#this art is old so it’s not very good looking to me anymore but it still makes me happy :)

[i-really-like-phrogs]

Re-design of my un-named Beetlejuice OC from back when I was thirteen

Original Reference under the cut:

[nagitoedit]

im trying to draw but i dont remember how.

[holytrickster]

sitting there like has my art gotten better over time or do I just add way too much unnecessary detail now

[kafus]

beginner’s guide to the indie web

“i miss the old internet” “we’ll never have websites like the ones from the 90s and early 2000s ever again” “i’m tired of social media but there’s nowhere to go”

HOLD ON!

personal websites and indie web development still very much exist! it may be out of the way to access and may not be the default internet experience anymore, but if you want to look and read through someone’s personally crafted site, or even make your own, you can still do it! here’s how:

use NEOCITIES! neocities has a built in search and browse tools to let you discover websites, and most importantly, lets you build your own website from scratch for free! (there are other ways to host websites for free, but neocities is a really good hub for beginners!)

need help getting started with coding your website? sadgrl online has a section on her website dedicated to providing resources for newbie webmasters!

HTML (HyperText Markup Language) and CSS (Cascading Style Sheets) are the core of what all websites are built on. many websites also use JS (JavaScript) to add interactive elements to their pages. w3schools is a useful directory of quick reference for pretty much every HTML/CSS/JS topic you can think of.

there is also this well written and lengthy guide on dragonfly cave that will put you step by step through the basics of HTML/CSS (what webpages are made from), if that’s your sort of thing!

stack overflow is every programmer’s hub for asking questions and getting help, so if you’re struggling with getting something to look how you want or can’t fix a bug, you may be able to get your answer here! you can even ask if no one’s asked the same question before.

websites like codepen and jsfiddle let you test HTML/CSS/JS in your browser as you tinker with small edits and bugfixing.

want to find indie websites outside the scope of neocities? use the search engine marginalia to find results you actually want that google won’t show you!

you can also use directory sites like yesterweb’s link section to find websites in all sorts of places.

if you are going to browse the indie web or make your own website, i also have some more personal tips as a webmaster myself (i am not an expert and i am just a small hobbyist, so take me with a grain of salt!)

if you are making your own site:

get expressive! truly make whatever you want! customize your corner of the internet to your heart’s content! you have left the constrains of social media where every page looks the same. you have no character limit, image limit, or design limit. want to make an entire page or even a whole website dedicated to your one niche interest that no one seems to be into but you? go for it! want to keep a public journal where you can express your thoughts without worry? do it! want to keep an art gallery that looks exactly how you want? heck yeah! you are free now! you will enjoy the indie web so much more if you actually use it for the things you can’t do on websites like twitter, instead of just using it as a carrd bio alternative or a place to dump nostalgic geocities gifs.

don’t overwhelm yourself! if you’ve never worked with HTML/CSS or JS before, it may look really intimidating. start slow, use some guides, and don’t bite off more than you can chew. even if your site doesn’t look how you want quite yet, be proud of your work! you’re learning a skill that most people don’t have or care to have, and that’s pretty cool.

keep a personal copy of your website downloaded to your computer and don’t just edit it on neocities (or your host of choice) and call it a day. if for some reason your host were to ever go down, you would lose all your hard work! and besides, by editing locally and offline, you can use editors like vscode (very robust) or notepad++ (on the simpler side), which have more features and is more intuitive than editing a site in-browser.

you can use ctrl+shift+i on most browsers to inspect the HTML/CSS and other components of the website you’re currently viewing. it’ll even notify you of errors! this is useful for bugfixing your own site if you have a problem, as well as looking at the code of sites you like and learning from it. don’t use this to steal other people’s code! it would be like art theft to just copy/paste an entire website layout. learn, don’t steal.

don’t hotlink images from other sites, unless the resource you’re taking from says it’s okay! it’s common courtesy to download images and host them on your own site instead of linking to someone else’s site to display them. by hotlinking, every time someone views your site, you’re taking up someone else’s bandwidth.

if you want to make your website easily editable in the future (or even for it to have multiple themes), you will find it useful to not use inline CSS (putting CSS in your HTML document, which holds your website’s content) and instead put it in a separate CSS file. this way, you can also use the same theme for multiple pages on your site by simply linking the CSS file to it. if this sounds overwhelming or foreign to you, don’t sweat it, but if you are interested in the difference between inline CSS and using separate stylesheets, w3schools has a useful, quick guide on the subject.

visit other people’s sites sometimes! you may gain new ideas or find links to more cool websites or resources just by browsing.

if you are browsing sites:

if the page you’re viewing has a guestbook or cbox and you enjoyed looking at the site, leave a comment! there is nothing better as a webmaster than for someone to take the time to even just say “love your site” in their guestbook.

that being said, if there’s something on a website you don’t like, simply move on to something else and don’t leave hate comments. this should be self explanatory, but it is really not the norm to start discourse in indie web spaces, and you will likely not even be responded to. it’s not worth it when you could be spending your time on stuff you love somewhere else.

take your time! indie web doesn’t prioritize fast content consumption the way social media does. you’ll get a lot more out of indie websites if you really read what’s in front of you, or take a little while to notice the details in someone’s art gallery instead of just moving on to the next thing. the person who put labor into presenting this information to you would also love to know that someone is truly looking and listening.

explore! by clicking links on a website, it’s easy to go down rabbitholes of more and more websites that you can get lost in for hours.

seeking out fansites or pages for the stuff you love is great and fulfilling, but reading someone’s site about a topic you’ve never even heard of before can be fun, too. i encourage you to branch out and really look for all the indie web has to offer.

i hope this post helps you get started with using and browsing the indie web! feel free to shoot me an ask if you have any questions or want any advice. <3

[charlotte-zophie]

Therapy conversation

Dear Fandom, dear Mr. Gaiman,

I hope this isn´t weird but i have something to confess.

Since I watched the second season of Good Omens, I've gone through so many phases that I barely recognize myself anymore.

My first reaction after episode 6 was shock, then I was disturbed because I didn't know that it was possible for a series to have such a strong influence on my psyche, I questioned myself and doubted my sanity. Then I was overcome by an incredible sadness and was really heartbroken. I felt like a pubescent teenager, in my mid-30s. I couldn't sleep properly for several days, had nightmares and my thoughts were with these two ineffable loving idiots the whole time.

And the worst thing about it was that for the first few days I was really ashamed to admit to myself and my husband that I was completely and hopelessly immersed in this world. I did nothing but watch videos, listen to sad songs, and read heartbreaking fanfictions for days. And of course I read the book again and watched the series over and over again. All in the hope that it will ease my heartache a little.

But as is often the case in these situations, after a few days in which no real change occurs, you have the thought that you will be lost in this feeling forever. But since I have 3 children that I need to look after, of course locking myself away for weeks with heartbreak wasn't an option, so I had to find an outlet for myself to channel my pain.

So I started painting a picture. By Aziraphale and Crowley. And stroke by stroke I let my feelings flow out of me and into the picture.

It took over a week until I had a motif in which I could see my thoughts and feelings expressed and then it took another week until I finished the picture. On an old canvas with paints that haven't been used for a long time, with many, many layers of old paint underneath.

But when the picture was finally finished, it really took a load off my mind. It was like I had broken a dam and was finally able to let it all out and convert it into creative energy.

But I think the most important thing was that I uploaded the picture to Tumblr and received such a response that I was incredibly touched and immediately motivated to paint more pictures.

Since that day, hardly a moment goes by when I am not holding a pen in my hand or not thinking about a new picture. I'm in one of the most creative phases in a very long time and I'm really enjoying it.

I am so grateful for the wonderful people here! Here I see that I'm not alone with my strange feelings that I still don't really know how to classify. Here I read thoughts that are so similar to mine, here I see works of art that melt my heart, here I feel understood!

And I am so grateful for the pain that showed me the way back to my creative energy!

Thank you Fandom!

Thank you Neil Gaiman!

I would have been lost without you!

Because I don't know my way around here very well, I didn't think about pinning the picture in question as a link when I created this post, but since many people have asked about it, I've pinned it here. Thank you all, love love love

[porcelana-r0ta]

let the mourners come

Title: let the mourners come

Ao3 Link: Only available to Ao3 users

Word Count: 3045

Summary:

It started, as most things do with Danny Fenton, as a joke.

It ended, as most things do with Jazz Fenton, with things better than they were before.

xxXxx

When Danny finally gets a Twitter, it’s during Elon Musk’s shit show takeover. He’s able to secure a good Twitter handle thanks to people leaving en masse and fleeing to Tumblr. He knows about things that happen outside of Amity Park (he is terminally online rather than chronically, after all), but he still doesn’t think anything of using @TheJoker as his handle, even knowing about Gotham City’s clown troubles. It’s just going to be a shitpost account, anyway, one that dances in the chaos of Elon’s electronic graveyard. Nothing will come about him using @TheJoker when he’s merely posting things like, “Just grew a new row of teeth!!! very pointy but can’t go to the dentist anymore bc they might turn me in to the giw.”

So Danny honestly never foresaw The Actual Real Joker breaking out of Arkham Asylum all the way in Gotham City, New Jersey, and deciding to get a Twitter account to terrorize people online as well as offline. And he definitely never foresaw The Joker @’ing him on Twitter, demanding that Danny change his Twitter handle. But, well. Here he was. 

[Image Description: A screenshot of a Twitter reply chain, starting with the real Joker @'ing Danny's Twitter account, which uses TheJoker as his Twitter handle. The Joker, who has a verified account, demands that Danny "change your handle", and Danny replies with a simple "no" followed by red heart emoji. The Joker Tweets, "Kid you don't know who you're fucking with," to which Danny replies, "Ye I do ur some dude w/ poor fashion sense and lame jokes. Maybe try badjokesbyjeff bc originality is ugly on u" followed by a shrugging emoticon. The Joker responds, "Check your DMs." Danny then responds, "Perf [happy emoji surrounded by hearts] I've sent you a time and place. Can't wait to beat the shit out of another disgrace of a clown." Someone with the username "Gregg rulz ok" responds to Danny's last Tweet, "Bro is absolutely RATIOING the joker but the clown keeps responding [three skull emojis] embarrassing frfr too bad he's gonna die for realsies".

End ID]

Danny is quick to respond and then makes even quicker work of roasting The Joker. This soon results in The Joker DMing him his IP Address and a creative threat. Still, Danny isn’t about to cow to a clown with no respect for the art of clowning. He replies to the DM: 

Cool, meet me at the Nasty Burger parking lot in Amity Park IL on tuesday at 2am

The response from The Joker is quick:

Fourteen year olds are too confident these days

Danny rolls his eyes and ignores the influx of notifications from Twitter, and instead makes another Tweet.

Imagine beefing with someone over a Twitter handle lol acc so embarrassing for him

He blackens his screen and stretches in bed, letting his spine pop more than what is humanly possible. He runs his tongue over that second row of teeth, his lips curling into a grin. 

xxXxx

Gothamite Twitter is blowing up over The Joker’s social media beef with a faceless shitposting account. Jason, upon finding out about it, has a series of reactions: first, he looks up the shitposter and follows them. Then, he finds the actual chain between the poster and The Joker, and his vision goes vibrant green when he sees that The Joker’s profile picture is of the second Robin, beaten and swollen in an abandoned building in Ethiopia. 

