mia is in hell. It’d be vaguely poetic and certainly fitting if her personal hell were an empty warehouse. The fact John Constantine is here definitely sells the idea.

Inhouse House Party - Les Miserables: 

“I thought we agreed that we weren’t doing Halloween this year?” Enjolras half grumbled, half called up the steps. “In light of the fact that there is a global pandemic and we’ve been responsibly quarantining and social distancing this whole time.” Despite his complaints, he still fixed the ridiculous headband he wore as part of his costume. The halved wiffle ball glued onto it made pretty decent looking fly eyes, but the weight was weird and the whole thing kept slipping as a result.

Second Time is Coincidence - DCU, Green Arrow, Hellblazer:

“Oh c’mon,” Mia groaned, slumping against the bonds that currently had her suspended from the warehouse ceiling. “Not you again!”

Three Musketeers - DCU, Batfam:

Bristol was technically in Gotham City limits. Though the gilted mansions and private woods with pastures and stables seemed like a whole other world in comparison. The residents liked to think so too, especially because – despite Gotham’s robust public transportation system – it was almost impossible to reach the rich suburb from the city proper. It was because they lived in this separate world that Bristol’s wealthy residents often fought to receive special treatment or even secede from the city all together.

Deal? Deal. - DCU, Hellblazer, Zatanna:

“No,” John whined, drawing it out into about six syllables. He stretched his arm out, nearly falling off the couch in the process, but Zatanna just pushed the half-empty glass of whiskey further away from the edge of the coffee table and out of his reach.

Pumpkin Guts - Les Miserables:

There had been strange noises coming from the kitchen all afternoon. Combeferre was staunchly ignoring them because he’s trying to finish reading this journal article before anyone else came home. Having Courfeyrac in the vague direction of behind him and doing who knew what all is more than enough of a distraction. Besides, Ferre can fairly well ignore the sounds coupled with Courf’s slightly off-key humming of Nightmare Before Christmas.

Sunrise Shadows - DCU, Batgirl, Starman:

It was late, or early depending on your perspective, and Steph was that bone deep tired that came after a fight to save the fate of the world. Which was fine, they’d won, but she didn’t really know where in the world she was and Steph really just wanted to crawl into bed. Maybe take her suit off first. Possibly slap some Neosporin on her cuts and scrapes. But mostly sleep.

The Good Stuff - Newsies:

Kath pulled her favorite armchair into the doorway of her apartment. The antique wingback her friends had helped her liberate from a thrift store in Queens and then clean and reupholster. It was, undeniably, too heavy to be shoved across the hardwood like that but Kath wanted to be comfy. And there were the little felt things on the legs to protect her floor.

Salt and Iron - DCU, Batgirl: 

Steph pried her bedroom window open before slipping in and closing it firmly behind herself. Then locked it for good measure. Sure, she’d seen some weirdness since first putting on a mask, and just a few months into her time as Batgirl she’d even fought off some Segway riding vampires with Kara. But this was different. For one, they weren’t real vampires but Dracula from an old film brought to life. For another, it looked like literal hell had overtaken Gotham.

Well, I either have really long opening lines or my understanding of what constitutes opening “lines” is skewed. Also my formatting didn’t always past so poo on tumblr for that. Hmm, this is mostly Halloween fics but also fairly indicative of what I write which is nice. I like that I start with dialogue so often, it’s weirdly fitting for me as a person. The cold open musing on Gotham’s social, political, economic structure at Three Musketeers isn’t my favorite but I am obsessed with it. I think Second Time is Coincidence is my favorite because Mia’s response to John is the only response anyone should ever have to John Constantine. 

All of my friends have already been tagged~ 

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of wildfire relief, @peromy-march donated $10 and requested Gabriel/Kevin, fluff & tickling. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

After a 'dinner' that had consisted of half a Reese's cheesecake, a shared pint of coffee Haagen-Dazs, and three vodka-soaked mudslides, Kevin wonders if it's possible to be drunk on sugar. There are a lot of chemicals working on his body right now; it seems like it could be a thing. Or he's just drunk. Or he's just having a sugar high. It's all very hard to tell.

