#this is Crow hating blog <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[katyspersonal]

How me reblogging some fanart goes:

*scrolls*

There is nothing special about this drawing, nothing to stand out, simply academical level perfect painting with perfect shading of just character in Environment, so I won't give it attention

*scrolls*

There is nothing special about this drawing either but the artist is clearly beginner and is currently ignored, I wish to support them!!! *reblogs*

*scrolls*

I could've forgiven drawing his arm turning into tentacles because although it isn't accurate it is still funny and should have been canon, but his hair is black and waving, not brown and straight! Ignored.

*scrolls*

Her ribbon is not like this at all, but this is a cute interaction! Fine, I will reblog..

*scrolls*

OH MY GOD RARE CHARACTER RARE CHARACTER NO ONE ELSE DRAWS HFHFJVGJ IT IS RARE CHARACTER OH MY GOD BLESS YOU OP I LOVE THAT YOU'VE NOTICED THIS RARE CHARACTER VFUYFJFJ BARK BARK WOOF WOOF 🐕 *chews the post a little before reblogging* *+10 HP*

*scrolls*

Ah, funny mem- VARGRAM ERASURE GOD FUCKING DAMMIT VARGRAM ERASURE DO NOT LAUGH RETREAT RETREAT!!!!!!!! Ugh how the HECK even lore-obsessed freaks like me are still doing this?! I don't care that you enjoy neglecting minor characters, Vargram's set is NOT a covenant set!!!!

*scrolls*

Shit, wtf? Why this person still haven't blocked me, after how negative they've been to my friend? Okay scroll carefully to not accidentally press like on Tumblr mobile.... scroll past carefully.... very slowly...... please mobile don't fuck this up...

*scrolls*

This fanart is really inaccurate visually but the concept is perfectly lore accurate! I am definitely supporting this! *reblogs*

*scrolls*

This person's uncolored doodle got 800+ notes in 3 hours when my best and most detailed works are lucky to cross 50 notes... I am worthless and should quit art, the girls clearly like my lore posts more than my ugly art... *sniffs* No wonder, I draw like a child, my faces are ugly, my anatomy is broken, shading makes no sense... *sobs* I bet fans of the characters I draw have cringe attacks when I touch them... God I remember how back in my Mico simping days other Mico simps side-eyed my fanart of him, and it was clear it is because it is ugly... It isn't even a matter of "they want to prettyfy him" because they do reblog and like "ugly" art of him, they just hate MY style in particular because I am a TERRIBLE artist.... *sobs*

*scrolls*

.....what. the. FUCK. Why THE fuck this perfect, amazing, fully colored drawing with hella effort in it barely has notes? Fuck this fandom, I hate this fandom! Nevermind, my art isn't bad, this fandom is just too stingy for support! *reblogs*

*scrolls*

Haha, nice o- VARGRAM ERASURE VARGRAM ERASURE RETREAT RETREAT

*scrolls*

Wow, these sketches are lovely, I want to reblog- *sees the caption like 'some sketches from insta'* Nah, I do not want to interact with artists who otherwise hang out on another site (which sucks and is very toxic to artists btw) and just use Tumblr as a dumping ground or portfolio. I only like people who actually USE this site.

*scrolls*

Good and quality art, but nothing special about this design. It feels like they drew fanart of the fanon! Could have added their own unique vision smh.

*scrolls*

Oh my god, finally! Finally, fanart of the ship I love so much! I've been- wait wait wait. Why Brador is wearing his beast hyde while Laurence is still alive? Brador's beast hyde is explicitly stated to be that of a Cleric Beast, and Laurence was the FIRST Cleric Beast! No yeah, beggars CAN be choosers. Ignored.

*scrolls*

Oh, good art- wait, why this character's eyes are blue? This character has grey eyes! But also this is such a rare character to draw... Fine. *reblogs but points out the eye color is wrong in the tags*

*scrolls*

Good art, but caption is hostile. No one wants to know that you hate this character under the art of this character. Ignored.

*scrolls*

Good art, reblogged.

*scrolls*

Very well done art, but her chest is not that big! In fact, she is boobless. Maybe next time.

*scrolls*

I want to reblog this fanart, but also despite doing so much work on detail and lighting, they forgot those cute accessories by each side of her big brooch! It could not be the laziness, it obviously was using other fanarts as the reference instead of actual ingame screenshots and model!

*scrolls*

Wh... what... oh my god... Oh my god this person drew the idea I suggested.... I've inspired someone? Oh God. Wait a second. Oh no. I need like a full week to articulate my emotions. Oh God I can't. I didn't just contribute something good in the fandom. Oh no *crying cat*

*scrolls*

I feel nothing for this ship, but this fandom is obnoxious when the female character without canon sexuality they've DECIDED is a lesbian is shipped with male character, so I will support this person. *reblogs*

*scrolls*

Good art, but they have this dumb DNI caption under their post. I don't even fit the criteria, I just don't want to carry the whole "panic about contact with ImPuRiTy" attitude with the drawing! When will people learn that some bad person liking their art is not the end of the world? 🤔

*scrolls*

Wow, good drawing!!! *the tags are the wall of passive aggression towards fans with "wrong" headcanons* Well now I am not reblogging it.

*scrolls*

Goddamit, Crow, I know you are desperate for at least any art of your blorbo, but why would you reblog something that is so careless? They clearly like what they could make out of character instead of actual character's appearance! You were just passionately approving of posts like "stop removing his wrinkles!" or "stop giving her huge honkers!" and now this? 🐓🐓🐓

*scrolls*

CROW YOU REBLOGGED VARGRAM ERASURE I THOUGHT YOU WERE BASED BUT YOU...... YOU ARE C R I N G E 🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓

[double-corruption]

Bro youre not an introject youre just roleplaying. Kid go touch some grass

(i wrote a whole thing, but it was silly so i deleted it. take this)

(also it boils down to "i'm a stranger, you don't know me or how my brain works")

[straightasaaro]

me when my new favorite artist is starting to get treated like my old favorite artist

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (Part 9)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things 📍 Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release Part 14 - Someone like her smutty💦

Part 9 - Shiny Things

Ephi moves in, and Ruth reads you like an open book.

「Warnings/Promises: HumanAlastor x Fem! BurlesqueReader, Reference to domestic abuse of non-reader character, fucks, crows, swans, emotions be emotioning, so many birds, I don���t think reader is Aromantic I think she’s just stubborn, Cliff diving is just a joke do not follow people off cliffs, everyone is kicking reader’s ass in some way, my apologies to parts of Texas but not Texas as a whole」

Long time no see ! My head wasn’t in the right space for this story, and my head was also literally not doing well. But! Reading glasses helped since I’m writing on my phone like 7 inches from my face. the goal is Wednesday updates~ there’s about four parts already written so we’ve got a month of runway 👌🏼 Wednesday mornings are ‘God, That’s Good’ by @macabr3-barbi3 and nights are ADIF!

🎶 last time on A Doe In Fall 🎶 : you came home from your first week staying officially at Alastor’s to find your estranged sister waiting on your stoop.

this isn’t sexy but just like minors come on, MDNI? This blog is a sex shop

It’s not that you hated your sister, it’s that you resented her. You could love someone and not like them an ounce… but unfortunately when she left so did your familial love. Which meant all that held you together now was distrust and an obligation to a dead woman. 

“So things didn’t pan out up north?” You waved her into your apartment, agitation apparent in even the gesture of your arm. 

“It’s peachy! Just need to lay low a bit.” She said it with a chipper voice while looking around your apartment like she paid for it. “Wow you weren’t lying about the no money, huh? Talk about a shoebox.”

Charming. 