When his vision clears and he can breathe without wanting to kill, he likes the shitposter’s replies, and he calls the Replacement to see if the other Bats know already.

“We know,” Tim says in lieu of a hello when the ringing cuts out. “We’re working on it.”

“What, you think anything’s gonna come of it?” But even as Jason asks, he already knows the answer. The Joker is unhinged and once he’s threatened something, he’ll follow up unless he comes up with a “funnier” option. 

Tim’s breath hitches, and he says, “I’ve hacked their DMs. Joker knows the kid’s IP address and sent it to him. He knows everything from that address alone.”

He pauses in the middle of suiting up, “Kid?”

He hears Tim swallow, “Yes, kid. He’s fifteen. And he gave The Joker a specific time and place to meet up to fight. In his own hometown.”

“Are— are you fucking kidding me?” 

“No. B is already calling Nightwing. We’re taking the Batwing to Illinois.”

“Jesus fuck. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Hood, I—”

“Shut up, I’m already in my gear.” He hangs up without waiting for a response. 

He refreshes the Twitter feed and barks a laugh at the newest Tweet:

Jason Todd votes, and the Red Hood leaves his safe house. 

xxXxx

A commercial flight to Illinois takes around two and a half hours. In the Batwing, they get there in an hour, and don’t even have to worry about the drive from Chicago to a small speck of a town like Amity Park. They spend the quick flight learning everything they can about Daniel James Fenton, the owner of the Twitter account, and they can all sense the growing tension from (and between) Bruce and Jason.

But, well. Jason doesn’t care. Let them be uncomfortable. It doesn’t compare to being ripped back into life and finding out his dad didn’t even get justice for his death. 

When they reach town, it doesn’t take long to find the Fentons’ home. This is in part because Amity Park is a very navigable town, and because of the giant neon sign proclaiming FentonWorks on the side of the building. 

“Is that a blimp?” Dick asks. “Why don’t we have a blimp?” 

“Where would we keep it?” the Demon Brat counters practically. “Goliath takes up all of the Cave’s extra space.” 

Jason rolls his eyes and knows veins would be popping out of Bruce’s forehead if it weren’t for the cowl. 

“Let’s go,” Bruce says instead, and they all make their way to the house. 

Nightwing, predictably, goes for the front door approach. Jason rolls his eyes as he takes one of the second-story windows and finds his way downstairs.

He gets down at the same time that a redheaded girl answers the door and nearly slams it in Dick’s face. Jason has to suppress snickers at the sight. 

“Wait, wait, wait, are you Jazz Fenton? We need to talk to your brother!” 

“...We?” she asks, then tenses and turns around to see the rest of the Bats in the hall behind her. Dick takes the opportunity to step in completely, closing the door behind him. “Wha— what’s going on?”

“Where are your parents, Jazz?” Bruce makes every question sound like a demand. Jason rolls his eyes from behind his mask—way to put the teenager at ease, B.

“Why do you need to know?” Her voice has a defensive edge to it. “What do you want with Danny?” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Nightwing comforts. “He didn’t do anything too bad, just said some dumb things online. It’s not his fault.” 

This relaxes her, and her shoulders begin un-hunching. “Oh, s-so what’d he do?”

“He foolishly challenged The Joker to a battle in a ‘Nasty Burger’ parking lot tonight.” 

“You could’ve had some more tact, Robin,” Nightwing scolds. But the Demon Spawn just crosses his arms. 

“He did what?” Jazz shrieks. “Like, The Joker from Gotham? That Joker?”

“Are there others?” Red Hood comments dryly. 

Her face goes through several different emotions—disbelief, rage, fear, and then rage again, “DANIEL JAMES FENTON! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!” 

There’s a thumping noise, and then frantic footsteps down the stairs. 

“Wha? Who died?” asks the figure of a tiny fifteen-year-old, smaller than even Jason had been when he was alone with The Joker. He’s tiny and lanky. Zero muscle definition. Eye bags to rival the Replacement’s. Something ripples in the Pit, deep and distinct, but he can’t name what causes it.

Oh, this kid is so dead. 

“Danny,” says Jazz calmly while Danny blinks uncomprehendingly at the heroes in their hallway. She is solemn when she says, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to kill you now.” 

“What did I do?” 

She stares at him, “Why have you scheduled a fight with The Joker?” 

“Oh, that.” He rubs the back of his neck, “Is he taking that seriously?”

“Of course he is, Danny! It’s The Joker! That’s what he does! He can’t differentiate between a joke and reality! He would tear off his own face for the bit!” 

“Oof,” is all Danny can muster. He digs his phone out and starts typing before Jazz yanks it out his hand. 

“You’re fucking TWEETING about this?” Jazz asks incredulously, and Hood’s hackles rise. She even reads the Tweet aloud, “‘Just found out @TheJ0ker is being fr about fighting me. Sad but i can take a clown.’”

“I was gonna add ‘i’ve done it b4,’ but like the letter and the number four. But yeah.” 

“You’re grounded forever.” Danny opens his mouth to protest, but the look Jazz cuts at him is so scathing that he shuts his mouth. Hood is reluctantly impressed—she had what could be cultivated into a fantastic Batglare. She pockets the phone, “You’re never getting this phone back. Taunting The Joker to Amity? Have you any brain cells? What if he brings Joker gas with him, huh? Or any of his goons? What if he starts hurting other people? Have you thought any of this through?” 

Danny’s face goes from tired to chastised, his lips drawing into a frown, especially at the mention of other people. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think that he’d take it so seriously.”

“He sent you your IP Address.”

“I thought that was just a random string of numbers?”

“Oh my god,” Jazz despairs. “Oh my god. Grounded forever. See, I know you're lying to me. I know you're lying because Tucker, the nerdiest tech nerd to have ever been born, is your best friend.”

He rubs the back of his neck, “I tune him out?”

“You’re still lying to me?” Jazz scoffs and turns to Batman, “Do whatever you want with him. I’m not going to defend him from this.” 

“Hey!” complained her brother, but Batman just continued on, “Where are your parents?”

“They’re in Sweden for a science convention,” Jazz answers. “They left this morning.” 

Damn, Jason curses to himself. 

“Jazz, seriously. You’re not gonna let Batman kill me, right?” 

“Do you want to be cremated or buried, Danny?” Jazz asks blasély, and Danny gulps, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. 

“It’s my Twitter handle,” he mutters petulantly, and Jason can’t believe the gall of this kid. Or maybe stupidity. Audacity’s a good one, too. “If he wanted it, he should’ve gotten it first. And he gives clowns a bad name.” 

“Not the clown thing again.” Jazz digs her palms into her eyes, sighs, then turns to the heroes. “He has a whole clown thing ever since Circus Gothica came to town and robbed a bunch of jewelry stores.” 

Danny gestures wildly with his hands, as if demonizing clowns was the real problem and not the egomaniacal mass murderer who wanted to murder him for his Twitter handle, “Clowning is an art form, Jazz, and people like Freakshow and The Joker make a mockery of the very serious societal statements that clowns make!” 

All of the Bats very carefully Did Not look at Nightwing, who has made very similar rants on quiet patrols.

“You are never leaving this house again,” she says serenely. “And I’m unplugging the wifi router.”

“You would punish even yourself?”

“Oh, little brother. I would watch the world burn if it meant knocking sense into your thick skull.” 

“Okay, Christ,” Red Hood finally interrupted the siblings’ melodrama. An unyielding redheaded girl and a mouthy black-haired, blue-eyed boy? They’d fit in a little too well back at the Manor, so Jason needs to cut this shit out before Bruce’s bat-doption instincts start tingling. “Stop. Just… Christ. Stop. Is this how you always interact with each other?”

“Sometimes there’s explosions,” Danny pipes up, a cheeky grin on his face. 

Jazz doesn’t dispute it. 

Fucking hell. God damn it. I can’t. I just can’t. 

Batman doesn’t give anything away, “Robin and Red Robin will be staying here with you until Nightwing, Hood, and I apprehend The Joker. First, we’re going to check the perimeter.” 

“Oooh, I get to give the lab tour!” 

Lab?

“No lab. You’re grounded. You’ll only be in there for cleaning duty now.”

“Wh– hey! No fair!” 

“What’s this lab you two are talking about?” Red Robin asks before Jazz can rip into her brother again. 

She sighs, “Our parents’ lab. I’ll show you, but someone needs to stay with Danny.” 

“You act like I’m gonna run off and start World War III….”

“I wonder why,” she says sarcastically.

Batman nods to Robin, who nods back, and the rest of them follow Jazz out of the living room to a metal reinforced door. She types in a code—Jason catches the numbers 03-14-99. There’s an assenting beep, and she opens the door, flicking on the lights and leading them down into what is apparently a basement lab. 

A stone settles in Red Hood’s stomach, cold and heavy. 

The basement is large, likely the floor size of the entire building. There are several work tables, filled with miscellaneous blueprints and spare parts and weapons and tools. Against the farthest wall is another armored door, but what draws Hood’s—and the entire Batclan’s—attention is the south wall, where a circular hole in the wall was glowing a toxic Pit green. 

The stone shattered in his stomach, splintering into his body. Is it harder or easier to breathe? Jason can’t tell. 

“Wow,” says Nightwing. His voice is cheerful, but Jason can feel the stress beneath it. “Do I even want to know?” 

Wasn’t this supposed to just be typical Joker bullshit?

“Our parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz explains nonchalantly, walking further into the lab. “As in, ghost biologists.” She pauses at one of the work tables, picking up a green and white thermos. Pretty boring, considering the rest of their surroundings. 

“Ghosts.” Red Robin’s voice is carefully neutral. 

“Ghosts,” Jazz reaffirms. “I know. I thought they were crazy at first, too. But I can prove it, if you like.” Then, without waiting for a yes or no, she untwists the thermos, and there’s a bright flash of white, and a whole entire body sprouting out of it. 

“WHOO! I’M FREE!” cries the…being, pale and floating and lanky and entirely too big to have fit into a fucking thermos, of all the fucking things. “....And not in the Realms? Wait.” He stops stretching, descending to rest closer to the ground, but still hovering a few inches from the floor. He’s got green eyes and lifeless (ha) blond hair. He’s wearing a trenchcoat and a green skull necklace. Overall, he looks like the type of thug he’d arrest in the Bowery. 

“Hello, Johnny.” The man’s—ghost’s?—eyes flicker around each person in the room, his gaze becoming more and more confused and panicked as he takes in each Bat, before settling on Jazz Fenton. 

“Why are the fucking Bats here?” 

“The Joker’s coming to Amity,” she says. The ghost’s eyes widen. Jazz tilts her head, “How many ghosts would you say passed away in Gotham, Johnny?” 

As Jason and the Bats tense, this Johnny guy lets out a wicked laugh, “Oh, Doll, you have the best surprises. Why did we break up?” 