"Did you know you get very quiet when you're gestating a food baby?" Gabriel says.

"I don't think food babies gestate," Kevin says. He rolls his head to the side and Gabriel's watching him, clearly entertained. "They just, like… digest. You're not supposed to digest babies."

"Well, maybe you aren't," Gabriel says, and Kevin makes a face at him. He was probably supposed to make a face, judging by how much bigger Gabriel's grin gets. He walks into this stuff, all the time. It'd be more annoying if he hadn't just decided to give up. Gabriel's an archangel, and even if he seems to be an archangel of screwing around, he's just… always gonna win. Kevin's okay with it. Mostly. Except when his gut feels as sore as this.

"I think the ice cream was a bad idea," Kevin says.

"Now that is blasphemy," Gabriel says, sitting up. He executes a sloppy sign of the cross in the air above Kevin's prone body. "Say forty-two Hail Marys, get an exorcist. No, wait, don't get an exorcist, the ones you'd call are six foot twenty and absolutely no fun."

Kevin snorts, can't help it. Even that jostles his belly, though, and he groans, flopping over onto his side. "Seriously," he says, "I'm gonna pop."

Gabriel leans in, his chin on his hand. "Tell me before you do, sweetcheeks," he says, unrepentant and smiling. "I don't want any prophet goop in my hair."

Kevin sighs, cupping his sore tummy. Gabriel really ought to feel more guilty except that, according to Dean at least, archangels didn't understand the concept of guilt. That might be true—Sam hadn't rolled his eyes, like he usually did when Dean dropped an aphorism—but either way, Gabriel could at least fake it. All of this was his idea. It's not like it's Kevin's fault that he's lactose intolerant. When cheesecake came up, it wasn't Kevin's fault that he'd never had any. When Gabriel's eyes lit up and he said, strange harmonics in his voice, you haven't?, it wasn't Kevin's fault that he got whisked away on angel wings to some random grocery store, and saddled with a shopping basket, and ordered to follow an unimaginably powerful idiot around like a long-suffering servant. He'd been promised over and over that angel powers would somehow put the lactose intolerance at bay. It may have, but now he's got other problems.

A warm hand settles on his belly, above where he's protectively holding it. "Okay, kiddo, you gotta be straight with me," Gabriel says. Kevin squints at him with one eye. "Cheesecake. How did it measure up? In the scheme of things."

"It was good," Kevin admits. "But it's going to kill me. Then you guys are just going to have to find another prophet, okay. You can visit me in heaven but if I die because of dairy desserts, I quit."

Gabriel hums. "You know, that's fair," he says, and Kevin drops his eye closed again, and sinks into the bed.

He has no idea where they are. Sam and Dean are probably going nuts—well, mostly Dean. Kevin's meant to be working on the tablet, and Gabriel's supposed to be helping, and there are probably lives on the line. There are always lives on the line. Wherever Gabriel flew them to, it's cold outside, and the hotel they're in is kinda shabby but the bed's soft, and Kevin's warm, and tired, and… sore, but at least it's sore for this reason and not because he got the crap kicked out of him by demons, so. It could be worse.

The hand on his belly moves in a slow, soft circle. "Poor little guy," Gabriel says, quietly. "All tuckered out."

"I'm not a puppy," Kevin mumbles. The hand on his belly feels nice.

"Says the puppy," Gabriel says, and Kevin sighs but Gabriel's still petting his belly, and it's nice. Comforting. The bed shifts and then there's warmth at his back, and the hand starts a steady, oh-so-gentle massage. Soothing. He tips his head and there's a tiny tickle of breath at the back of his ear. A little laugh. The hand drags up to his chest, and down again, petting him practically through his t-shirt, and Kevin basically melts into the bed. All those mudslides, it feels easy to melt.