“Well, Ephi, you’re welcome to leave.” While you didn’t understand the name it wasn’t your business to question what someone asked to be called. Especially considering your own dual identity. You may have disliked the woman but human decency still hung to the bones of the relationship you called your sisterhood.

An obnoxious chuckle, “Nah it’ll do! Just the one single bed?”

“Why would I have more than one bed?”

A deep sigh from her, “Still last to be picked by the fellas, sis?” Her hand passed over your dresses hanging in the open closet, “The ugly duckling was always your favorite story.”

The fine hairs rose on the back of your neck, a cat’s hackles moving as the anger bristled through your body. You opened your mouth to shout all the ways you were not the ugly one in the room, hand already in the air to direct her attention to the dried, hanging flowers covering the far wall. How many people threw flowers at her feet? How many proposals were shouted to her? Wedding rings slipped off fingers and into pockets for her? 

The air in your lungs went flat as a small fire of embarrassment rose in your gut.

How could she so quickly reduce you to a little girl again? Taking the bait for a fight you couldn’t win, because she wasn’t listening to anything but her own voice. Biting the inside of your cheek, your hand fell back to your side.

“You can take it. I’ll just be by for clothes now and then. Been staying with a friend closer to work.” Flipping through your mind you tried to catalog your valuables. What did you absolutely need to not turn up missing?

Ephi sat on the bed and crossed her legs in her best imitation of a lady. “Staying with Mister Fancy Pants?” A smile that reminded you of your childhood. A smile that said, “I won’t tell mom!” Right before turning and running to your mother’s ear.

“No.” 

A giggle two octaves above her usual tone, “Sure, okay! No skin off my back.”

You took your time to gather the items you had forgotten first, then the items you didn’t want her to have. Unsure how exactly to tell Alastor why a week into sharing his home officially you were already redecorating, you left that for your future self to figure out. The first item was obvious.

An angel statue your mother kept on her nightstand. You wrapped it in some newspaper, trying not to look in her direction. 

Your sister chased dick like most people chased liberty. Something she shared with your mother. Which was her right, but it rubbed you the wrong way how she would always forget everyone else in her life when she had a man to call her own. A fair weather friend, at that. 

“How’s Howard?” The dick that took her away so many years ago.

She abandoned the lady act and rummaged through your cabinets, “Who’s that?”

Right.

A gold coin on a necklace. You slipped it inside a sock. 

“So, then, who is the man of the hour?”

Ephi began opening the dresser drawers, poking here and there. “Whaddya mean! I am an independent woman.”

You weren’t sure that had ever been true. While your mother had drilled it into your skull to never place yourself in the need of a man, she always seemed to throw her heart (and house keys and purse strings…) at the feet of any man willing to love her. 

“Love” her. 

There was no love in any of that. A common problem of confusing love with any and all intense emotions affected your mother and many others.

Slashed furniture is not adoration. Breaking windows is not a love language. Bruises are not affection.

Your hands ran down the bag’s shapeless sides. Without thinking, you smiled. Adoration. Love languages. Affection. You had them and the knowledge of their secrets all to yourself. 

Secrets you didn’t need slipping out. Secrets your sister couldn’t hold to save her life, or yours for that matter. You hurried around the room grabbing knick-knacks and photos and jewelry. Alastor would be at work soon, you wondered if you should call to warn him. This time not about a hot headed flatfoot but a nosey sibling.

You’d tell him later. No reason to talk to Brenda again. Quickly your leather bag got full and heavy. What was supposed to be a casual foray into sharing a home already turning into a full on move. 

Everything you needed and a few things no one ever would, because damn would Ephi pawn them the very second she needed something, were safely zipped away. Any plans to relax at home before work were abandoned and you just marched to the door. 

A random memory flashed behind your eyes,  washing Alastor’s hair in the tub until the water ran clear. Why now? The only memory shared in your apartment. And it was an awful one. But, it had Alastor. That gave it value. 

“Hey, if any men come by looking for me you just don’t answer, okay?” You forced your face to relax, to show the sincerity you worked so hard to keep to yourself, “Please, Ephi.”

Her smile widened past unnaturally white teeth, no money for a room but clearly cash for peroxide tooth gel, “Ooh, why? Little sister make some enemies?”

Why couldn’t she just fucking agree?

“My job sometimes attracts crazies. I don’t tell them where I live but occasionally they figure it out. They’ve gotten violent before so…just don’t answer the buzzer. They’ll say they’re damn near anyone to get you to let them up.” You stopped the nervous twisting of your bag’s handle, “Boyfriend, boss, detective. They've tried it all.”

“Aww, sis. Look at you.” She leaned her full figure against the open door frame, arm raised up like a pin up. Ephi was always effortlessly enchanting when her mouth was closed. “Stalkers? Mama would be so proud. Finally learning how to catch a man’s attention.”

The tears that stung your eyes were inspired partly by anger and partly by pain. They came so suddenly you could only laugh in response. 

“Lovely to see your new name hasn’t changed you, Ephi. I’ll be back occasionally. Don’t steal anything, no strangers over. Spare key is in the bowl by the door.” 

“Oh hey!” 

You turned back.

“I do need some cash. Until I find work.”

The numbness blanketed you with a chill. 

“I’ve got like, three bucks. Is that fine?”

Why did you ask that? You knew she could very well say it wasn’t fine and you’d be obligated to offer to get more. Atleast, that’s what you’d have done when you were younger. How easily you both slipped into old roles. Or perhaps she never grew out of hers. 

She mulled it over, “Yeah that’ll be fine.” Her hand came out and waited for the bills.

An open palm waiting for your money.

You pulled the folded bills from your wallet and set them in her hand without touching her skin. 

“Thanks sis!” She turned and closed the door before you could reply.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The other dancers shot you a look when your bag jingled and clanked as it hit the floor, you wincing as you remembered the ceramic figurine.

“You…. going somewhere, hun? The detective got you on something?”

A quick shake of your head. You hadn’t considered the optics. Luckily it was early enough the room wasn’t very busy. A few select missing women would have pried for more information. Your hands fidgeted, unsure what to do. On the way in you saw some newer talent getting their feet on stage, maybe watch them? Too early for make up. 

A loving voice from Ruth, always a savior, “Cigarette?”

You melted at the offer. Alastor wasn’t a fan of the smell so you were slyly cutting back. 

She popped a sun bleached folding chair open and set it in between you both as a footrest. So many broken and ruined chairs littered the sides of the dingy roof, you were shocked she found a good one on her first try.

“Alright, tell me what happened with that detective. Do I need to go rough up a city employee?” Ruth leaned back and settled into her chair with a creak and a whine of the wood.

You needed a second, eyes flitting around as she handed her cigarette for you to take a drag. What could you say? What did she already know? You’d not spoken about it since she helped shoo him away but the appearance of half your belongings haphazardly stuffed into a bag clearly had her alarms going off. 

“So remember the guy who came by for me? Tall handsome one.”

She nodded enthusiastically, “Yes! Of course. Don’t forget a name like his. Or face.” She whistled like a crude man trying to get a woman’s attention in the most annoying way.

“The detective thinks he did something to Tommy. That he was jealous. Which is ridiculous-,” you felt a nervous energy slip down your arms. 

An abrupt laugh, “That string bean couldn’t open a heavy window. He didn’t do shit to Tommy. What a stupid thing to say.”

Did she notice how much you’d been holding your breath? A deep sigh as you let it go. “Exactly! He doesn’t even know about what happened that night with that guy and Tommy’s arrangement; it’s too mortifying. Anyway, the detective has been hounding me about it. I don’t wanna cause trouble.” You ashed the cigarette and held it out for her, “Stuff is still new with him and me, so I didn’t tell the detective his details or work anything. Why would I? So he can harass him too?” The words all tumbled out so quickly. A faucet turned too far to the left.