“You did try to have my body possessed. That ruins any good relationship.” 

“Man, but Kitty’ll love this. Thanks for letting me out of Soup Time, Doll.” He floats higher, “Any advice?” 

She throws him the phone she’d confiscated from Danny and he catches it easily, “Everything’s on here. Have fun.”

“What exactly are you planning?” Batman scowls. 

Johnny laughs, “Aww, don’t worry, Bats. Peace and love on Planet Earth, or whatever. We’ll make it quick.” Then, as the Bats leap into action as one, Johnny turns invisible, the Batarangs passing harmlessly through where he’d once been floating. 

“Where did he go?” Batman turns his scowl, angrier than ever, to Jazmin Fenton, who stares back unflinchingly. “He’s going to solve the problem.”

“You mean he’s going to kill The Joker.”

She shakes her head, “Oh, no. That’d just be asking for him to come back as a ghost. Could you imagine a Joker with powers like invisibility, intangibility, flight, and more? Johnny can be impulsive, but he’s smart. None of them will kill The Joker.” 

“Then what are they going to do?” Red Robin asks. 

“My parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz repeats from earlier. “But I am more of an anthro-ectopologist. I am concerned with the study of ectoplasmic beings’ societies and cultures. And while it is very ancient, there is protocol in the Infinite Realms—that is, where you go when you die, should you remain after death—to prosecute living criminals who have killed a certain number of Realms citizens. So you don’t have to worry about your moral code, Batman. The Joker will be tried by a much fairer court than Gotham can ever hope to have. No offense.” 

Jason stares at Jazz Fenton, who he’d pegged as the sane sibling. He’s not so sure now, but he can’t say he hates it.

“And how do we know it’s a fair trial?” Nightwing asks. 

She waves her hand, “Oh, as Gotham’s Knights, you’re key witnesses. I’m sure you’ll be summoned to testify. You will see then. And don’t worry about your secret identities—the dead don’t care much for that sort of thing.” 

“So if this is a ‘fair’ trial or whatever, The Joker’s going to be locked up forever?” Jason asks. “I mean, that’s the only option for shit like him.” 

Batman sends him a look, but he ignores it. 

“Well, there are several different punishments that could be deemed appropriate, but he’ll never be able to set foot in the mortal world again, yes.” 

Jason Todd grins, “Oh, I’m glad your brother’s stupid, kid.” 

She sighs, long-suffering, “Well, that makes one of us. Still, there’s more important things we should discuss now that you’re here.”

“More important than The Joker trying to kill your brother over a Twitter handle?” Red Robin asks doubtfully. 

Jazz smiles, sharp and dangerous, and asks, ”Have you ever heard of the Anti-Ecto Acts?” 

xxXxx

Several months later when Danny is finally un-grounded, he Tweets his last three Tweets before Twitter can become the foolishly named X: 

Imagine bullying the Joker so hard that it not only lands the Joker in ghost prison BUT it also leads to major law reform in the US lmao someone make the domino effect meme about this pls

Y’allre replying to me with thanks like i did anything other than be an internet troll. My sister literally manipulated local, federal, and interdimensional law so you should be thanking her. 

i just a babie 🥺🥺🥺

xxXxx

Thanks for reading! This is the whole fic, so pls do not ask for tags! Thank you :)

[1-800-kami]

4:23 pm | the adventures of dad!gojo

content: 0.9k words, fem!reader, dad gojo, megumi is your son, silly crack fic

gojo satoru is a man with very little fears.

in actuality, people are afraid of him. a mere gaze from those cerulean blue eyes of his sends people running off to the opposite direction, so the adjective “intimidating” was quite the understatement to describe him. some might even say that he’s the strongest, so he possesses no fear at all.

despite that, gojo has one thing he’s deathly afraid of: you–his wife, when you’re angry.

“suguru, help me out here!” geto can physically feel his bestfriend’s panic through the phone. gojo explained the situation in a fast ramble–geto could barely understand what he was saying, but he thinks he got the gist of it: you went out to run some errands and entrusted gojo to take care of your two year old child, megumi, while you were out. gojo conjured up the genius idea of keeping megumi entertained by handing him a paper and markers–so that they could surprise you with megumi’s amazing artistic abilities once you came back home.

it had gone “so well”, gojo said earlier, picking up the paper and studying it. “i think this is a drawing of a cat? or a dog, i don’t really know.. still, it’s made by my son, and it’s the peak of art and i think everyone should see it!”

gojo was so busy trying to decipher what megumi had drawn that he didn’t realize that his son still had the markers in his hands. when he peers over to look at megumi again, he just about screamed.

“gumi- no- GUMI!” he shrieks, snatching the markers away from his son’s hold. megumi, not having a paper to draw on anymore, decided to use the wall as his canvas instead—sketching a poorly drawn house with a bright red marker. “you’re not supposed to draw on the wall! aw fuc-ahem, freak… your mom’s gonna kill me…”

“gosh suguru, some advice would help!” satoru’s never been so afraid in all his years of living. you’re coming home pretty soon, and he has no idea what to do. he’s already imagining the look on your face–and it’s pushing satoru to the brink of passing out. gojo satoru–the renowned sorcerer who’s fought the king of curses, been sealed away in a box and has had multiple near death experiences–all of these things have happened to him yet none can compare to the fear of facing his wife when she’s angry.

“hmm? what is it, nanako?” satoru can hear his bestfriend trying not to laugh over the phone. suguru knows an easy solution to his problem, but he thinks that leaving satoru in the dark is funnier. it’s rare to see the strongest sorcerer like this, so geto revels in it with pure amusement. “you’re hungry? okay… let’s see what i can make for you, yeah?”

“you heard her, satoru~ one of the twins are hungry. i’m afraid i have to go… good luck about the markers, yeah?” suguru hangs up before satoru could say a word. he curses under his breath, but feels his heart stop when he hears the door unlock.

you’re home.

“mama!” megumi yells, clapping his hands and slowly crawling over to the front door. you happily greet your son, placing the grocery bags on the table.

you walk over to your husband, kissing him on the cheek before noticing the piece of paper that he’s holding. “oh? what’s this?”

you grab the paper from his hands and satoru regains a little bit of his composure once he hears you coo at your son’s drawing. “thought it would be nice for me and megumi to surprise you while you were gone… it’s a drawing of a cat-”

“horsey!”

“...a horse. yup, that’s what i said!” he sheepishly ignores his son’s glare, mentally preparing himself to tell you about the wall.

“i love it! oh my gosh, megumi, aren’t you just a little artist?” you say, ruffling your son’s hair with a big smile. “this is definitely going on the fridge.”

“...there’s one small problem, though…” satoru refuses to meet your gaze.

“what did you do this time, satoru?”

“hey, it technically wasn’t me!” he says, this time being the one to shoot the glare at his son. “so hypothetically…what if i told you that gumi thought it would be a nicer idea to use the wall as a canvas instead of the paper?”

“...”

satoru perceives your silence as his death sentence. “look, i’m sorry! i was trying to figure out what he drew and i forgot that he still had the markers in his hands-”

“satoru-”

“and the next thing i know, he drew on the wall before i was able to take the markers from him-”

“toru-”

“and suguru wasn’t giving me advice either, but then-”

“satoru!” your final yell finally breaks him from his ramble. he’s surprised to see that no, you don’t have a look of murder on your face. in fact, you’re actually smiling—looking more amused than anything.

“satoru, they’re washable markers.” you take a baby wipe from your purse and walk over to the wall, wiping away the bright red marker strokes easily with a few swipes. you’re trying not to laugh at his dumbfounded expression. “did you not know that?”

now he’s the one stunned into silence. “...”

“no, no… i definitely knew that…!”

“yeah, sure you did.”

being a father is so difficult.

[xamag-draws]

BBR thoughts 2024

Since I mentioned that I finally dusted off an old project of mine and was ruminating on how I'd remake it, I thought I'd elaborate a little, now that I've solidified some concepts. For funsies

This is gonna be a bit of a long and unfocused one, but I don't share my personal thoughts here often, especially the stuff about my projects I always marinate in. And for once it's something that people have existing context for, so hey why not

So for anyone who hasn't been following me for a gajillion years, The Black Brick Road of OZ was a webcomic that I posted around 2013-2015, back when I was in highschool going on college (which is kinda crazy to think about). It was sort of a darker twist on The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, although I definitely leaned a lot more into dark humor more than anything in those first few chapters

I don't think it's available to read anywhere anymore, and I know people have been asking me about it. So here's the full proper archive of BBR, as full as it can be with deceased Flash

I totally used it as an excuse to shamelessly and self-indulgently experiment. It had interactive pages and GIFs and was wayyy too overproduced for what I could handle or what was necessary, but I did have great fun making it while it lasted

Unfortunately, that excess and the fact that I've changed too much as a person by the time I was in college is what ultimately killed it. The direction I wanted to go in was practically unrecognizable from the original idea started back in 2011, so there were many old hold-ups that I felt ruined it

At the time I kinda wished I could start/rewrite it all over, but considering that I pretty much had the entire script done at that point, it felt like a pointless sisyphean task. So I just put it on a shelf and didn't look back for about 8 years, because I didn't know what else to do

Now to be fair, the nature of my art has always been iterative and cyclical; when I feel like my creative juices have run dry I prefer to leave a project to marinate and move on to something else; cycle through other old things and bring in new skills and perspectives into the mix when I'm ready again. Not very productive, but it is what makes me happy to work on my OCs; I'm doomed to hit a wall with them eventually and I need some time to be able to find a new direction

So that said, I'm glad that BBR was left to marinate for that long. I don't think I was prepared, emotionally or intellectually, to tackle it again until now. The Wizard of Oz book (and the entire series of them, really) has always been near and dear to my heart, but there's a lot of context around it that I'm only unpacking now that I'm older

I think I always inherently feel negatively about the stuff I've made in the past, like its faults always jump out to me more than the positives, especially the more time passes. I've never liked that, and I do really appreciate the kind things people have to say about BBR to this day. The fact that it still can be recognized and remembered is very sweet

When I left it, I already found it "kinda cringe", and that feeling only deepened with years. When I took my first look back at it, asking the question "how would I rewrite it now?", at first I took a very cynical approach, as in "everything would have to be torn down"

But the more I sat on it, the more I found that I still see some merit and charm in the ideas I was putting out; I just didn't know how to execute them at the time (not to pretend that I know what I'm doing now, but I certainly know more at least). Turns out a lot of my old concepts could be changed substantially with just a few small tweaks. So I'd say that's a nicer way to think about my previous work

If you haven't seen yet, I posted a first draft of my new designs for some of the characters (the main group, the Goods and the Wickeds). Definitely subject to change, but more or less how I see them now

I'm just playing with these concepts; by no means would I attempt to remake BBR right this moment. Call it a pipe dream among my other ones. But just for fun, this is the direction I'd like to take:

Nowadays I'd probably make it a visual novel, with more emphasis on the visual part than the novel because I'm no English prose writer by any means. It'd still let me play a little with the interactivity while helping cut some corners on the drawing part (only some, I imagine I'd go hog wild anyway)