He's maneuvered, a little. He lets it happen. His head pillowed on a deceptively strong arm; his arms tucked up out of the way, in front of him. His shirt—disappeared?—but strange things happen around Gabriel and a disappearing shirt certainly wouldn't be the weirdest thing this week. Let alone today. Just means the warm, soothing tummy-rub he's getting feels all the more warm and soothing, and he tips his face into Gabriel's bicep, tangles his fingers into Gabriel's other hand. Soft squeeze, there, and then a squeeze low on his belly. He makes a little protesting sound and gets a tiny pinch, on his hip. "Be good," Gabriel says, and, duh, Kevin's always good.

He stays still, though. Doesn't object. Gabriel hums, some song Kevin doesn't know because he doesn't really know anything that's not in the Yo Yo Ma catalogue, and his hand slips from Kevin's belly to his back. Dexterous fingertips start tracing shapes over his bare skin and he shivers, at first, since it's so unexpected, but it feels—nice. A little ticklish, a little odd, but nice. Gabriel's voice is deeper than he would've thought, humming. The fingertips trace over his shoulderblades, his spine. His neck, bent forward, and that's sensitive, makes him shiver again. Gabriel's finger gets a little firmer—a poked dot, and another next to it, and then a dragged semi-circle below them—smiley face, traced into his back. He giggles.

"Hey, there he is," Gabriel says, and Kevin presses his smile into Gabriel's arm. Gabriel draws more shapes, featherlight, but Kevin can't tell what most of them are meant to be. One's a cat, he thinks, but for the rest, they could be enochian script or norse runes or penis drawings. Most likely the last, considering who he's with, but then every once in a while Gabriel shows depths. Well. One depth. At least a shallow ditch, sometimes.

"Hey, puppy," Gabriel whispers, against the back of his ear.

That's sensitive, too. Kevin huffs, sleepy. "What?"

"How's that tummy feeling?"

Oh. He kind of forgot, in how nice his back is feeling. He stretches out and sighs, feeling liquid. "Better," he says, and Gabriel says, "Good," and tangles his fingers around Kevin's, and then pinches his side, hard.

"Ah!" Kevin yelps. All those nerves jump and yelp with him. "Oh—you dick!"

"No idea what you're talking about," Gabriel says, and locks Kevin's hands in his unnaturally strong grip and then flutters the fingers of his other hand over the soft skin on Kevin's ribs, setting everything to twitching, making Kevin laugh helplessly.

"Stop it," he hiccups, but Gabriel hooks his leg over Kevin's too, trapping him completely on his side, and sets to work: tickling his ribs, his hip, goosing his butt, making Kevin jump and yelp and make just the dorkiest dumbest noises.

"You want me to stop?" Gabriel says, still pinching and tweaking and flickering his nails torturously light, and Kevin's shuddering but he chatters out, "If you d-don't I'm gonna pee the bed," and Gabriel says, completely delighted, "Oh, puppy," and in a quick flip Kevin's on his back, his hands pinned above his head and Gabriel straddling his hips, and Kevin's got tears in his eyes from laughing but he can still see the grin on Gabriel's face.

"You suck," Kevin manages, trying to catch his breath.

"Only my favorites," Gabriel says, and Kevin's probably flushed already but he knows he gets redder, because that's—jeez.

He's getting more of that steady amusement. He has no idea why Gabriel finds him—he doesn't even know if interesting is the word. He feels like a toy, a little bit. Something Gabriel like playing with. A puppy, he thinks, and he really is red, now, feels like his face is flaming from forehead to chest.

Fingers tap down the middle of his chest to his belly. He tenses, expecting more tickles, but Gabriel just flattens his hand there, where Kevin's still a little swollen from all the sugar but at least doesn't hurt. His eyes are so strange. Pretty, kind of. That strange color, like the bourbon Dean's always drinking, but in the lamplight in here they're basically gold. Kevin tugs his hands, asking, and Gabriel lets go, watching his face. Kevin licks his lips and touches Gabriel's thighs, carefully. He's still all dressed—jeans, and a t-shirt advertising something called Wally World, and a dark brown overshirt that Kevin wishes he'd take off. It's hard, though, to ask for that. Kevin doesn't even know what he wants, when it comes to that. But—Gabriel's weirdly entertained by him, and weirdly indulgent, and so he says, trying to sound confident, "Do that thing to my back again," and when Gabriel raises his eyebrows: "It—felt nice."