“Fair.” A few passes back and forth in what you hoped was a comfortable silence and not an indication she was piecing together things you needed to remain unlinked. Finally, “Didn’t realize you two were still seeing each other. Longest one you’ve kept for awhile now.”

Looking up, you marveled at the view of the open sky. Not a cloud in sight. A smile crept across your face, the heat of the sun warming you from the inside out. The slightest chill to the air warning you of Fall. “Yeah.”

She asked what made him so special and you didn’t know where to start. “The obvious,” you began. “He’s so-,”

“Clever.” “Handsome.”

You’d spoken at the same time, her attempt at soothsaying failing miserably.

“Clever, Ruth. He’s very clever. Handsome men are a dime a dozen. But he’s sharp as a tack.” She rolled her eyes and waved her hand around for you to go on. You let your mind toss out the shiniest examples. “He’s so skilled. He knows how to hunt and take apart animals. He can fish. Cooks like a dream. He knows how to clean clothes well and how to use a washing board.” 

“Useful.” She mused. That isn’t what you meant. You weren’t trying to list off his features like a new appliance. It was just— impressive. He was well rounded.

“And he’s terribly kind. He’s always,” how to say it delicately, “going out of his way to help others solve their problems.” That seemed accurate and vague enough. You chuckled to yourself, remembering him at the kitchen table, “His face lights up so bright when he’s talking about his hobbies. Like, I can see his soul glittering behind his eyes and suddenly I’m just as interested in whatever he’s talking about as he is.” You let your eyes close around the mental image of his surprised face every time you complimented him. But they shot open when she began giggling, “What?”

“You’re in looooove,” her foot kicked yours, “I know that look. Head over heels already. Talking about him like he made the fucking stars.”

Wide eyed and stunned, was it written on your face so plainly? “Oh don’t say that. It makes me so uncomfortable. We’re just enjoying each other's company.” When she moved to give you the cigarette again you didn’t take it. “All I was saying was—,” fuck, what were you saying? That he was special? “He’s a very nice person to spend my limited time with. It’s a finite resource and all.”

With a shrug she took another puff, “What’s to be uncomfortable about? Falling in love is a wonderful thing, hun.”

Was it? Honestly, had she ever considered how much damage came with loving someone? It was putting your heart outside your body. Letting someone else carry it around and just praying they didn’t hurt you, or get hurt, or go off and die and take your heart with them. Why would anyone willingly do such a silly thing?

“Cheesy. And kind of creepy. Falling? How do I get back up if things go south?”

You’d successfully avoided emotional attachment to nearly every lover you’d taken. The way women seemed to get struck down dumb by any old John or Jane just wasn’t appealing. Love was for fools. The weak. The dependent.

Or, so you had whispered to yourself as you pretended to not be home when suitors came knocking, as you avoided ringing phones, as you apologized and slid out of restaurant seats after awkward dinners. 

“If you fall hard enough, you don’t get back up.” She said it like it was a good thing. “You’ll love them forever, even if you hate em.”

That was the problem, too. How could she not hear that as she said it? All loss of control of your own heart and emotions was simply bad. People do irrational things for love.

You shivered, “That sounds absolutely horrid, Ruth.”

“Aah,” she dismissed you with a raspberry blown between her lips, “For the right man, you’ll find yourself enjoying the trip down!” 

“Nah, I’m not fan of heights. No dick is worth that.”

“Is that all men are to you? Sex?” She guffawed, taken aback by your comment. Which was odd, given it was Ruth. 

But, Yes.

Well. No . But — he wasn't a man. He was something different. The exception to the rule. Alastor was different.

Or, fine. 

Yes, he was a man. 

No, you didn’t see them as just sex. It was easier to say people were just pleasure and not stop to think about life any other way. Things got complicated when you added another person. Life became sloppy and uncontainable. If you stopped and considered the lives behind the people you used to lead on and let go before things got too difficult, you’d just wound yourself. It was easier to stop at sex.

When you could. Which you could, before. When sex was a token you traded back and forth with someone. But Alastor didn’t accept that currency. You couldn’t hand him your body and get brief but lovely companionship back. Your value had to lie elsewhere, the things you set before him and the wonders he had to offer were much richer in their worth than what you’d ever had before. 

Sometimes it felt like you slid him a penny and he handed you a quarter. You found yourself scrounging up the petty coins of your worth and trying to save them up for him. Practicing your makeup, learning how he liked his coffee, remembering all of the things he said he hated and loved. Attempting to stop smoking. Every act was another shiny offering for him. 

A crow scrounging the park grounds for glittering trash. Not very swan-like, you thought.

“You really don’t think you’re falling for him?” Ruth put out the cigarette in the coffee can beside her. As you turned to argue with her you saw her face full of amusement and incredulousness. It was rhetorical.

The argument withered and you could only pout, everyone that day seeming to catch your tongue, “I don’t wanna think about it. I’ll get scared and run away. He’ll figure out how little I have to give eventually. If anything more is gonna happen, it’ll happen. I’ll just… let it. Why ruin it with… saying childish things.”

“You’re naive but that’s okay. Enjoy the honeymoon stage while you can.”

Your eyes rolled, “What if he doesn’t feel the same? Why embarrass myself.” When you sighed the weight of just how heavy and true that sentiment was resonated in your stomach. Telling him you were falling in love? Alastor was a killer. His passion was singular. What good was a dame to him? No, worse than worthless. A liability. A witness. A weak point in the walls he so carefully crafted. If he knew you were in love with him he’d just end things sooner than they would have naturally.

“Dontcha wanna know if he’s a waste of that precious time, then?”

You cackled, choking on your spit. Alastor? He was the most worthwhile thing you’d ever encountered. Time with him suddenly had …. Value. That fucking word again. But time with him, it was slow enough to be deep and rich, but so fleeting you already felt a mourning mood for how much closer you were to the end.

You could only shake your head, “Wait, Ruth, didn’t you get divorced?”

“Shhh that doesn’t count!” She rose and stretched her long arms up to the sun and then out to the horizon, “Plus that’s how I know what I’m talking about! After the honeymoon phase? You’ll be arguing about laundry and wishing you were strangers again. Fighting about children and lawncare.”

As your finger nervously came to your mouth, teeth cutting into the nail, you considered how if Alastor complained about laundry and you could argue back with the comfort of knowing neither would simply leave, that’d be….nice. The safety of being honest without the fear of the other person giving up on you. Was that love? 

And did that matter at all? 

You’d thought earlier you knew the answers but now, when someone else said it, you got scared of those words. 

Ruth must have put a spell on you. As you and a bevy of others danced in line on stage, arms over shoulders and legs kicking high enough to show cheek and jiggle the soft skin of your thighs and stomach, you felt butterflies in your gut. Alastor would be picking you up in a matter of hours. 

A few men sent you drinks, which you repaid with a wink and a kiss blown across the bar before downing the liquor. It was the usual routine. You hadn’t felt nerves to see Alastor quite like that since sheepishly picking out “comfortable” shoes.

Alastor’s eyes widened when he took the bag from you, not noticing your attempts to avoid making eye contact. He let out a chuckle, his best attempt at stifling the joking question, “Already moving in?”

He realized quickly enough that wasn’t a good joke. Not when he finally looked up and saw your stare was distant. 

“Everything okay, dear?” He walked to open your door for you, and you nodded a thank you and an affirmative.

Should you rip off the band aid? Should you just say it and see what happens? 

When you turned to look at him and blurt out a confession, you were stopped by the profile of his face. What a gentle face. A lovely jaw. Even his bones were better than other people’s. What were you doing in this man’s car? What little pieces of glittering trash were you about to toss at him on a random Friday night?