I've always intended for some events inspired by the sequel books to take place in BBR's past. Stuff like Jinjur's revolt or Ozma's rule preceeds the main events here. So I think it would be fun to follow the past of a few key characters alongside the main story. One chapter focusing on the present quest to see the Wizard, then one focusing on the past events (that are maybe reflective thematically); rinse and repeat

I'm also sticking a little closer to the original text in some regards. Not everything that I enjoy from the books would be translated here, it's still just a very loose fantasy on the material; but I'd like to be closer in spirit at least

I like mature, wise and powerful Glinda, I like kind and vulnerable Tin Man, I like the Wizard being a pathetic yet loveable liar, so I'm sprinkling in more of that for example

I'd like to keep some whimsy, but make it more grounded and a bit more serious to be coherent in tone. I think the original TWWOOZ book was a more realistic fantasy in some ways, even for the standards of the time; I like its simple but vivid tactile descriptions and details like bringing attention that Dorothy needed to eat and sleep

I find it funny that Baum specifically was averse to making his books scary or unpleasant, finding that unnecessary for telling a compelling kids story, but they still can get pretty dark and disturbing, at least for our modern sensibilities. Let's just say that I intend to use the Evoldo and Chopfyt storylines for my purposes. In that way, I feel like a "darker" Wizard of Oz retelling can still mostly be tonally in line with the original and balance it with enough heart and occasional humor

I slowly grew to appreciate the quaint old-timey quality of the original series, as well. The first book is both timeless and very much a product of the 1900s. Originally I tried to give it a little modern or at least anachronistic spin, but it was moreso because it's what I knew best, so these days I'd rather intentionally lean into the time period. Still not fully historically accurate by any means, but at least directly acknowledging the influence

The events of the story span across 40 years of these characters' lives, so I'm drawing inspiration from the entire so-called La Belle Epoque: the time period around 1880s-1920s. Basically I'm cooking, and my soup is old Victorian fashion morphing into Edwardian fashion and slowly inching towards flappers

Some new Dolly outfits

Lots of crazy things, political changes and innovations were happening at the turn of the century, which I think is noted and reflected by Baum in the books as well; the character of Tik-Tok might not blow any minds now, but he was one of the first robot characters in literature at that point; and don't even get me started on Jinjur, etc. Plenty of really interesting stuff one could lightly ponder in an Oz adaptation these days

Aesthetically, art nouveau has always been a big artistic influence for me, and it'd definitely be its time to shine here. John R. Neill's illustrations of the Oz books often keep me company as well. Nouveau architecture in particular fits that fairytale whimsy extremely well imo

I'd allow myself a little bit of art deco here and there, but ultimately its intimidating geometrical splendor is an antithetical to the flowery nature of nouveau and I associate it with a completely different era. Definitely fitting some characters like my Wicked Witch of the West, but shouldn't be overused

One of my main problems with the original BBR was that eventually I lost track of what it was even about; and the original ending felt too mean and unfulfilling to be worth it. Now I'd like to stick to the theme of home and family as my main theme, but in a different, more bittersweet way than in the book

An interesting connection I made is that a lot of my aforementioned older key characters (the Witches, Jinjur, the Nome King, etc) all came from the same reformatory as kids, that's how they know each other. In my recent research I learned that in those reformatories it was usually frowned upon to release the children back to the families, which were seen as the original corrupting influence regardless of the circumstance. The reformatory did everything in its power to cut that connection and make itself the only family those wayward kids were supposed to know and love. That's an unexpected tie into the theme of home that I'd like to explore as well

So yeah that's the current state of it. I have a bunch of outfit concepts I'm slowly cooking, although I'm now sure whether I'd post them... But I do miss these funny guys, and I'm glad some people still do as well :)

[mythologyolympics]

Ancient World Dashboard Simulator

🐢 aristotlestortoise Follow

I'm so sick of these philosophers waving dead chickens around to prove their point like that's not contributing to unnecessary food waste when children are starving in Gaul

🦷 diogenessimp Follow

and who says they didn't eat the chicken afterwards you presumptuous garum sipper

besides how would that benefit a starving child in gaul diogenes did that in athens thats like 6000 stadia away from gaul

🐢 aristotlestortoise Follow

As if donating a day-old chicken that had been used as a prop isn't a hazard for food poisoning or something geez

How about you bring in a live chicken and demonstrate your point with that and then donate it to a godsdamned farmer who can do something with it

🦷 diogenessimp Follow

look neither of us understands diogenes whole school of thought as well as he does and if he thinks using poultry for props is the best choice then imma trust he knows what he's talking about

🦣 giantwoolybones

do you guys know that you are arguing about a dead chicken

24,874 notes

👨‍👦 corophilus

not to be an art critic on main or anything but has this sculptor ever heard of a dynamic pose

#a boy this age would be moving!!

3 Notes

✊ p-o-p-u-l-a-r-i-s Follow

The people just don't seem to care about how Caligula keeps beginning new construction projects with public funds. People are homeless and starving and he puts up a new theater in the middle of the city as if we need that.

Now he's claiming to be a god?? Plus there's rumors he has sex with his horse.

It's very important that you contact the members of the senate to let them know the people are ready to rise up if they don't depose Caligula. We should get organized and flood the streets.

🎽 crixusstan

I see you not reblogging this. Come on, this should have 200k notes

14,381 Notes

💸 achaemenid Follow

Dude, this invention of the coin is so iconic. Cyrus is gonna go down in history for this one. I mean that in a good way.

🪙 lydianmetallurgy Follow

Sorry but Cyrus stole the entire concept of the coin from us and I'm sick of people acting like we didn't have contributions to make to advancements in science and culture just because we were conquered by your stupid empire. Cyrus is a tyrant and just wants to gather as much power as he can.

🦁 daniyye

Cyrus let my people go back to our homeland, so he's all right by me

#by the rivers of Babylon we sat and wept when we remembered Zion #now we don't have to do that anymore!!

18 Notes

🥇 gladiatorheadtohead Follow

Remember, you're voting for who you think would win the fight, not who you like the best.

24 Notes

🐺 lyca

just left my den and there's just 2 human babies lying on the ground all alone

wtf do i do

🐺 lyca

so i happen to already be lactating so i guess... i just have 2 more cubs now?

🐺 lyca

guys these babies are so cute. i think they're going to do great things one day

#personal #do not reblog i mean it this time 6 Notes

🍆 miletus-leather Follow

The best sex toy shop in Miletus. Come see our selection!

🦌 artemisbow Follow

I'm not one to harsh on a small business trying to make it but I've been to this shop and women are an afterthought here. You'd think the only people interested in dildos were men the way they act here.

🍆 miletus-leather Follow

Women should be weaving and taking care of their children, not coming into our sex shop.

😈 hermescock Follow

K

🐐 blessedsatir

U

64 Notes

[monstrifex-art]

Howls in the Heights

Art and story by me, for the TF anthology Shifts from the Shelves.

Story:

Smoke hung in the air like an unanswered question. Between the blotchy wallpaper and the liquor-stained floorboards, the poker room couldn’t accurately be described as “nice.” But Donovan owed me a favor, so for the time being this space in the back of his bar was mine. The faint music of a jazz combo leaked under the door, distant and a little sad. I stretched, twine running through my fingers as I looped it around the tack pinning a balding man’s mug-shot to the wall.

“That one’s kind of handsome,” Rita mused from behind me.

I scoffed and shot a glance over my shoulder. Rita stood close enough that I could smell her perfume. She was watching me map my thoughts on the wall with casual amusement, her dark eyes skimming lightly over the collection of newspaper clippings and photographs.

“Maybe he was. But he’s not looking so good anymore.” I uncapped a pen and drew a large red X over his face. “Handyman Wharton was a real piece of work. But no one deserves to die like that. These murders… in all my years of investigating, I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“Mmm, sounds to me like he had it coming,” she breathed as she leaned her chin on my shoulder. Rita was beautiful in a way that made it hard to think straight. She had wavy hair that fell like a black curtain on one side of her face, eyelids and lips done up in a matching smoky coal. Tonight she wore a cocktail dress that poured smoothly down her curves. The thin fabric left very little to the imagination.

Rita and I had crossed paths in a couple chance encounters over the last couple weeks. She had a habit of turning up just as things were getting interesting, and making just about everything a little more complicated. For some reason she seemed to take a shine to me. We’d started spending nights together, and she proved as enthusiastic between the sheets as she was on the dance floor. Maybe more so.

“I’m getting close,” I murmured softly. “All these bodies—there’s a pattern here. Crime barons, crooked cops… someone is making a power play for this city’s underworld. Whoever they are, they can’t hide from the truth.”

Rita slid off my back and glided over to the card table where she’d left her lighter. She sat, one leg crossed over the other, and took a long drag from the mouthpiece of her cigarette holder.

“I like watching you think, Detective. It’s like watching an old car struggle up a steep road.”

“This car still has some miles left in it,” I chuckled. “See here—Wharton was a regular at the Glass Eye. You remember, where we met at the craps table. And here, if my sources are right, Wharton was smuggling ammo for the Pinstripe gang. They’re based out of Turnstile, where you took me to see that boxing match. Hell, if I didn’t know any better Rita I’d say…”

Something cold ran down my spine. Old instincts flared to life, telling me I’d just stumbled into something big. My eyes flitted from headline to headshot, arcs of twine adding up in an intricate equation. My thoughts clicked like a typewriter, checking hunch against evidence, step-by-step. It was impossible but… the data points aligned. How could…

“Ahhh… starting to put the pieces together, are we, darling?” Rita’s voice found me from far away, as if I was at the bottom of a well. I turned to face her, limbs numb.

“You…”

She smiled, white teeth flashing in the smoky gloom. “Of course it was me, dear. It was all me. All along.”

“But… the bodies. They were torn apart. How did you…”

She laughed in that pitying little way she did when she knew something I didn’t. The melodic sound of it almost made me want to laugh with her.

“Mhmhmm aww, you still look so confused! Don’t worry sweet thing, this one is above your pay grade.” She stood with a little flourish, like a magician’s assistant. “Here. Perhaps a demonstration will make you understand.”

A part of my mind, not sure which, suddenly sounded alarm bells. An instinct to run pumped through me, made my heart beat fast and my perception sharpen. Rita was just standing there, but some awareness deep in my hindbrain was screaming danger. Predator. Flee.

I gritted my teeth. Not yet. Not when I was so close to the answer.

A shiver ran across Rita’s pale skin, starting at her back and working out to her limbs. I could see her hair stand on end. She stretched, luxuriating in the movement. Her lips parted, and a long sigh streamed from her throat like a release of pressurized air. “Hahhhh… You’re about to see who I really am, dearest.”

A quiet snapping noise, then another. Dozens of meaty clicks inside her like the sound of dislocating joints. Rita pitched forward, bending double in a violent motion that knocked the card table behind her slamming to the floor. She gasped, lurching upright with an ecstatic grin on her face. Her eyes! They had changed, darker around the edges and brighter in the middle. Her pupils reflected light like burning headlights. I couldn’t look away.