"Oh, he's demanding now, is he?" Gabriel says, and Kevin shrugs. He gets a sort of bow—hard to bow, when you're straddling someone, but Gabriel manages it—and a florid, goofy, "The prophet's wish is my command," and while he's still rolling his eyes Gabriel lifts higher, on his knees, and sets his hands on Kevin's waist. He gets flipped shockingly fast, right there so he's flat on his front, and his belly presses a little uncomfortably against the bed, but a pillow appears beneath him and he folds his arms around it, pressing his cheek down with a sigh. That's better. That's—perfect.

Gabriel resettles, his thighs on either side of Kevin's hips and his weight settled right on Kevin's ass. It feels… good. Kevin tries not think about it any more detail than that.

Light fingers settle on his shoulderblades, gently tickling, lighting the nerves under his skin. "Okay," Gabriel says, quietly, tracing unknown shapes across his back. "Operation cheesecake was a success, I'd say. Next time I kidnap you, we'll go cheese tasting."

Kevin's melting again, but he frowns at that, and turns his head to peek over his shoulder. "People go cheese-tasting?" he says, dubious. There's an affronted sound, and a mad light appears in Gabriel's eye. Kevin bites his tongue, too late. Well, shit. He's going to have to call Sam, somehow. Apparently work on the tablet won't be starting up again, right away.

[heller-obama]

Operation Newsboy

I totally didn’t have time to publish this last night or this morning so I just decided to post both this chapter and the next one tonight. Also I start school tomorrow so these might be the last of the regular updates.

Oh, and when I was writing this story, the POV kinda sorta just changed from third person to first person and??? I think it works better??? So yeah sorry about that I was not about to rewrite the whole first part in first person.

Here’s the prologue, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, and chapter four if you hadn’t read them

Chapter Five

Words: 2,086

Warnings: the author is a lazy little shit, no others really (just wait till the next chapter)

Editing: the usual grammarly and read-through combo

***#***

The day went on. No (possibly) magical time assassins trying to murder a kid. Nothing that special happened.

Except for the fact that I was really hungry. By the time all of the papers were sold, I was nearly swaying on my feet like I was tipsy.

I was standing with Davey, Les, and Jack, and the latter was trying to make plans for the brothers.

Honestly, I was completely spaced out, trying to figure out how to cover all the boys tomorrow during the strike. I overheard Jack’s voice, sounding slightly uncomfortable, surprised, and off-put. “Oh, youse got folks, huh?” I could tell he thought they were orphans.

Les, innocent Les, spoke next. “Doesn’t everyone?”

I saw Jack shift nervously, and Davey said something quietly to his little brother.

Davey looked at me and Jack, with something between pity and uncertainty. Of course, he thought I was an orphan because no one told him I wasn’t. Heck, I hadn’t told anyone anything, so I could say I never lied. I just omitted stuff that was semi-important.

“Our dad tangled with the delivery truck on the job. Messed up his leg bad, so they laid him off. That’s how come we had to find work.” Davey explained, with his specialty mixture of pity and uncertainty clear.

Jack looked uncomfortable, like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Oh, ye-yeah, that makes sense. To-too bad about your dad, though.”

Davey had that look in his eyes that I was sure Jack saw a lot: the oh-you’re-poor-lemme-help-you look. “Look, why don’t you come home with us for dinner? Both of you. Our folks’ll be happy to have you.”

“Mom’s a great cook!” Les blurted.

I wouldn’t have minded it at all, especially if it involved food, but Jack looked like a deer in headlights.

“Ah, thanks for the invite. But I-I just remembered, I got plans with a fella! He’s probably waitin’ on me right now.” He looked at me, and it was as if his entire body screamed HELP!