No, in the books you read, confessions were always grande affairs. Fireworks and dinner parties and passionate kisses in rain storms.

You’d have to put a little effort into this. His brows rose as he clocked your staring. Eyes on the road, smirk pulled to the right, his hand came to rest on your thigh.

He deserved something much better than whatever you had to offer. Something unlike yourself entirely. 

The drive home, and yes you let yourself linger on the word instead of shoo it away, you watched a deer jump across the dirt road just past the bridge. 

“The bucks chase the does. It’s part of their mating ritual. I guess it’s not unlike the ‘playing hard to get’ some women like. The longer the chase, the prouder the buck to snag his prize.”

You laughed, “Women don’t like it, I don’t think. Well, some do I am sure but… If we don’t do that then people think we’re easy. We need plausible deniability. If people learn we put out we can claim we didn’t really want to and save some face.”

Alastor grimaced, “Gross.”

Unseen, you nodded and turned to watch the buck leap after its doe. 

“Kind of funny, you chased me down, didn’t you?” Alastor’s comment pulled you back to him.

“Oh yes. That makes you my doe.” Your arm came to rest against the car door, the trees slowly rolling by in the darkness. “Reminds me of the small freckles across your shoulders.”

“My mighty buck!” He fawned, in jest, pretending to collapse into your lap. You shoved him back up and behind the wheel proper. “Well given the chance, I’d chase you for miles.” His hand flexed on your leg.

“To Texas?” You asked. Your usual end point.

“Further.”

“How far?”

“There is no limit. I’d … run right off a cliff, head first, if you were waiting at the bottom.” He took his hand back, needing both to hold the wheel. What he said hit him harder than he had intended. Was it too much? A tad too dramatic? A nervous clearing of his throat, followed by an awkward laugh to put more space between him and the confession. 

The idea of you making Alastor chase you was ridiculous. You enjoyed the games you played with others, but you were never meant to be caught. If you wanted that, you’d just…give yourself. As you had done with him. Only him. The first and last person you ever wanted to give yourself over to in any sense. “And if I just… lied down and let you catch me? Would that make me a poorly earned prize?”

“Nope! That’d make me a lucky duck. And make you quite smart, if I do say so myself.” A wink. “Why run from such a catch like me?”

You landed a smack on his arm, light and playful. 

A truly comfortable silence settled in, just the sound of the car trembling over the rough road. The newest model Ford was still as loud as the last, but luckily you were far from others. 

The words had lingered like smoke, and you felt the need to address them.  

“Don’t actually do that though. If I run off a cliff or something stupid, don’t you dare follow me.”

Alastor just laughed, wasn’t that what you were doing for him already? Diving into hell for some inexplicable reason after Alastor. He wasn’t expressing some lack of self preservation, he was merely letting you know he’d reciprocate the fall. You hadn’t made him run after you, but instead seemed to just….rest your neck between his canines. And trust. 

If you were to go to heaven, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. It was too late to redeem his soul now. How far was heaven from hell, anyways? If the devil survived the plummet perhaps he could scale the walls of his enclosure and breach the gates.

Though, as he thought about the idea of heaven, he considered how happy his mother would be to meet you. To take you from her would be as cruel as heaven taking you from him. 

Maybe he could make a plea. To just be able to see you from below. 

But if the knowledge you were happy and safe was all he had, he’d be a richer man in hell than he’d ever been on earth. It’d be enough. 

He’d just need to broadcast his radio waves a little further for your listening pleasure.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @fizzled-phoenix , @star-kujo-platinum

, @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl @smoky000

@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain

@harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby

@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

[one-beer-is-not-enough]

Okay first off I absolutely love your art and the way you render.

Secondly I wonder what Marcel would think of Crow? (His profile is a bit buried on my blog but I use the #crow for him)

Crow hates the preps and rich people in general so Marcel would be on his shit list. He blatantly charges rich students more for his services and he would do that to Marcel as well but upon realizing that he literally doesn't have that much money on him he would quietly lower his prices. Just don't mention it to him his pride doesn't want to acknowledge that he's being nice to a rich kid. He'd feel bad that Marcel is clearly being used by the other preps but just shrug it off as "not my problem".

Thank you, your art is an absolute banger too!! And sorry for the long wait!

I love Crow so much, his swagger is immeasurable and his nonchalance an endless sea. And his backstory is so well-written, I loved reading through his tag :D

I had a couple ideas and couldn't decide which one to draw, so I made both but kept the second one b&w :')

Here’s how I think they’d interact:

First off, I wrote more for Marcel’s lore that I haven’t posted at the time of this ask, which might make Crow not lower his prices after all (💀). Marcel starts using moderate blackmail against people that get on his bad side, mostly embarrassing secrets he finds out from his sister and Christie's group. What’s worse is he steals people’s belongings for ransom. Like, for example he’ll steal your skateboard and tell you to buy it back, or he’ll sell it off to someone else. Fortunately he would only do this to someone he really despises

He doesn’t begin doing this right from the start, so Crow could lower his prices out of pity at first and then make them skyrocket when Marcel gains notoriety for his shady methods lmao

That aside, Marcel respects the hustle. He actually tries to copy Crow… Complete flop. His prices aren't better than Crow’s, and nobody trusts a preppy vendor to begin with. He never lives this one down

Considering Crow’s background with the Harringtons and Marcel being kinda insane about Derby, they’re bound to have a massive conflict sooner rather than later. All it takes to change Marcel’s opinion on Crow is overhearing shit-talk about Derby. The other preps are mostly fair game, but Marcel is corny as fuck, so as soon as he registers the insults to his crush, he’s making a mad dash towards the offenders…

…Realizing one of them is Crow, he begrudgingly holds back from a physical fight, in fear of his prices becoming even more atrocious. He needs his cigarettes and liquor, and having to resort to the townies every single time would be a pain the ass. Still, it’s not enough to stop him from verbally assaulting Crow any time he bad-mouths Derby... Who probably does this just to taunt him, because Marcel reacts like he’s got stage 3 rabies lol. Bloodshot eyes, trembling from anger, the whole shebang. And he can’t do SHIT to Crow, so it’s hilarious to witness him silently going through the 5 stages of grief. He buys a pack of cigarettes immediately after too. With shame.

Marcel may find out about Crow’s history with the Harringtons if Derby ever mentions it in passing. Knowing this, he knocks the anger meltdowns down a notch, but he won’t go much further than that. He thinks he’d look weak if he admitted to being a prick, so he tries to be a little more civil without acknowledging the sudden change

“The hell you mean you don’t sell weed?” <- “None of your business. Also cigs are $20 more now” <- “Fanabola…! I’m gonna become a lawyer just to sue you for extortion!”

On rare instances that Marcel is in a really good mood and Crow doesn’t rile him up on purpose, they might have a smoke together, maybe even talk about the most recent gossip floating around. One of them will probably ruin the vibe immediately after, but for like two minutes they’re chill like that

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - snippet - COD

CHAPTER ONE IS OUT <3 TUMBLR OR AO3

This is a snip of the first chapter for my upcoming wip fic 🫡 yes I have 20+ other projects, no I will not stop myself. This is not really checked for mistakes and stuff will probably change in the actual first chapter of the fic. But here u go, a snack for my sinners.

Word count: 2.5k-ish words

Hybrid!Reader x Price, reader x kinda poly141 later in fic, more to come

Small summary: This is an AU with Price becoming a farmer, hybrid dog!reader as a spoiled pet who doesn’t want to live this country life and hybrid working dogs!Gaz, Simon and Soap, who gets bought by Price. Chaos and smut ensues. Anyways, there won’t be this much in this snip.