“All the rest, it’s an… affectation. Like a favorite dress that I wear around town.”

Her elbow-length gloves were starting to tear. I could see dark fur through the rips, black claws cutting neatly through the satin fingertips. She groaned, and I could hear the timbre of her voice roughening. Something cracked in her legs. Her feet shifted, pushing her taller inch by inch as they extended into long sinewy paws.

Her dress clung tightly to her curves as her frame broadened. The cloth strained, her collar line deepening as the flesh of her shoulders and chest rippled with new bulk. I could see her nipples pressing through the black cloth, erect with sensation.

She gestured to the dress, to her glittering necklace and sheer stockings. “This, all these pretty things. It used to be me… Gruuhh.” Her voice faltered as an involuntary growl rattled through her. She smiled sweetly, regaining her composure. “But not anymore.”

The fabric gave with a loud tearing noise as a large tail, black and shaggy, thrust out behind her. She took a few balancing steps forward, then reached up to brush the hair out of her face with one clawed hand. Her breathing was coming deep and heavy now, hot fog mingling with smoke in curls around her smile.

“Don’t get me wrong, darling. I do love our little song-and-dances. Being the stunning vision on your arm is a treat! But the real me can’t dazzle a cocktail party in quite the same way.”

She grimaced, and I could see her teeth lengthening into interlocking fangs. Fur crept down her face, pressing in at the edges of her cheeks and trailing down her nose.

She blinked and stared deep into me with those burning eyes. “I clean up pretty nice, wouldn’t you say? I certainly had you fooled!” She cackled with a wild abandon that approached madness.

Her shaking laughter choked off into gasps as she convulsed with another surge of growth. The wet sounds of her bones rearranging were almost drowned out by the noise of her widening hips and shoulders finally tearing her dress to ribbons. I could just see her face masked in shadow, distorting and stretching as her mouth extended into a snout full of pointed lupine teeth. Rivulets of saliva dripped from her black lips.

I stumbled away instinctively, felt the pins of my map wall dig into my back. Stray clues drifted to the floor like leaves. I could feel my cheeks burning hot as I tried to look away, but I couldn’t pull my eyes from her nakedness as it was torn free before me.

Between gasping breaths, she laughed violently. “YOUR FACE!” she snarled, muzzle curling into a feral grin. “You weren’t this SHY when we MADE LOVE LAST NIGHT!”

She was right, of course. I had seen every inch of her in our evenings together. But there was something about seeing her this way—it was rawer, deeper, more intimate and carnal. I was enraptured with a fascination that had never possessed me during our previous dalliances. I couldn’t understand it. I was hopelessly lost in the rhythm of her shifting flesh. Why? The scene before me was horrific, so why was I feeling this way?

“You’re… I just… I…” I stammered, struggling to put words in order.

“You still WANT me, DON’T YOU?” She was shouting now. “I can smell your desire… What is it you always say? YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM THE TRUTH, DETECTIVE!”

That was it. I was more attracted to her now than I ever had been before. What was wrong with me? Why did my heart feel like it was about to pound its way out of my chest? I shut my eyes, turning away with a strangled cry.

“I don’t understand! Please… I can’t, I don’t…”

“LOOK AT ME, DARLING.”

I blinked toward her, seeing only blurred glimpses. I saw the fur bristling from muscle-laden thighs, the tattered sweat-soaked remnants of her dress stretched over her rippling abdominals. God, parts of her were still so human. She wasn’t an animal or a person - she was something monstrous in-between. She was a terrifying beast, but she was still recognizably… her.

“LOOK AT ME!” she roared, and the room shook. I cried out, and opened my eyes to behold her entirely.

She was beautiful.

She was so beautiful it hurt.

I stepped toward her, and fell into her arms as she embraced me. We fell together to a gasping heap on the floor. We began anew, pressing ourselves into one another with bestial fervor.

The case would have to go on a little while longer.

[koolades-world]

The moment the om cast realized they fell in love with you (part one)

Lucifer

He had a very important report due to Diavolo the next day. Thankfully, it was a weekend, so he could stay up as late as he wanted. He was beyond stressed. Old coffee cups littered his desk. He had already completed several parts of this report, but he had saved the worst part for last. The house was silent for a while. Asmo and Mammon were likely still out, and since they were the main sources of problems, he had silence for a while. But that was too much to ask, of course.

His brothers were causing a ruckus as usual. This time, it seemed as if Beel had eaten one of Levi's limited snacks and several of Asmo's face products because they smelled good. Mammon was also being accused of stealing Belphie's favorite cow pillow. Lucifer knew it was only a matter of time before Satan got involved and the house set on fire again. He hoped Mc wasn't involved, but with his luck, they were right in the middle. His mind drifted to them despite the chaos outside. Earlier that day, they were talking about an art project they had recently started. It was a paint by numbers that they planned to hang in their room once they were finished. They had sweetly remarked the deep red roses reminded them of him, and it was all he could think about hours later.

He sighed. He knew the fight was going to escalate but he didn't want to spend a moment away from the report. The yelling grew louder as they came down the hall. As he stood up, the hall went silent. He paused, suspicious. He stood there for a moment before cautiously opening the door. There was nobody in sight. He shut the door again but before he could get more than a few steps away, there was a soft knock on the door. With another sigh, he turned back around to open the door.

On the other side of the door was Mc. Belphie was draped over them from their right side, one arm wrapped around him. Mc was basically dragging him along since he was too big for them to carry and he was half asleep. He was not paying attention to anything but Mc. If Belphie was any smaller, he would be curled up in their arms, like a baby, or a cat. This stirred something within Lucifer, but he ignored it. In their other hand was a fresh cup of coffee. He wasn't sure how they knocked.

"This is for you." They held out the cup with a gentle smile. "I figured you would want another one. I made it myself."

"Thank you." He took it and sipped it. It was just how he liked it.

"I sorted out your brothers. I promised to take them out tomorrow for ice cream if they were quiet and kept to themself for the rest of the evening. I'm going to look for replacements for with Levi and Asmo lost, and I'm pretty sure Belphie's pillow got lost in his bed so we're about to go look." Lucifer was speechless. A strange feeling grew in his chest that he couldn't quite place. He choked out another quiet thank you. Belphie was quietly whining about his pillow. Mc shushed him and promised him they were going to find it

"I'll leave you alone now. If you need anything from me, let me know. Good night." Just like that, they were gone, dragging his youngest brother behind them. He shut the door in a stupor. After sitting back at his desk, he realized what this feeling was. Earlier, he was jealous of his brother, but seeing Mc act to tenderly to both Belphie and himself made him feel fuzzy inside. He had fallen, and hard at that. To think, the powerful Lucifer was in love with something as simple as a human. What was he going to do?

Mammon

Mammon was at his sixth photoshoot this month. Since it was on the other side of town, his brothers were interested in coming at first since they didn't go that way often. However, by the third time he was called out there, nobody wanted to tag along anymore. He had specially invited Mc, figuring they would want to come with him. They did, but they were all after school, which is when they had club meetings. They had recently become the president of RAD's garden club, so as much as they wanted to go, they couldn't skip these meetings. He was hurt by that, but he knew they couldn't help it.

The fourth and fifth photoshoots were fun while they were happening, but he felt oddly lonely after all the excitement had died down. He had gone to a bar both times afterwards, and that was the plan this time too. There was a store he had passed on the way there and had seen outfits that reminded him of Mc that he wanted to buy for them. He thought they would appreciate it and might be more inclined to come along next time. It was greedy of him, but that's what he did best.

The shoot had just ended and he was finally free to do whatever he wanted. While he liked the shoot outfit, he wanted to put his regular outfit back on. He put on his usual, cocky exterior and waved, smiled, and winked at people he passed by. When he reached his dressing room, he slammed the door shut behind him and look a deep breath, finally able to relax. He sat there for a moment, hands on the back of the door, eyes shut. He wanted to leave as soon as possible, so he turned around, but wasn't ready to be greeted by the sight of someone familiar.

"Mc? What the hell are ya doin' here? Don't cha have club?" There they were, the person he was thinking about, sitting in his dressing chair. They were wearing his jacket, no less. He was overloaded with several emotions that he couldn't describe. He was frozen in place.

"The rest of the club realized I was missing out on your photoshoots, so they agreed to meet tomorrow instead. You look nice." Their smile was dazzling.

"I- uh- of course The Great Mammon looks nice! Be amazed human!" He was unsure on how to react. He was not expecting to see them of all people and wasn't mentally prepared at all.

"How did the shoot go?" They stood up and grabbed his arm to pull him over to the chair they were just sitting in. They sat him down and began removing his makeup for him. He was still reeling, but he finally caught up.

"Wait, wait. How did ya get here? You didn't come all this way on yer own, did ya? Are ya okay?" He caught Mc's hands in his own to pause them and scanned their face. They looked alright externally. They smiled at him.

"I'm alright, I promise. Mephisto drove me down since he had business in this area." The thought of them being alone together angered him a little, but he was more glad they got there safely. He knew damn well Mephisto had no business in the fashion district.

“Ya shouldn't be standing. You sit here." He tried to clumsily got to his feet, still holding Mc's hands.

"No, you've been up all day. You worked hard. Let's get you ready to go home." They sat him back down and sat on his lap to continue removing their makeup. He short-circuited, and couldn't form a proper sentence. Mc giggled, making him go red. His ears were the color of Diavolo's hair. Once he stopped trying to speak, it became much more enjoyable. The rest went by in a blur. They buzzed about the highlights of their day, but Mammon simply wanted to admire their face. They ushered him to his closet to get changed, which he did. He didn't pester them about his jacket.

The moment he left the changing room was the moment he realized everything he was feeling was his love for Mc. Seeing them holding his car keys, wearing his jacket and hairclips from the shoot made him realize he was down bad, and there was no getting back up.

Levi

Levi had gotten his hands on a game he knew Mc was looking forward to playing. Lately, they had been caught up with schoolwork. He was able to complete almost all of it digitally, but Mc didn’t have that option, so they had to complete in person assignments, which translated to them getting back so tired they just wanted to sleep. He couldn’t blame them, but it made him feel lonely. Sometimes, he would play a game on his D.D.D, sitting in their bed while they napped, if one his brothers wasn’t already there. Satan would do the same thing, but with a book instead so they would silently agree to keep out the others. It made him green with envy to have to share these fleeting moments with anyone, but it was all he could get.

They were on break for two weeks now. Mc got all their work done early on and promised Levi they would spend as many nights with him as possible. He has gotten his hands on a game he knew they were really looking forward to as a surprise. He just needed to wait for them to show up to his room. Time ticked by. The seconds felt like agonizing hours as his kind ran wild with possibilities of what might have happened to them. What if Asmo dragged them out to a party? What if Lucifer loaded them with more work? Or, worst of all, what if they got dragged into a nap with Belphie?

These thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the hall. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He recognized the gait and heaviness as Mc. Before they could knock, or say anything, he opened the door.