I, stupidly, wasn’t looking for anyone suspicious. The only few minutes out of the day I wasn’t looking…

“Is that the guy you’re meeting?” Les yelled.

I looked to where the kid was pointing, and my (empty) stomach plummeted. There was a suspicious-looking guy, slightly resembling a mean pitbull with a mustache who was out looking for blood.

“Kelly!” Pitbull growled. Well, that rules out some anonymous time assassin, at least, I thought. It’s just your friendly neighborhood…pitbull…thug.

Jack’s face turned to one of terror. “Run for it!” He said to me and the two brothers.

We ran, me trailing behind to protect the boys who were so important to history. Sure, they might’ve gotten away originally, but with two time travelers on the table, all bets were off.

We kept on it, ducking and dodging through streets and alleyways, the early evening punctured with the Pitbull’s distant calls of “This way, officer!”, “Get him!”, or the insanely common “Jack Kelly!”

Finally, after ducking through a back door, Wally found himself in what appeared to be the backstage of a theatre.

“Slow down, I think we lost them.” Jack heaved. Davey and Les looked totally out of breath as well. I wasn’t that out of breath, because of my speedster reasons, but I pretended not to be that out of breath as to not raise any red flags.

“Does someone want to tell me why I’m running?” Davey protested, glaring at me. “I got no one chasing me. Who was that guy, anyway?” I shrugged. I mean, I honestly didn’t know.

“That there was Snyder the Spider. A real sweetie,” Jack said, with a level of disgust he didn’t think was possible.

“I thought he was more of a pitbull,” I said. Les smiled, but Jack wasn’t having it.

“He runs a jail for underage kids called The Refuge. The more kids he brings in, the more the city pays him. The problem is, all of that money goes straight into his own pocket. Just do yourself a favor. Stay clear of him and The Refuge.” Jack looked almost haunted as well as disgusted, and I wondered if he had spent time there.

A lady walked by below us. “Hey, you up there! Shoo! No kids allowed in the theatre!” I thought we were busted before Jack spoke up, all hints of Snyder and his unpleasantness gone from his face.

“Not even me, Ms. Medda?” He called charmingly.

She put her hands on her hips. “Jack Kelly?”

“Yeah!”

“Man of mystery! Come down here and give me a hug!” She called, clearly happy to see Jack.

He ran down and gave the lady, Ms. Medda, a hug. I made a mental note that, when he wanted, Jack could be really charming, inspiring, or threatening, depending on the person. You did not want to be on any side but his good side. Jack kept talking to Ms. Medda, charming her.

“Boys!” Jack said. “May I present to you Ms. Medda Larkin, the greatest star on the Bowery today. She also owns the joint.”

“The only thing I own is the mortgage,” she joked.

When I turned around, I saw Les, bent over double, gaping at two of the dancers.

Davey tapped Les on the back. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Are you blind?” Les retorted. “She got no clothes on!”

I hid a smile. I mean, I knew that 1899 fashion was a bit--scratch that, a lot--more conservative than 2018 fashion, but little Les was just so dumbstruck at the fact that the ladies were wearing just leggings and some kind of leotard. Oh, God, I thought, if only he walked around in the 21st century for even an hour…

“That’s her costume.”

“But I can see her legs!” Les sounded like he’d never seen a lady’s leg before. Although, in all honesty, he probably hadn’t.

“Well, step out of his way so’s he can get a better look.” Ms. Medda said. The performers struck a pose, revealing more of the tight leggings. Ms. Medda continued to say something about theatre being educational, but I wasn’t really listening, making sure no one was watching us.

Suddenly, a man with a mustache came running in. “Ms. Medda! You’re on!” He shouted.

“I am?” Ms. Medda said. “How am I doing?” She looked at the mustache guy, and then scoffed, and then looked at us, and we started laughing. “Boys, lock the door and stay all night. You’re with Ms. Medda now.”