Minors do not interact. I will block you if I can’t see any kind of indication of age on your blog.

Cw: There is the whole aspect of holding hybrids as pets, there is violence and punishments in this snippet, being hit with a belt. there is smut at the end (not much). Reader has a pussy, she/her. Reader is chubby but I tried my best to keep other descriptions vague.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The countryside was peaceful compared to the city; the lack of the bustling streets and constant traffic, created a quietness that was hard to describe.

Out here, at the new farm, the noise came from animals that lived in the stables and barn, the occasional rumble as a tractor turned on. The wind tickled the never ending fields of wheat and the long rows of fruit trees, under which the goats and sheep walked most days.

Here the stress wasn't like in the city. Sure, there were stressful moments and sometimes Price looked like he needed to sleep for more than just the few hours he got everyday.

But he didn’t have to worry about the morning traffic, waiting in a queue for an overpriced, questionable tea or coffee. There was no need for him to wear a suit, no noisy, overfilled train cars in the underground. No crowded dog or hybrid parks, no meetings or rules to follow - except those John Price decided for himself.

He was happy, it was clear to you. It had been three months since the move - he had gone back to his roots, buying back the farm that his parents had used to own a little while ago, using some of his endless wealth on renovating the place. There was no step on the stairs that was loose, like it used to when he was a kid - sure they still creaked, but you weren’t afraid they would disappear from beneath you.

It was modernized, but most of the old charm left. Price fit right in; the furniture he had inherited and never believed he would use was suddenly in the living room. His knowledge of the business world was abandoned in the city, for the knowledge of farming that he still had left from his youth. John got a couple of farm hands and workers, who helped him with the big place.

It was like he reclaimed his own self that had been buried beneath ties and paperwork. Now he didn’t smoke his cigars from stress, but from pleasure, clearly much happier.

It was like the farm had made John Price happy once more; his smiles more genuine, his true self stepping forth. Returning to his childhood home and taking over the farm had been the best decision Price had made. There was no question about it.

… and you hated every bloody day at the farm.

The early morning hours being disturbed by the farm waking up, the rooster crowing and John leaving the bed, giving you a pat in between your ears. The constant bugs, the muddy stables and the big animals, the helpers who always teased you for not fitting in, the lack of friends you had out here.

You were not made for farm life. Literally. Simply not made for it.

Some would argue that you, as a hybrid pet, didn’t have a say in it and sure, legally you didn’t. But you were a lapdog, an elegant pet. Not a farm dog. Created to be cared for and cuddled, you were a purebred cocker spaniel hybrid; you weren’t made to run around on a farm, following John on his duties And doing work.

Sure, you had the instincts to hunt a few things here and there, but it was mostly balls and the occasional bird or squirrel. You weren’t a guard hybrid, not really a working dog.

You had had enough trauma throughout your life - you deserved not to be forced into this!

You wanted John to be happy, you really did - you loved your Master! When he bought you a few years ago, when you were still aggressive and unruly (… more than now at least), you had thought he would tire of you like everybody else had. But with patience, rules, training, praise and punishment and a whole lot of sex later, you were a perfect hybrid pet for the city! People always praised how well you looked, laughing when Price said you were really a little troublemaker. You would follow him throughout the fancy apartment, on your daily walks, sometimes for meetings.

But why the fuck did it have to be a farm? He worked around the same time that he did before, genuinely seeming to enjoy himself. Forgetting about poor you!

Out here, there were no hybrid daycare that you would go to when he had long days, there were none of your playmates nearby, everything stank of animals and there were no places nearby for you to get your hair and fur styled and pampered! No nail technicians, no fancy cafes, no shops for John to buy you things in! No special made coffee or chef-made meals every other evening, no freshly baked croissants.

You felt like you had tried. You really had.

But after the first week, you had your first breakdown - and as the weeks passed, they didn’t stop. At first, John was sympathetic, like the perfect owner he was.

Cooing at you, kissing your forehead, as he gently scratched your ears. Kissing away any tears, saying it was okay - that you were just overwhelmed, that it would be okay. That you would come to like it out here.

Big fucking joke.

He had tried every trick in the book, in an attempt to please you and made you less upset, but as days turned into weeks and tantrums began to appear, you knew his patience began to disappear.

He followed professional advice and then the advice of the neighbors down the street, Rodolfo and Alejandro (who had caught you running away at one point), tried some of the workers’ advice. He had given you your own room, and it was mostly designed like your own, perfect to the pale green paint on the wall, all your toys and dog beds, your CDs - everything. He had tried hauling you along every day, trying to give you a routine to follow - but after two weeks, he gave up, not having the energy to deal with a tantrum that got worse and worse each day. He went on walks with you, fucked you silly, tried his best — and you didn’t want it.

No, you wanted to go back to your old life. Not this country life that you hadn’t signed up for, with horses that neighed loudly whenever you passed them; they were definitely going to trample you at the first chance, you knew that. You could hear foxes scream in the night, warning you of the dangers. The goats and sheep were so fucking loud and no you didn’t want to go pick fresh apples off the trees - had he seen the size of the spiders crawling on them?

When you in one of your biggest tantrums took off and bolted from the farm in distress, Rodolfo and Alejandro had almost hit you when you emerged from the corn fields onto the road.

You had cried the entire drive home, no matter what the two men had tried saying, especially as Rodolfo called Price in advance — your master was livid. The worst thing was, that it was not that kind of anger where he yelled at you before punishing you - no, this one was almost silent, a sharp grip on your collar as he dragged you along after thanking Rudy and Ale.

He had belted you then, ignoring your crying and screaming, only stopping when you broke, sobbing and going quiet. He had explained it to you then, what could have happened, what dangers you could have ended in - and as you sobbingly apologized and tried to explain, that you wanted to go back to the city, John had sighed.

Said that he had pampered you too much since he got you, which had made you greedy and attention seeking. Which only made you cry more, as you hid your face in his neck, fingers digging into his shirt, ass cheeks burning.

“Spoiled rotten, little birdie,” he mused, though you could hear the softness in him, your tail wagging a little, hoping to get him to be less mad.

“‘M sorry,” you had whined, ears tipping down, “wanna be good but I don’t like it.”

Your rather dull escape attempt resulted in several things. An AirTag on your collar, so that he always knew where you were. A remarkable lack of treats, sex and then… the crate.

You fucking hated the crate.

Sure, it hadn’t been nice of you to bite one of his pillows into a simple pulp of fabric, feathers everywhere. Or create chaos in the kitchen… or get drunk on his fancy whiskey (that one had ended worse for you, hangover was a bitch and there wasn’t much sympathy from John). And yes, you might have ripped most of the flowers surrounding the house up, until one of the workers had caught you. Maybe pissing yourself in the middle of the living room while staring him in the eyes and ignoring his warnings had been a little…excessive.

But the dog crate? You hated that thing.

Hated it when he locked you up, ignoring your whimpers and whines, your promises to behave, ignoring your little howls as he left.

Mean. The farm had made him mean. Perhaps you had become a bit unruly too, but it was like he didn’t take your clear suffering seriously.

Mean and happy - unruly and suffering. What a pair you were. One of the workers, Laswell, who was a big helper and often stayed over for dinner, suggested a fucking shock collar. You had growled, only stopped when John sent you a sharp look.

You had even heard him talking over the phone with somebody, saying that he didn’t want to rehome you, but he didn’t know what to do.

That had made you melt a little and you had cried as you had crawled into his bed a couple of hours later, begging him to not abandon you.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

It was a random morning a couple of days later, that you found him still in the kitchen, reading the newspaper, humming to himself while smoking a cigar.