“Levi! I got snacks. Sorry I’m a little late. I had to throw some crumbs to Beel so he wouldn’t eat what was for us.” They smiled at him. He could already hear his heartbeat. He didn’t understand it. “Close the door behind me and lock it so he doesn’t come back for the rest.” This statement made his palms clammy, but he did as they asked

“So, what’s the surprise? You should know I’ve been dying to know all evening.” They sat down on a beanbag chair, crossed legged. Today they looked extra nice in his opinion.

“I got “Help, I’ve Been Reincarnated as a Demon…! the game 2!” He presented it to them proudly.

“You shouldn’t have! You know I was saving up to buy that! You’re so sweet.” They threw their arms up in the air and clapped.

“You’re not going to believe this, but it came in a super bundle and came with the first game, the first game remastered, both DLCS, and a plushie mc’s pet cat!” He lifted the basket off his desk and passed it to them.

The look on their face was priceless. This was the first time he had ever felt happy simply because someone around him was elated, no less because of a gift. Everyone else told him he was an awful gift giver, but the look on Mc’s face told him otherwise. They stood up and threw their arms around him. Usually. He would freeze up in a bad way, but this felt oddly joyful. He couldn’t bring himself to hug back, but he savored the moment.

If that didn’t do it, them curling into his side during a particularly long loading screen did. The toy cat was sitting in their lap and their ankles were crossed with his. Now that they were asleep, he was alone with this thoughts again. He’d never felt this way about anyone before. What now?

part two tomorrow with the remaining four brothers since this took much longer than I thought it would. also want to do a side characters version which also might be broken up into parts lol

[loveandmurders]

You belong to Ambrose III (Poly!Sinclairs x f!reader)

Hey everyone!! I'm very happy you still are enjoying this little series. In the end, it should be four parts!

If you have missed the first chapter, it's here, and the second one is here.

Hope you'll enjoy and keep commenting because it's really helping me writing again <3

Warnings : no proof reading, mentions of killing, of sexual activities (nothing explicit), of toxic love, morally grey reader, angst.

You refused to open the door for the rest of the day. 

You knew where the key was hidden so it had been easy for you to lock it up. And even if Bo could have shot the door open, the brothers agreed it was a terrible idea because you were already pretty mad at them. 

The situation was killing them. But it was better than your absence, and if they had to choose between this or you being gone forever, they would rather keep you here, no matter how upset you would be. 

You were home.

On the other hand, even if they didn’t say it, they all believe they knew you well enough to seduce you back in their embrace. After all, it wasn’t the first argument you had with them, and you always came back to them. You came back because they always showed you they were eager to make things better for you. You were the only person Bo ever apologised to, for instance, because they would do anything for you. 

They wanted to believe that things were going to be back to what it was supposed to be. The good thing was that you didn’t seem afraid of them anymore. They were pretty certain they could fix the situation from there. They just needed to not do anything that would make you feel threatened. 

They also hoped you remembered how they loved you, how they could only love you. You should know how insane and obsessive their love was. You should be able to understand why they needed to kill your friends. And it wasn’t truly to punish you, it was mostly because they couldn’t stand you around other people. You were supposed to love them, and only them. You were theirs, forever.

Bo thought he might need to also kill your mother because he noticed she kept calling on your phone. She was worried for you, because it had been a while she hadn’t heard from you. She had a bad feeling about all of this, so she kept calling. In the end, he answered it. She didn’t recognise his voice as he explained to her, doing his best to conceal his southern accent, that you were currently under the shower but that you would call her back soon. It appeased her, even though she seemed a little bit suspicious. She asked several times if you were okay. 

Meanwhile, Vincent and Lester got rid of the bodies. It was better to pretend you never went with your friends anyways. Vincent was a little bit sad to let go of such perfect people, but he was ready to sacrifice his art to you. Lester was happy those friends of yours were dead but he thought they might have been too quick at killing them. Maybe they should have convinced you it was better that way, before doing it. He was aware they had been too impulsive; the brothers had never been too good at staying calm when it was about you.

As Lester went back to his truck, he sent a little look at your room window. He prayed to the Devil for you to open the door and agree to talk to them.

You were getting crazy inside your room. You couldn’t rest and everything around you reminded you of your childhood with the Sinclairs. You rolled your eyes when you noticed the boys kept your clothes, even the very old ones. It seemed like they couldn’t get rid of anything that used to belong to you, even broken toys. 

Your heart tightened in your ribcage when you took a closer look at the drawings littering the walls. More memories flooded through your mind. You used to be all happy together. The first drawings you found were very childish, but slowly they got better. There were a lot of portraits of the whole family, including you. You remembered the day you were doing the portrait of Trudy was the day you first kissed Vincent. The weather was so hot and no one was around, so you told Vincent to remove his mask. He agreed, because it was you. You made him feel so normal, so handsome even. You didn’t really know what happened, but you ended up on his lap, kissing him as if your life was depending on it. His hands had held you with such strength, almost leaving bruises on you. He knew he was your first kiss, and it made him feel good about himself. He grew addicted to your touch and kisses then, and you used to love being his little goddess.

You also found gifts the boys got you. You found quite a few rocks and you remembered Lester offered them to you during your first date with him. The twins were barely leaving the two of you alone, so you both decided to sneak away. You went together in the woods, knowing no one would find you there. You let him guide you, trusting him. He was a little bit shy, so you had been the one who took his hand in yours. You could see him again, watching you with heart eyes and letting escape how beautiful, smart and amazing you were. He couldn’t stop babbling and when he finally calmed down, he kissed the back of your hand, his eyes lit with adoration. He promised you to only belong to you that day, and he never broke his word.

You also found a photo album of your teenagehood and early adulthood. You shivered when you noticed how the boys were always looking at you with so much love, tenderness and desire, in literally every picture of the four of you. Bo often had his arm wrapped around your waist. Vincent was holding your hand. Lester was hugging you from behind. There were photos of you all partying too. And at the end of the album, photos of you kissing the boys. Bo was passionate. Vincent was possessive. Lester was hungry.

One photo caught your attention. It was a summer night, you were wearing a cute little dress and Bo took a picture of you. You remembered that that night, the boys were relentless around you. You were the prettiest thing in their lives and they wanted you. You remembered you laughed so much that night, teasing them. The truth was you were burning for them too. At the end of the night, Bo brought you to a hotel room away from Ambrose and he made love to you for the first time. You both desired each other so badly. He had been so gentle to you, eager to make you feel good before his own pleasure. Despite the rumours, Bo was as virgin as you then. He had waited for you because he only wanted you. He learnt how to play with you, patient and attentive, and then he taught his brothers. You had a very fond memory of that night.

You had very fond memories of the boys.

You didn’t want to admit it but you missed those happy times. It upsetted you a lot, even more than you already were. For the moment, things seemed to be all shattered to pieces, litke the plate you threw at the wall earlier that day. How could things go back to what it used to be, now they killed your friends, now you spent years away from them?

And yet, a little voice inside your head was begging you. She asked you to forgive them. Did you really care about your friends? Could you care when you were finally home? When you could finally have their hands on your body, after all those sleepless nights, dreaming about the feeling of their skin against yours? You never forgot how they made love to you. And whenever you were with someone else, you wished it would be them instead. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have left Ambrose, but it was too late. Maybe you shouldn’t have done this road trip, but it was too late as well. You were stuck, and you didn’t know what to do anymore. You thought you should want to escape, but your heart was breaking even more at the idea of leaving once again. You tried to tell yourself that you were simply afraid of what the Sinclairs would do to you if you tried to get away. But you knew you were lying to yourself. You weren’t afraid.

It was the middle of the night when you heard something scratching at your door. You were trying to sleep, but you needed a shower, and some food, and you started to feel lonely, locked up in there, so you couldn't rest. The noise was also preventing you now. You got irritated so you finally opened the door to meet a cute dog at the entrance. You didn’t know Jonesy but you could tell she was the family dog and she was well taken care of. You sat on the floor and started to pet her. You had to admit that she brought you some comfort, because she was very soft and affectionate. You quietly talked to her as she greeted your caresses with kisses of her own. 

The twins were chatting in the kitchen, planning about what to do about you, when they heard you opening your door. However, they got confused when you didn’t seem to come downstairs or to walk to the bathroom, so they looked for you.

They quite enjoyed seeing you cooing at Jonesy, and it felt to them that fate was speaking once again because their dog never liked strangers. And yet, she seemed to be all over you already. You felt you were watched so you looked up and met their gazes. Your attention quickly went back on Jonesy. You weren’t sure what to do, and it was annoying you.

“Ya hungry?” Bo asked in the softest way he could manage, hoping to coax you, but you simply shrugged. “Ah com’on, baby girl” he hummed. 

The twins carefully moved closer to you and sat on the floor as well. Jonesy loved to have her humans at her level for once so she happily barked and greeted the boys who petted her. 

You stayed silent for a little while. You all were very tense, which was strange because you used to be so at ease around each other. The twins couldn’t wait for you to relax. And you couldn’t wait to forgive them or to get out of here.

“I’m sorry for your friends. We all really are.” Vincent finally signed to you. The only source of light was coming from your room but you were seeing enough of his hands to read them.

“No you’re not, or you wouldn’t have done this” you snapped

“They were in the way. They would have never agreed to leave you here and they would have called the police on us. We couldn’t take the risk when we finally had the opportunity to bring you where you belong. We didn’t have any other choice” Vincent continued

“Whatever you say” you replied

“Lester is really sad you seemed so upset at him earlier and we really want to fix the situation with you.” Vincent tried again

“I’m not sure we can fix anything” you whispered. You felt sad, but not only because of your friends.

“Ya’re one of us, ya always had been.” Bo said as he reached for your hand and brought it to his lips to kiss. You tried to not react to the kiss. And then he didn’t allow you to remove your hand from his grasp, actually trying to bring you closer to him. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier, love, I’m sorry. Ya know I say stupid things when I’m angry” he finally apologised. “We’re blessed ya’d fallen in love with the three of us or we’d’ve killed each other to be your favourite lover” he hummed and you knew he was only half joking about it. 

“And yet my mother said you wanted to marry me” you replied as you leaned against the frame of the door. Jonesy put her head on your lap.

“Still want it…” Bo hummed. Vincent sent him a little look. “And speakin’ of your mother, she keeps callin’. Told her ya’d call her back soon” Bo told you before handing your phone back to you.

“Could call the cops on you” you replied as you took your phone. Bo shrugged.

“Ya won’t. Ya still love us too.” Bo replied with a cheeky grin and you arched an eyebrow at him.

“You seem very confident about it, Bo” you commented

“Ya’re angry at us for the moment, and it’s normal, ‘cause we kill your “friends”. But ya’ll forget about them soon enough” he replied

“How do you know that?” you groaned

“Ya’re actin’ like ya used to. Ya ain’t afraid of us, ya call us out, ya got mad at us when we ain’t doin’ what ya wanna. Ya called this room, yours. Ya’re sittin’ on the floor like if ya’re ownin’ the place. Which ya do, by the way. Ya always did” Bo enumerated the reasons that made him think you were still in love with them “And it’s been years ya should’ve called the cops on us. Ya knew what we were doin’ here and ya knew our plans. And yet, ya never called them.” he continued and you looked away. You couldn’t argue with that.