We followed her to the curtains, Les and Davey watching from behind the curtain, but Jack and I snagged two seats. Ms. Medda continued to sing about being rich, but I wasn’t paying much attention to the words. Again. Oh, us millennials and our attention spans, I thought jokingly. But it was because Ms. Medda had an amazing voice. When the song was over, Jack gave a standing ovation, and I did, too. I mean, she did hide us from the cops. Well, I guess they weren’t cops. Abusive prison wardens?

“And now, gents,” she called, “let’s have a big hand for the Bowery Beauties!”

“Hey, Wally,” Jack said, poking me. “Look who’s here.” He pointed up to what looked like a theatre balcony.

I looked up and saw a lady sitting inside. “Wasn’t that the girl you were hitting on earlier?”

“Oh, yeah.” He had a stupid grin on his face. He ran up to Ms. Medda, who was now off-stage. They conversed quietly, and then Jack ran up to the ladder to the little balcony and climbed in.

I couldn’t hear them, but as they talked, Jack’s face varied from cheeky to downright flirty, and the girl mostly looked either uncomfortable or mocking. I smiled. She’s gonna have fun with Jack, I thought.

I watched the two of them, not exactly sure how it was going to play out. Well, until the girl yelled: “Do you mind?”

Some guy in the audience rapped his cane on the structure. “Pipe down up there!”

“You got in for free!” Ms. Medda called. “At least pay attention!”

Jack whisper-shouted something down, probably something along the lines of I’m sorry.

And then he, of course, started serenading her. Of course, he did. And…was he drawing something, too? I shook my head. Jack Kelly, the romantic. Who’d have thunk?

The song went along…and so did my attention. I have issues, I thought.

When the song(both Jack’s and the ladies’) Jack snuck down the ladder, not before leaving something on a chair.

He practically skipped over to Davey, Les, and I. After the brothers left, on our way back to the Lodge, then he started to boast about his serenading epicness.

“Did’ya see that? I’s got her hooked!” Jack whooped.

“You sure did, pal,” I said. Suddenly, the smell of a bakery wafted into my nose. “Hey, Jack? What’s that smell?”

Jack grinned. “Oh, that’s the Cooks’. Yep, they’s called the Cooks and they cook. If you’re hungry”--I could’ve sworn he heard my stomach growling--“they sometimes gives us a loaf of bread.”

“Well, I think you know the answer to that question, Jack,” I said. I fingered the dollars I took from the Waverider before dragging Jack to the street. There was about $20, which was a lot in this era, especially for the newsies. It was for an emergency, but if this wasn’t, I didn’t know what would constitute an emergency anymore. Jack started moving into the store, but I put a hand out in front of him. “Lemme try. They don’t know me.”

Jack shrugged. “Have at ‘em.”

I walked into the store, slipping my cap into my bag. A newsie with 20 bucks would raise all kinds of alarms. I walked up to the front, where a young girl was sitting, looking quite bored.

“How can I help you today?” She asked, looking like I was the most interesting thing that had happened to her all day.

I looked behind her at the vast shelves of baked goods, breads and pastries galore. “Uh, can I have ten loaves of bread? And one of the pumpkin loaves?”

The girl’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “You got money to pay for it?”

“Yeah.” She gave me a once-over, like ‘why can this kid afford ten loaves of bread?’ Then she shrugged. Business was business.

“$2.50.” She said, gathering the load of loaves.

I pulled out some money and gave it to her.

I just really hoped she didn’t pay much attention to the dates on the bills.

She handed me the loaves, and I put each in my bag. “Thanks,” I said, and flashed a smile at the girl. She just nodded.

I walked outside to where Jack was waiting. He looked at me and only saw the emptiness of my hands.

“Ah, youse struck out, huh? Well, sometimes they’s just want the Jack…” He trailed off when I patted my bulging bag. “No way.”

I smirked. “Yes, way. Ten loaves of bread, and one pumpkin loaf.”

“How’d you…?”

“She just was begging for business. I don’t think they sold a thing all day.”

“Good on youse! We’s’ll eat good tonight!” Jack whooped, patting me on the back.