He looked nice like this. Despite how he sometimes muttered about being too old, he wasn’t really that old. Late thirties, and perhaps it was the peace on his face or the sun rays that kissed him, which made him look younger. But still. There was a decade between you, but days like this, you were reminded that it didn’t matter.

“Are you going to stare all day or are you going to join me, Darling?” He asked teasingly, pulling you from your thoughts. You let out a little huff and kissed him good morning, receiving a pat on the ass before you sat down on your own seat. It had been a while since the two of you had eaten together - often he was up at the crack of dawn, so his calm behavior and gentle humming was unusual to say the least.

“Why are you not working?” You asked carefully, as you ate some of the bread, trying to ignore how it wasn’t a fancy sourdough one - though you were pretty sure he had picked it up from a local bakery in the village which was a little drive away.

“Because,” he put the paper down, then tapping some ash off the cigar into his ashtray, before looking over at you, a pleased smile on his face, “you and I are going on a trip.”

“A trip?” You didn’t even bother to be embarrassed about how your voice got higher with excitement or how your tail thumped against the backrest of the chair as you wagged it, “where are we going? When? Can we go now?”

Price had laughed, a happy sound that you knew not many got to hear; it made your heart beat a little faster, made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

“Well, we got to do a few things first to get ready, and you,” he used the cigar to point at you, your tail wagging a little faster, “need to not freak out when I tell you where we are going.”

Despite the warning, tears streamed down your cheeks when he told you. John didn’t get mad as a part of you had expected; he knew your abandonment issues first hand, knew how you had been left behind before, from one bad owner to another.

“You’re going to sell me and leave me with a mean owner and I’m gonna die of hunger and thirst - and - and —“

“Not gonna leave you, princess,” John crooned, covering your face in kisses as you hiccuped and sniffled, clinging to his clothes, “you know that. My favorite puppy. Pretty girl.”

Despite your tears and small sobs, your tail wagged at his words, “silly puppy,” he mused with a smile, gently scratching your lower back, “‘m not gonna sell you. Ale and Rodolfo are looking for a hybrid, I figured we could go look at the auction as well.”

“What if - what if - what if you’ll like them more?” You sniffled dramatically, sure that your life was only going to become worse than it already was. One thing was this bloody farm and the crate, another thing was having to share Price. You didn’t like the idea one bit. If that happened, you were going to show him how a proper tantrum was thrown - the crate would probably be the least of your worries.

As if to prove his love, John bent you over the table, fucking you in between the clattering dishes and cutlery, tea and coffee almost spilling over. Despite how many times your owner fucked you, it made you lose control of your mind every single time. His cock reached so deep inside you that it bordered on pain, your mouth open as you panted and moaned at each thrust; your soft stomach being pressed against the edge of the table, one hand holding onto the back of your collar, the other on your tail. The table rattled, John groaned and moaned, your fingers desperately trying to hold onto anything.

“My princess,” he snarled darkly into your ear, “you’ll always be mine-“ a moan, a grunt, “- no matter what happens, yeah?”

“Yes ye-ah- yes, sir, I’m yours - ah ah - I’m yours!” you managed in between pants and wails of pleasure, fear of abandonment forgotten in the ocean of euphoric satisfaction.

You came harder than you had for a while; the reminder of your worth, of how you deserved his worship, making you cream around his throbbing length, legs in spasms afterwards. He pushed deeper, filling you up with a loud roar like sound, his hands moving to grab onto the fat of your ass and hips as he came. Pain and pleasure made your toes curl and a content sigh left you, your tail wagging against Price as he chuckled.

[wilsons-three-legged-siamese]

intro nontheless 🔥

before i get started, i do not post anything to do with political issues in the world.

i am not being hateful, i just simply do not know enough about it. im very uneducated on it and id rather not get into politics online. thank you. x

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name: wil / wiliam

pronouns: he/him

gender: trans masc

sexuality: gay

age: 1m a minor. but idc abt 'dni

adults', yall are chill

birthday: june 2nd

zodiac: gemini

MBTI: iNTP

fandoms: house md, dead poets society,

sherlock bbc

jeeves and wooster, rsl, hugh

laurie, hamilton (musical & hi-

story, history mainly)

extra info: i might dm you. randomly. i love

sending random asks mbbbb bros

warnings: i will make suggestive jokes as

i am a teenage boy in secondary

school, lol. also maybe sense-

tive subjects? ill always add

a tw. just yeah-

─────────ೋღ 💫 ღೋ─────────

my dear mutuals;

(i think thats everyone, just please dm or ask if i missed you. or if you wouldn't like to be tagged <3)

@example-of-a-romantic @asclexe @arrr-im-a-dead-poet @yourfavvgal @prettypinkbubbless @adozenforks @desire-mona @forrestpoet

@ghostboyhood @sillyhyperfixator @jellifishiez @joonof1989 @kattt-5865 @lv3buzzz @zephsterrrrrrrrrr @crow-king-ash @xxcherryberriezxx

@vivaalaviidaaa @boabel @birdyboyfly @neil-perrys-reincarnation @noctilucaa @neil-perrys-suicidal-tendencies @1mlostnow

@anhonest-puck @pingunaa @this-vexes-me @richardcameronshusband @littlelqtte @more-mousebites @alightelixe @consumed-star @billi-ashli

@literallydoctorhouse <3

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boundaries ‼️

i dont appreciate people being negative. like all the time. im extremely good at reading people, so if i feel like you are lying about your problems, i will block you. its happened too many times. my dms are open if you need to vent, but dont make it a regular thing. i have my own things to deal with, so i appreciate if you only vent a few times - make it occasional.

also please dont block me outta nowhere. i wanna know what i did, please.

─────────ೋღ 💫 ღೋ─────────

my side blog; @ask-head-of-cardio ! i dont use it as much as id like to but go check it out <3

ask wilson blog; @dr-well-adjusted

ask meeks blog; @mr-ill-try-anything-once

gore/medical blog; @w1l-g0r3y

─────────ೋღ 🎧 ღೋ─────────

my kins;

steven meeks [dead poets society (1989)]

james wilson [house md (2004-2012)]

will mackenzie [the inbetweeners (2008-2010)]

arvid ???? [swing kids (1993)]

adam kay [this is going to hurt (2022)]

mycroft holmes [sherlock (2010-2017)]

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links to significant posts & my socials;

oc info - sydney forrest

top post

tiktok

airbuds

spotify

stats

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background on my user!;

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special mentions;

@yourfavvgal - matching bios ‼️

@joonof1989 - MATCHING PFPS TEDHDE

@literallydoctorhouse - MY BOYFRIEND ❤

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bonus..;

MATCHING WITH MY DUSTI/COTTON SCRAPP 😚😚 @lefthandedspaghetti

[your-average-toast-enjoyer]

You can hear it in the silence...°○•°☆

*Taps microphone* Check... hello? 1,2... Okay, so uhm, hi! My name is Irene and this is my main (and only active) blog! I used to have a couple other ones but they're completely inactive and I don't think I will use them anytime soon.

(Dividers by @saradika-graphics and @uzmacchiato )

You can feel it on the way home...°○•°☆

Fandoms (active fandoms):

Hermitcraft, Life Series, House M.D, Taylor Swift, Hunger Games, MCU, X-Men, EAH, Arcane, Marauders, Stardew Valley, Sallyface, Do No Harm, Death & Taxes, a bunch of books I've read over the years, Yellowface (by R.F. Kuang), Babel (by R.F Kuang), Percy Jackson, kotlc, Six Of Crows, Omori and more that I probably will add later on.