“I wanted another life, that’s why I left Ambrose. Of course I kept thinking about you guys a lot, but I didn’t want this mess.” you told them

“And yet you came camping close by Ambrose”. Vincent noted “Like if you were trying your luck”

“Yes. I was tempting the devil I guess, and he didn’t miss me” you sighed, wondering what you were going to do now. 

“Tell us what we can do to make things better” Vincent asked

“I don’t…”

You jumped when your phone rang. You answered when you saw it was your mother, with the only desire to reassure her so you could peacefully think of the mess you were in without having to worry about her calling the cops. You half realised that you indeed really didn’t want anything bad to happen to the three men you used to live with.

“Hey, mom” you said

“Hey, darling, where are you? I couldn’t join you easily today.”

“I’m sorry about that, my phone died and we had to find a hotel for the night” you lied with so much ease. You learnt it from the twins.

“When did you say you would come back home?”

“I’m not sure, mom. We’re… getting behind the plan because we faced some car issues. Nothing serious, don’t worry.”

“Is everything okay? You sound strange”

“Of course everything is alright, I’m just tired. I call you tomorrow, mom, have a good night, love you.” you said before hanging up. 

You closed your eyes and took your head in your hands. You could have told her about the kidnapping and the murders, but you didn’t. You didn’t want to finish breaking everything with the Sinclairs. Bo might be right; you might be still badly in love with them, even though it was a mistake that already cost you your friends. 

You felt the twins gently stroking your hands and then arms. They had missed touching you. They moved closer to you again, surrounding you like they used to.

“Let us show ya life can be worth it here. We ain’t deservin’ ya, but ya know we’re good at takin’ care of you” Bo whispered to you and you really wanted to believe it.

--

PART IV

--

Taglist: @lacychick ; @magical-sass ; @limehaspassed ; @loveinglymessedup ; @bloodmoon-bites ; @iwantsleepplz ; @kawaistrawberry21 ; @thatbitchanna27 ; @robin-the-enby ; @i-like-horror-andshitt ; @cecilwritesstuff ; @delusion-is-convenient ; @artificialintestines ; @sugarrush-blush ; @crypticlxrsh ; @g0thl3zz ; @katerinaval ; @oneofvincentscandles ; @limehaspassed ; @sillylittlereader ; @mommymilkerfanclub ; @oranedgp ; @mottysith ; @partlyvee ; @gorewhore123 ; @mrstargayen09 ; @aesthetic-bitches-tum ; @mfnqueen1 ; @etheralrue ; @nanami-kento-simp ; @bluekuu ; @excusemyrandomramblings ; @fluffy-little-demon ; @oneofvincentscandles ; @domoron ; @narcolepticduck ; @partlyvee ; @mushroom-weeb ; @peik0s ; @dumblittlebunbun ; @mottysith ; @iwantsleepplz ; @lolwey ; @02006

[kiaxet]

So it turns out the latest update in @somerandomdudelmao‘s apocalypse comic has been living in my head, and when that happens I need to get it out, so ~900 words of sad it is!

~~~~~~~~

Donnie is good at birthdays. He has been once he was old enough to understand the concept. It's a point of pride.

Specifically, he's good at presents. According to his data, most people who fail at presents do so because of the guesswork they seem to think needs to be involved. He's never understood the point of that. Data and hypotheses, certainly, but why guess when a definitive answer is available after a simple direct inquiry?

"What do you want for your birthday?"

Early on, the presents are easy. Art supplies. Comics. Stuffed animals. Things he could hand to Papa in an easily followed list format, or obtain for himself once they all got old enough to start safely leaving the lair and venturing into the city above. It's simple and straightforward and so, so easy to get right.

(Of course, he always has an annotated list of his own desired gifts to provide to his brothers; if he's solved the guesswork issue, he may as well make things easy for them too. Plus, that method ensures he gets what he wants.)

Things start getting a little more complicated as he and his brothers get older. Art supplies and comics and stuffed animals are still very much appreciated, and he's documented his brothers' tastes well enough to know exactly what they like, but the answers to his simple direct inquiry are different.

"Dee, can you help me plan this mural out? I think I have enough space, but I could use a hand with the measurements."

"Donton, my half of the day is gonna be a Jupiter Jim marathon, and I need you there. Without your laptop." A beat. "But you can pick one of the movies if you want."

"Hey Donnie, you think you can help me out fixing up the gym? Things just stay put longer if you weld 'em."

After a few years of documentation, Donnie spots the pattern. His brothers appreciate physical gifts from him, certainly, but that's not what they want anymore. What Donnie's family wants from him is time - time outside the lab where he spends a good amount of his days, time spent in conversation or shared activity or simply in the same room. It's not as easy as finding the right physical gift, but if that's what they want, then he's more than happy to provide. Now that he's discerned the pattern, it's just as easy to give his brothers what they want, and Donnie can continue to maintain that he is Good At Birthdays as a point of pride.

~~~~~~~~

The Hamatos don't do birthdays anymore. There's no time in the apocalypse, no supplies, and Donnie is one of the few who actually keeps track of the calendar date. The apocalypse certainly has its share of anniversaries, a list that only grows the more people they lose, but birthdays are no longer celebrated.

With one exception.

Casey Jones Junior, their collective adopted kid, is young enough that birthdays still matter - should still matter. They do their best to keep him safe and keep those days calm and happy for him, despite everything happening around them, and while they don't always succeed, they at least try.

And damn it all, Donatello is still good at birthdays.

"Casey Junior!" He greets the kid with a grin, leaning on his bo like it's not both an inconvenience and a humiliation to need to rely on it in order to stay upright.

"Uncle Tello?"

"Since I'm not very good at guessing, I'll ask straight out." This is not entirely true - he has a list of potential gifts for Casey drafted, with 98% certainty that whatever Casey asks for will align with one of them - but he requires that confirmation to move forward. A certainty in a world where certainty is in short supply. "What do you want for your birthday?"

"My...ah." Casey's expression falls and he looks away, gaze fixed on the paperwork in his hands. Donatello says nothing, pointedly ignoring the elephant in the room in order to give Casey space. "You...can do anything," Casey starts.

"Pretty much, yes." Material issues aside - spirits know he'd have a cure for whatever the Krang had infected him with if those weren't a concern.

"I want you to stay alive," Casey says, and Donnie's smile freezes in place as Casey looks back up at him. "Can you do that?"

Damn that two percent uncertainty.

"Ah. Of course." He shrugs, as though he doesn't know exactly what Casey is asking for, and pulls up a holographic display of a calendar. "According to my calculations, I will be alive next month, which means I'll be here for your birthday." Not talking about it won't solve the problem, but it may salvage this conversation. "So! What's an actual gift you want?"

"I want you to be here." Casey's gaze finds a point on the floor, and Donnie falls silent. "Not just for a month."

No. No, he needs something concrete - something he can act on - he knows how long his list of responsibilities is, but he still feels stymied, rushing up on the end, and he needs something he can do- "But it's not a gift," he replies, a last-ditch effort he's fairly certain is bound for failure-

"No. No, it is."

As always, all Donnie's family wants from him is time.

And now, at the end of his rapidly-shortening life, it's the one thing he can no longer give them.

[ivy-loves-chocolate]

✧˚ · .Painting their portrait ✧˚ · .

Note: I hope everyone is doing well 💖 I hope you will enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it 💖 If you want to commission me check my ko-fi and pinned post for prices. Thank you!

When he found out about your talent, he immediately bought you the most expensive equipment. Whether you like to paint on a canvas or on a graphic tablet, he will buy you only the best products. 

He's very old-fashioned and wants a classic portrait. He'll arrange a proper setting to fit his taste. With a fireplace in the background, an expensive suit, and some other decoration that screams old money, he’ll sit with his legs crossed in his comfy chair while he looks at you. A soft smile would appear on his face, especially when you two locked eyes. You thought about painting that lovely smile and contouring those sweet dimples, but you know him better and chose to leave a stoic expression on his face. His soft side is for your eyes only. 

He won’t mind sitting for hours because he'll have the greatest company. You two will gossip about the hottest tea at work, talk about his latest projects, and besides that, he'll have his romantic moments when he tells you how much he cherishes you. 

The final result leaves him in awe.

"Darling, this is astonishing." He said, amber eyes studying every inch of the canvas and feeling an immense sense of pride washing over him. He couldn't take his eyes off your masterpiece.

"I knew you had it in you," he began after a short period of total silence. "Yet you managed to exceed my expectations."

You breathe a sigh of relief. Even if he was your boyfriend, it was hard to please him. He didn't coddle you, so when he praised you, you knew it was real. 

He will hang that portrait with pride in his office, and he’ll tell everyone with pride that his partner made the incredible art.

With the corner of his eye, he noticed how you kept shifting your gaze from your notebook to him. Sometimes you'd stare longer at him, and sometimes your hand would go faster and then slower as if you were trying to remember something. Sometimes, you would scratch your head with the pencil and sighed in frustration. 

Whatever you were doodling, it wasn't coming along as you wanted.

Not being able to control his curiosity anymore, he slowly approached your desk. 

"Whatcha doing there?" he asked, looking over your shoulder, directly in the notebook. A wide smile appeared shortly. 

You didn't hide the page in time, and Leon saw the sketches with his face. You drew him from three different angles. Even if you were in a hurry, you still captured his soft features—his genuine smile and his gentle gaze.

"I- uh-I..." you fumbled, hands going in random directions over the paper.

"You don't have to hide it. I think it looks good." He smirked and went back to his desk. 

"Thanks. Listen, I was taking a break, and I felt a bit of inspiration coming in-"

"You don't have to excuse yourself." He chucked and turned to face you. In that moment, you saw a faint blush on his cheeks. "I think it looks great, given how fast you draw."

"And given how much you fidget,"

He chuckled. 

"Seriously, man, lay off that coffee." 

You both laughed, making some people turn their attention to you out of curiosity. A quick glance around, and you quiet down a bit. 

"If you want to finish, I'll try my best to stand still." 

"I would appreciate that." 

You both smiled at each other. Time went by fast, and by the time you finished, the office was empty. None of you felt the time passing by as you got to know each other better. Leon loved his portraits and "stole" your notebook. 

He loved everything you did. Every gesture, every tic, everything was just perfect for him. 

What he cherished most was your talent when it came to art. Everything you touched turned into a masterpiece, something so beautiful that it can’t be described by a simple man. So, when you wanted to paint him, he looked at you in shock. 

"Me?" 

"Yes, you." 

"Why?" he chuckled. 

"Because I want to. And because I want an excuse to stare at your picture for hours while you are away on missions." 

He pulled you closer and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

"Alright. Make sure to highlight my good side." 

"As if you have a bad one." 

Despite loving how affectionate and supportive you were with him, he never understood why. He viewed himself as a rough, cranky man who got on everyone's nerve. For short, an asshole. But to you, he wasn't like that. Despite the hardships in his life, he still maintained a soft gaze. 