We walked back to the Lodge, Jack’s arm around my shoulder. By the time we got back, the sun was nearly set. As soon as we opened the door, the newsies were on us.

“Where were youse?”

“We’s been waitin’!”

“We’s thought Snyder got youse!”

Jack held up his hands, and they all quieted down. “Now, me and Speedy was busy.” He took my bag of bread from my hands. “Seems ol’ Speedy ‘ere has got a bit of charm!” The shouts rang out again.

“Is that bread?”

“WOAH!”

“Did’ya steal that?”

“FOOD!”

“A’IGHT!” Jack yelled. “All of youse get some! Obviously!”

Jack and I distributed the some of the bread to the newsies, and only after we finished did Jack take any. I assumed that was normal, knowing Jack.

The boys all got a large chunk of bread, and against Jack and I’s protests, the boys insisted we share a whole loaf.

That night, all of the newsboys at the Newsboy Lodging House went to bed with full stomachs.

I hope that doesn’t screw with the timeline.

You know what? Screw the timeline. Just seeing the joy on those kids’ faces when they realized they didn’t have to go to sleep hungry was enough.

[starbatwars]

yo-yo y'all its @Batmagines (LOWKEY FORGOT MY USER FOR A SEC) okay lets get started though. I'm 5'3(?) and I used to do gymnastics for six years but I had to quit in March, now I do cross country. I speak some German and I can kinda draw but at the same time I can't. I love to read and write OMLLLL, I have long curly/wavy dirty blonde hair and I'm hella pale. I LOVE NERDY STUFF BUT MOSTLY BATMAN STUFF, I have four dogs, and I literally just told you my life story but its lit.

Ok so Low-Key im gonig with dick grayson. Thank you vERY MUCH.

-Dick loves your hair so so much because of the color and the length. While your learning to speak some german he just plays with your hair and runs his hands through it

-Your both crackers ok

-Your pretty short comapred to dick since hes like 5′10 which means forehead kisses and tippy toe kissed.

-Dick also does gymnastistics so once he finds out you used to do it he gets super hype. He tries to get you to practice with him but your like “lol no”

-”Please babe come on”

-”Dick i like running leave”

-He supports you and the fact that you run. Him and wally are close friends so he finds it cool that you run idk why he just does.

-Your lover asks to speak german to him along. he finds it hot 

-Complement after complement for your drawings. He loves them so much 

-Reading is not his thing but he finds it cool when you write and he likes seeing what you write.

-Dogs dogs dogs oh my god. He loves your dogs so much but he loves you more

HOpe you enjoyed it! UBIJK IT SUCKED DAM

[queenofcats17]

Through Blood And Ink

So, @throughbloodandink opened up submissions for oc’s, and I submitted dear Cordelia. So I’m gonna write a thing of her in their universe. After Susie showing up in the newest update, I wanted to include it. 

There were a lot of things that scared Cordelia Bell. She wasn’t fond of spiders, she didn’t like being alone for long periods of time, and she was terrified of Joseph Drew. And unlike other things she was afraid of, she knew exactly why she needed to be afraid of Joey. She’d heard the stories from Wally about how the toons had come into the world, and she’d met Murray Hill once. She did not like Murray Hill. There was something...wrong with Murray Hill. She didn’t know what it was, but there was something wrong with him. He most definitely wasn’t human. He’d given her this look, she couldn’t explain what it had been, but it had chilled her to her bones. She’d sworn to herself that she would never find herself alone with that man ever again. 

Despite being absolutely terrified of her boss, Cordelia did enjoy her job immensely. She loved the people who populated Joey Drew Studios. They were like a second family to her. It was just her and her brother now, and having more people in her life was definitely good for her. She didn’t know everyone, of course, but those she did were absolutely lovely. She especially adored Sammy Lawrence. She might have had a little crush on him, but she kept everything professional during work hours. Sammy, at the very least, seemed to tolerate her. She wasn’t sure how he actually felt about her. 