You can see it with the lights out...°○•°☆

Music:

Taylor Swift

Florence + The Machine

Conan Gray

The Warning

Dead Poet Society

Gigi Perez

Måneskin

Billie Eilish

I don't care if you hate Taylor x

You are in love...°○•°☆

Tagging some moots <3

@under-the-purple-starsss @peapea-0405 @the-official-failure @starboy2461 @boldofyoutoassumeicanspell yall are awesome sauce <3

Oh... you're still scrolling?

Well hello

Love the dedication, keep going girl

Okay fine here's Greek Ekko

[daaydreamy]

Idk if this is too late for blurb night so no pressure! Buttt what about some newleywed / honeymoon fluff taking in the fact that they’re like married now and how long they’ve wanted it, maybe friends or enemies to lovers background? < 3

my love is yours

summary: harry and y/n are married.

warnings: none.

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

•••

“You’re my wife.”

It was morning and the sun was peeking through the curtains, illuminating their hotel room. Harry was propped up against his pillow and Y/N had an arm slung over his stomach, face squished into his side. Harry had been toying with the brand new ring that was around Y/N’s finger that he put there, catching himself smiling as he looked down at it. He intertwined their fingers and watched her ring shine against the sunlight.

“Really?” Y/N chuckled softly and gave Harry’s side a small kiss, before sitting up a little, using her other hand to rub the sleep out of her eyes. She rested her head against Harry’s shoulder after, looking down at her hands, her lips tugging up at the corners.

“I can’t believe you used to hate me.”

“I didn’t hate you.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “I just… disliked you a little.” She shrugged and Harry snorted, turning his head to give her a kiss on her head.

“I love you.” He mumbled against her head and she hummed, using her thumb to stroke Harry’s. It was true though, when she first met Harry she… wasn’t a fan, per se. Harry didn’t immediately take a liking to her either, and they were just like that for a few months. It was like that until the bickering turned into teasing, and the teasing turned into flirting, and the flirting turned into them being head-over-heels in love with each other without them even knowing it.

“I love you too.” She murmured, “Idiot.”

a/n: he’s so husband coded

🏷: @crow-i-guess, @planetflos, @harrycanyonmoonn, @bxtchboy69, @sweet-as-lilacs, @lyricalniall, @venusincleo (couldn’t tag you!), @bxbun111, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @emispleased, @goldenhrry, @cinnamongirlrry, @manifestrry, @sadqn1, @judesgfirl, @taylorsreputationsversion, @violetsandfluff, @phoebebridgersforqueen, @a-strange-familiar, @moonlightbea-33 (couldn’t tag you!), @famedrs-blog, @coochiesteak, @blahblahblah-888 (couldn’t tag you!), @milesisntdonewritingyet, @harrysgoth, @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite, @cinnamonlola, @youcan-nolonger-run, @velvetrylie, @vamprry, @ellie-loveshs, @gorlsinmultifandoms

[katyspersonal]

Dude you got me to start appreciating the female character simp + male character that doesn’t requite the feelings trope for Ciaran and Artorias and it’s been YEARS since I even dared to imagine that for them

I- Girl what

1) How did I even do it, I honestly don't remember posting about them consistently in this context nor I remember hypnotising you?? I mean, I am flattered to be of inspiration (?), but literally HOW? You welcome, I guess??

2) And YOU made me appreciate the cursed trope of a dumbass guy being 10000% convinced a girl simps for him when she has no idea what he's talking about with Smough and Ciaran after I stopped finding it THAT funny for years so we're even fhsdfhds. Bro always smugly invites her to peek on him when he's going to get changed smh :pensive:

[iwasonceabookworm]

and it struck me just like lightning: ive been fighting; ive been striving…

hello! you can call me ‘bookworm’, i use she/her pronouns, and this is my blog, it’s a pleasure to have you here! :D

FREE PALESTINE!!!!!

my (main) fandoms are… kotlc ~ enola holmes (the books!) ~ epic: the musical ~ the riordanverse (mostly pjo & hoo; bit of a love/hate relationship there lol) ~ gravity falls ~ wicked (the movie!!! i'll get to the musical and books…eventually) ~ caesar: the musical ~ peanuts ~ others, too, probably

fun facts… i loove solinh ~ i have an art blog! @bookworm-tries-art ~ dividers from here ~ pfp by @wow-youre-so-pretty (i genuinely can’t thank you enough for this delicious art) ~ i’m also the_ultimate_bookworm on ao3! ~ the pictures at the top are from pinterest ~ my askbox is ALWAYS open. send asks!!!!

my tags… #bookworm gets an ask: when i get an ask ~ #bookworm spews nonsense and #bookworm screams into the void: my og posts ~ #beloved moots <3 and #mutual chaos: all things mutuals (though the first is more my ‘general’ moot tag, while the second is when we get into mayhem) (each moot also has their own tag for when we interact, the general base being #beloved [moot’s name] <3) ~ #bookworm reblogs nonsense: the silly reblogs ~ #mandatory art tag: all the pretty art i reblog ~ there are a few others, but i'm sure you’ll figure ‘em out :D

im reading… the wonderful wizard of oz by l frank baum ~ the inheritance cycle by christopher paolini ~ (rereading) the ballad of songbirds & snakes by suzanne collins

my tbr… the iron widow series by xiran jay zhao ~ a tribute of fire by sariah wilson ~ the book of bill by alex hirsch ~ the six of crows and shadow and bone series-es(?) by leigh bardugo ~ wicked: the life and times of the wicked witch of the west by gregory maguire ~ the song of achilles by madeleine miller ~ anne of green gables by l m montgomery ~ cece rios and the desert of souls by kaela rivera ~ south is the sea by emily rath ~ to all the boys: always & forever by jenny han ~ as good as dead by holly jackson ~ ik it seems like a lot but i’d LOVE to see your recommendations!

my playlist… epic: the musical ~ grace yurchuk ~ billie eilish ~ ava max ~ chappell roan ~ stories from styx ~ six: the musical ~ a select few lana del rey songs

thanks for stopping by! have a lovely day :D

[bru1sedv4mp]

Introduction Post !! XD

⋆｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ✩°｡⋆ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ✩°｡⋆ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆

☆ hey, im v4mp! >ᵥ_ᵥ<

- any pronouns, im genderfluid so im cool with whatevs >:3 unlabled, though im attracted to everyone!

☆ minor DNI (under 15 - over 19)

- major music geek, drop recs, or just yap abt music w/ me :3

☆ this is pretty much my digital diary for all of my thoughts, whether that be positive or negative, so be advised ♡︎

- i’m mentally unwell, and my account/content reflects that (ed, sh, destructive behaviour, obsession, mood swings, si, addiction)

☆ my asks/dms are open! i love talking and would love to make friends, dont be afraid i dont bite hard ;)

- i love affection and attention!!

☆ taken, poly, though i fucking love flirty friendships

☆ TV likes: Hannibal NBC, Criminal Minds, Interview with the Vampire, Queen of the Damned, The Crow, Invader Zim, Dexter, Marvel movies

- Music likes: My Chem, Peirce the Veil, Panic! at the Disco, Fall Out Boy, Twenty One Pilots, Black Veil Brides, Paramore, In This Moment, Andy Black, Sleeping with Sirens, Motionless in White, Hollywood Undead

☆ DNI: racists, transphobes, homophobes, misogynists, hateful people

- tags:

#my sweet luv💕 <— posts abt the sillest :3

#yearning 🫀 <— misc. posts abt.. well yearning

#thoughts ❤️‍🩹 <— negative/vent posts

meet the loser behind the blog !