Naturally, he wondered why you wanted him to be part of your beautiful portfolio. And more importantly, did he deserve to be part of it?

For the next couple of days, he waited for you to finish. He would peek in your room to see the progress, but you didn't let him. You wanted to surprise him.

When he came back from his mission, arriving in your comfy apartment, you shoved your art in front of his face. 

"Do you like it?" you asked excitedly.

He reluctantly took the canvas and stared at it for a few seconds. It's not that he didn't like it. It's the fact that he didn't recognize himself. His scars weren’t so prominent, his eyes weren't so full of sadness and anger, and his lips were curved in a soft smile. His features were softer, friendlier, even. 

“This… I know it’s me, but it feels like I’m looking at a stranger.”

"Why do you say that?”

“It feels like you retouched my face.”

“Hmm, no, this is how you look in real life. You're not as tough-looking as you think."

He loves it regardless, and he loves you even more. 

His muse in this life was you. Every time he looked at you, every time he saw your pretty face, his mood would lighten up in a heartbeat. A catastrophe at the moment would turn into something insignificant, something he could overcome with ease.

What he loved most about you was your talent. He was amazed at the beautiful things you could create with your hands, unlike him. He found refuge in your art, staring at your finished and unfinished projects for hours.

"Mi dulzura, what masterpieces are you creating?"

"Thank you, mi rey. Wanna be part of them?"

He smiled. He approached you with light footsteps, rubbing your shoulders gently when he reached your back.

"I'd be honoured."

He was thrilled. Being fascinated by your talent, he wanted to ask you long ago, but he didn't want to overcrowd you as you had many projects and clients. He didn't want to put more pressure. He simply told you that he doesn't want anything fancy.

He waited every day for you to finish, barely containing himself from asking dozens of questions. You had to kick him out multiple times from your room because you wanted to surprise him.

"Luis," you called out, "it's done!"

He came in a hurry, and as expected, he loved the result. He wouldn't stop praising you for creating another masterpiece.

"This is...I have no words. It's simply stunning."

"Well, you are stunning," you said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"I guess I really am your Prince Charming."

You chuckled and were ready to say something, but he caught your lips in a quick, gentle kiss.

From that moment on, he becomes your one and only muse. You'd paint him in various poses and various clothes, sometimes with you as well. He would sit near you, watching you do your magic without saying a word. He loves and respects what you do a lot. 

[oldinterneticons]

You know any old nostalgic social medias that still exist? The only ones I've found so far are hi5 and Xat

Huh I didn't know hi5 was still around. Let me do some digging:

MySpace: still around (barely - looks like the front page hasn't been updated since early last year), but nothing like it was back in the day. Two clone sites that work and look the same was as old-school MySpace, SpaceHey and Friend Project exist.

LiveJournal is still up and some fan communities are still active there. It was bought by a Russian company years ago and there are some concerns about that, but it still works in the same way it used to. Still popular as a social site in Cyrillic-language countries. LJ's software was open source so there were a lot of clone sites of it. Dreamwidth is the main one in use, but DeadJournal and InsaneJournal are also still around.

Obviously DeviantArt is very much still popular for posting art, though looks very different than it used to.

Open Diary and Diaryland are still hanging in there! These ones were some of my favourites way back but not many seem to remember them, they were very early (pre-LJ, I think!) blog sites. Open Diary doesn't look nostalgic anymore but Diaryland does. I also know a lot of people from OD migrated to Prosebox, which is another neat little diary site (but looks quite modern).

Gaia Online still looks fairly active and the layout is largely stuck in the late 2000s!

ChickenSmoothie, a virtual pet site

Neopets is still going, though since so much of it was built on Flash lots of the old games etc are gone :(

Never used Quotev myself so idk how it used to be, but looks like now they are part quiz, part Wattpad-like site?

Honestly UQuiz is a nice little spiritual successor to Quizilla imo.

Still lots of old-school forums out there if you look for them, certainly not for as broad of a range of topics as there used to be but here are some directories to get started.

Looks like some country and language-specific sites that people mentioned in the notes like Skyrock, Metroflog (there's 3 of these if you Google??), Animexx and Kaskus are still active or trying to come back

MyYearbook became Meet Me

Vampire Freaks lives on as a store only

Bzoink, an old survey/quiz/forum site, is still around.

Of course, if you just want to look at old sites, the Internet Archive and Archiveteam's wiki are good places to start.

[greekceltic]

Jacky has a haunted arm. It started as a roleplay thing that I didn't think I would make canon, but I probably will. The situations it creates are fun. Anyway, for our amusement she can use it to touch ghosts so she scared hers. (Art doesn't quite match the writing). You can read the roleplay clip under the read more or on toyhouse.

GreekCeltic-

Junior was where she left him. He glanced at her. Same face. Same bags under his eyes and blushless pallor. What did that bandit say?

  When eyes meet, the soul has made love?

Yeah he was wrong.

Junior turned back around and she wondered how far she could walk before he was compelled to join her. She felt a little bad for not asking, but the feeling had no stay power. His wants and needs took a backseat to hers and she had found a way to make herself okay with that.

He could talk. It was within his power to ask her to put him in someone else’s care any time he wanted. After being left in the woods she could understand why he wouldn't want to be parked on Vlinder's hearth- in the same forest -but there were other people in their group who would travel. All basically good people.

Picking her was self sabotage.

Idiot.

She walked all the way in and shut the door behind her. The wind feathered a few rug ends but didn't bother with him.

  Maybe he's like AI and can't defy me, she wondered. Like bullshit television. She had never made the leap that it could be worse. Jacky felt that she was babysitting and had exactly as much authority as a teenager over a nine year old. In the end, not very much at all. She kept waiting for his tantrum, wanting it because after all that had happened it would make sense, even be healthy, but it never came.

She stumbled back toward the fur mat she had grown to hate since she woke up and stared down at it, too tired to sleep. There was such a thing. Jacky swayed weakly near it and turned away.

She looked at him again and ground her bottom jaw.

  Dummy should be begging to leave.

She hated the way he idled against the wall like a toy soldier waiting for something to do. That was the kind of thing that got ice put down your shorts at sleep overs. The idea of that made her spine prickle in a bad way, but it made her think. Jacky tilted back and lidded her eyes. She reached for one of the support pillars and rested her weight on it, two feet closer to him.   I could do it. She moved her feet, taking care not to scuff them on the floor. She didn't have to worry about the boards creaking. If they didn't notice Vlinder they weren't going to notice her. There were no more pillars between them, but she thought she'd make it. She tried, and on the way thought about how many nights he'd spent right there in a different room. Waiting or staring, as engaged as a coat put away on a hanger. He didn't even breathe loudly because he didn't breathe anymore.   DO something! The last few feet ended with her wobbling behind him, alarmingly silent, but not very steady. She reflexively tried to grab his shirt to pull it back with her good hand, but it went right through. Jacky didn't stop to wonder if he'd noticed that. She stuck her *cold* hand out like a senile old woman with a fork. It went up his shirt and flattened on the part where his back sank in. It worked when she slapped him. No reason to think it wouldn't work now. Themascura--

The target of her ire had no idea.   None.   He was peacefully existing in a corner, appreciating the window. It was nice to have a different view. He liked trees. Not enough to have been okay with just their company for a few millennia, but enough to be okay staring at them for a few days.   It was pretty out there. There were squirrels. And birds! Not many of those in the city. The cats had mostly eaten them all-   Jacky was about to learn a whole lot of things in quick succession. One, she could in fact scare the shit out of a ghost. Two, despite being dead ghosts did in fact have startle responses. Three, when she was touching a ghost with her ghost hand apparently walls became interactable- because he slapped the window/wall with his belly when he jumped and it made a sound.   A beautiful hollow sound, like when you thumped a watermelon.   He left a foggy mark on the window when he hopped back. He was still hopping when he turned around, trying to shake the ice cube out of his shirt. His spine was still flickering when he got all the way turned- visible through his shirt and his front and almost as far as his shoulders. The look he gave her was universal. The sibling glance of- I WAS MINDING MY BUSINESS.   Here you are, starting some shit. He stuck a hand straight out for her face, confident it would go through, but also confident it would mess with her already wonky balance and depth perception. Time for you to take a time out on the floor. You pushed your luck to far today anyway.

GreekCeltic-- His reaction was Christmas. She wasn't sure what to make of his spine. Jacky looked at her hand and wondered if it had cannibalized him somehow. A week ago she had dumped all the extra stuff into Christoph's leg. That had been a surprise. Christoph was alive, there was no way to know it wouldn't do the opposite and suck Junior up like a straw, like it had Virgil's magic.   Oough, there was a mental image she did not enjoy. When she touched Christoph she went with a gut feeling that turned out to be right. Here too she decided to go with a gut feeling-- that it was fine. "Oh excuse me did I interrupt your vacant staring?" Jacky's hand was still up, she dropped it and raised her other one, rubbing her arm furiously like she was trying to warm it up. Cold fire appeared and walked toward her elbow. "Gonna do it again." She spread the fire to her good hand but she never got to try it. He threw his at her face- IN her face -and she spilled in stages. Mostly in slow, wobbly, backwards walking motions that ended up near the bed. She fell against the edge. She had been put to bed. OBNOXIOUS. Jacky leaned into her sprawled arm and chose to be happy he showed some life. She didn't think she could get up without crawling on all fours and that wouldn't be preferable. She was also tired. It was possible she had never been so tired in her life. She crawled over the edge and fell into the divot like a kitten into a laundry basket. She slept all of the night and most of the next day. The only time she got up was to wash. She made a point of it so history wouldn't have to repeat itself. Who knows how many rag baths she got during the week. One was too many. Two would have been life ending. Her hair was close to dry when she went back to sleep. She tried to make it longer, but felt harassed that she was not alone. Dreams had been hard to remember the first week, but they were piling up now. She didn't know if she was remembering things or adding fantasies to what she did. All she knew was she couldn't be her own witness. With each waking she was a little more confused and a little more convinced she shouldn't have gone back for the brooch. It could have waited. At the time the idea of leaving Junior out there to believe no one was coming was too much and it was too much now, but was it worth it?   The elf was back when she got up, laying beside her with his arm folded behind his head.   Him again. Jacky looked at him a minute, but decided she didn't really care. She didn't know why. It should have embarrassed her but it was like sleeping with a big white dog. She got the feeling he thought of her as a cat. She looked across the room and saw Herman on his back against the wall, also asleep. Some kind of spell had fallen over this house. She and Junior were exempt. She grabbed her poncho and went out the front door. The moonlit air was bright and icy. She wasn't wearing her shoes but she didn't expect to go far and wanted the snow to bite her feet a little. It felt good even when it stung. When she got to the gate she put her hand on it and flipped up the latch (too complicated for a dead guy, apparently), but never pushed it forward. It would have been easy, but the idea of the gate held fast. There was a bigger obstacle here than a physical one. I shouldn't, Jacky thought. More like I can't. She'd been thinking about this a lot and the conclusion she came to was damned if I do, damned if I don't.