For the most part, Cordelia operated by being as inoffensive as possible. A bad word about her fellow coworkers never passed her lips, save for when she knew she was alone or with someone who wouldn’t spread it around. Wally was good for that sort of thing. He knew how to keep a secret. Norman was nice too. He scared a lot of people, but Cordelia found him to be very sweet. Mostly because he reminded her of her brother. Both were tall, thin, and moved far more quietly than they should. 

“Bell!” Sammy leaned out of his office. “I need you to take these to Joey’s office!” He held out a stack of papers, presumably the previous day’s songs. 

“Yes, sir!” Cordelia had just gotten in and had already hung up her coat. She grabbed the papers and ran up to Joey’s office, humming to herself. She said hello to the other members of the studio as she passed, unable to keep herself from smiling. She really loved this place. However, her smile faded as she got closer to Joey’s office. She knew full well that Joey didn’t pay her a lot of attention due to her position, she was just an assistant, after all, practically a gofer, but she was still determined to do whatever she could to avoid drawing attention to herself. She was surprised to see a new face as she approached Sammy’s office. A beautiful woman being led by Bendy. 

“Hi, Miss Bell!” Bendy waved to her. 

“Hello, Bendy.” She smiled softly. 

“This is Cordelia.” Bendy turned back to the woman, pointing at Cordelia. “She’s Sammy’s assistant. She brings coffee and papers and stuff.”

“I’m Susie Campbell.” The woman held out her hand, which Cordelia fumbled to shake. “I’m a new voice actress!” A new voice actress? But they didn’t have any female characters. 

“I’m excited to work with you.” Cordelia put on a big smile. She’d have to talk to Wally about this. Maybe he would know something. Him or Norman. They saw and knew everything.

“Aren’t you just the cutest little thing!” Susie clapped her hands in front of her face. “Like a little doll!”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’m that cute.” Cordelia laughed nervously. 

“Yeah yeah, she’s adorable.” Bendy rolled his eyes. “Come on, we haven’t even seen anything yet!”

“I’ll see you later, Cordelia.” Susie waved to Cordelia as she was dragged away by the little demon. Cordelia laughed softly to herself, then turned back to Joey’s door. She walked up and knocked gently. 

“Mr. Drew? I have some papers from Mr. Lawrence.”

“Bring them in.” Joey’s voice came from within. Cordelia took a deep breath and opened the door. Joey had seated himself at his desk and was pulling out some paperwork. 

“I heard you talking with Miss Campbell in the hallway,” Joey said, not looking up. “What do you think of her?” 

“She seems like a delightful person.” She put the papers on his desk, fiddling with them that they were straight and orderly. It was a nervous tic of hers, organizing things. Joey regarded her with slightly narrowed eyes. 

“Is something wrong, Miss Bell?” He asked, his most reassuring smile surfacing. “You seem...nervous.”

“It’s nothing, sir, really.” Cordelia shook her head quickly, turning to walk away.

“Miss Bell.” Joey got up from his desk, smile sharpening. “If you have concerns, I’d rather you tell me.” Cordelia froze in the doorway.

“Well...” She turned around slowly. “I was just wondering who Miss Campbell is going to voice. We don’t have any female characters. That’s all.”

“Is that all?” Joey seemed to relax at this. “I wouldn’t worry about that, Miss Bell. I have a plan.”

“That’s good to hear, sir.” She nodded. “Do you have anything you need me to bring to Mr. Lawrence?” He went back to his desk and retrieved a few papers before handing them off to her. 

“Thank you, sir.” She dipped her head, hurrying out of the room with the papers clutched to her chest. She had a bad feeling about what was going to happen. But then again, she’d had bad feelings before and those hadn’t panned out. 

“You look nervous.” She jumped a little at Norman’s voice. As usual, he appeared from the shadows. 

“It’s nothing.” She assured him. Norman shrugged and walked away. It wasn’t his business to push her if she didn’t want to talk. But he was going to keep her nervousness in mind because it meant something was going on. Cordelia let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding in and hurried on.