[starchants]

MEET YOU AT THE GRAVEYARD

billy butcherson x female!reader ; billy is found on samhain.

word count — 1,278.

themes + warnings ; reader is ageless but obviously eighteen or older as depicted as a young woman BUT that term can relate to any age (bc age is a mindset once you hit eighteen in my experience- meaning getting older than eighteen is a mindset) and there is a moment of fluff bc i love this man tbh.

author’s note — nobody ever writes for him &. it’s so super sad :(( so be blessed my lil starlings <3! tempted to make this a series but idunno if anyone would be up for that!

support mention ; if you feel like supporting, a nice ‘like’ will suffice on my blog, i know some writers love to ask nicely if you could reblog or comment etc. yet on my blog (no hate towards them as everyone likes appreciation in different ways), but if you’d like to reblog or comment feel free after all this is a safe space for any fan-individual to have fun :’)

masterlist

y/n had heard of the town’s beloved favorite legend her entire childhood, as she had been living in salem since she was a young toddler. she knew all about the sanderson sisters but most importantly, she knew about the lover of two of the sanderson sisters. you see, she had felt undeniably close to billy butcherson ever since she had heard his name mentioned by one of her teachers during the first grade.

it was a complete utter mystery to the young woman as to why she felt drawn to him, especially during the night of samhain and why she would wake up hours later with no recollection of the night prior. this has occurred nearly every samhain since she had turned the age of thirteen. a number that many consider to be unlucky but y/n and the crow that followed her around for years that she nicknamed as mama happened to love that number. even more importantly, the young (h/c) haired woman considered that to be the day where her entire universe and timeline had shifted around.

yet again the date was marked as october thirty first and y/n y/l/n found herself following mama towards the old graveyard once again. her (e/c) irises looked around as she gently stumbled throughout the cemetery, after she gave a gift to the long deceased soul at the gate who kept watch over the cemetery, as she whispered apologizes to the dead for making her way through their ghostly homes. she hoped that none of them were too mad as she finally made her way to where billy butcherson had been buried all those years ago.

“oh billy.” she softly called towards the grave as she sat down, criss cross, in front of it and gave it a small sad smile as she watched mama sit upon the headstone. “you know what day it is, don’t you?” she remarked as she began tracing random designs into the dirt above his grave, not realizing that she had been drawing a mixture of sigils and runes, which would eventually lead towards him crawling out of his own grave. as she sat there mindlessly drawing those designs in the grave dirt she began wondering to herself — how would he react to the truth and what if she told him the truth after all these years? what then?

you see, y/n y/l/n never had any recollection of any samhain from the age of thirteen to where she is now as a young adult but she would occasionally be gifted dreams that featured that crow she nicknamed mama and flickers of her running through the town of salem with billy butcherson by her side. she knew through those occasional dreams that she had fallen in love with him over the years and she thought herself silly to even think about how he could possibly react to her falling for him after all these years. especially considering he had been dead and gone for a long while. but then again fate always found a way especially when it came to cosmic lovers.

a loud creak could be heard echoing underneath grave dirt causing y/n to jump up from her sitting position upon the ground to stare at the ground with wide eyes and a racing heart. she was beginning to believe that perhaps she was possibly starting to lose her mind due to being tired from her lack of sleep the previous night, only to be proven wrong, when she heard scoopfuls of dirt being moved away followed by loud grunts of annoyance.

“billy?” the young woman called out with a combination of fear and confusion melding into her tone before jumping back as the top layer of dirt was moved away and a head popped up from the grave clawing at their own mouth to try and remove the black stitches placed over them. “oh you poor dear.” y/n had remarked before glancing around upon the ground for an item to help the man and luckily heard a soft caw from the top of the gravestone, causing her to look up and notice a small bladed knife sitting near mama’s feet. she was quick to gently grab it from above billy’s head as he watched her with anxious eyes before she squatted down next to him and stared down at him from outside the grave.

“let me help you with that.” she softly remarked as she gently moved to use the blade against the black stitches and carefully cut them away from his lips. she didn’t believe it was fair for her to just sit here and watch him struggle to remove what was bounded to him that he clearly didn’t like, especially with how she loved him. it was undeniable as her (e/c) irises scanned his face and took in his ruggish and haggard appearance as he did the same with her. a loud clearing of a throat was heard before a raspy voice spoke, “you have a staring problem there ma’am?”

“you know for a man who has been dead for at least a couple centuries, you sure do have a lot of sass in your form of respecting someone.” y/n quipped back to the man who rolled his eyes at her playfully as a grin found its way upon her face. “and maybe i’m over being dead.” the brunet quipped back as he moved as gently as he could to get himself out of his own grave, groaning to himself as he moved considering his bones haven’t been moved in a good long while.

the (h/c) haired woman shook her head at his words as she moved to ensure that the man had enough room to comfortably get out of his grave as she shamelessly watched him move around and she had checked out his clothing that he had been buried in, taking notice of the purple bow tied around his long hair. “you say that like you had the plague.” she remarked back to the man who shook himself like a dog to get another thick layer of grave dirt off of his clothing. he was quick to whip his body fully around to stare at her in order to reply in such a sarcastic manner, “a plague of witches who don’t know how to keep to themselves.

“you see now i know why they decided to kill and bury you.” y/n softly called as she moved to start walking towards the gates of the cemetery. she heard heavy footfalls behind her and grinned as she knew he would be following her as he seemed to want to keep up the banter. “where are we going?” billy had been quick to question as he stood a respectful four feet away from the young woman as they made their way towards the gates. “you mean where am i going and you following me like a six foot something bloodhound?”

“it’s not like anyone else is here and like you said, i’m a few centuries old, who wouldn’t want me to follow them home?” the brunet had chuckled at his own joke and y/n shook her head as she playfully rolled her (e/c) eyes as they approached the gate and she whispered a thank you towards the spirit that watched over the cemetery. “alright come on now, pup.” she spoke in a fit of giggles at the very end and it extended into a full laugh as she heard the now undead man behind her making a sound that was very reminiscent of a fellow dog.

[monscrow]

intro post, i guess!!!

askbox open only on weekends (when i remember lol); got too overwhelmed by spam, my apologies.

last updated 10/feb/2025

⚠️flash warning for blinkies at the bottom⚠️

free gaza, free palestine, stop genocide. you don't agree? block me.

i go by mons, crow and vic/víctor!!

my pronouns are they/them, he/him and any neos/xenos that you think would fit either comedically or off of vibes.

lvl 16, so, a minor !! beware

aroacespec, something like that; qprs are sick asf and all hail relationship anarchy.

art sideblog is @monscrowdraws

audhdcd (asd + adhd + ocd 😻😋) and hEDS. i use tonetags, feel free to ask for clarification!!!

bday is oct 7. 🎉🎉🎉

i'm mexican 🇲🇽!! i speak both spanish and english.

timezone is cst/utc-6.

i say slurs i can reclaim (mainly the f and t queer ones) and swear a lot, though if that makes you uncomfortable please either block me or lmk so i can try to tone it down when around you.

i love interacting!! feel free to tag me in stuff, send some asks (be it on anon or not), or message me! moots can ask for my discord even if we've never actually talked before. though i suck at keeping consistent; nothing personal i promise</3 /gen

i tend to spam-reblog so do with that information what you will.

some tags you might see me use here and there:

#mons rambles ← just my thoughts, ideas, opinions, and whatever i feel like throwing into the tumblr void.

#ask a crow / #anon asks ← askbox replies.

#save / #art save / #fav / #hellsite faves ← these are more for myself, but yeah they're pretty self-descriptive. just in case you get curious or anything.

hyperfixations/interests/things i'm passionate about !!! i guess, kinda

→ mcr (+ most of the members' solo projects)

→ killjoys (california + national anthem, but mainly calif and fanon)

→ demolition lovers lore (i have literally written like at least three different essays about it for school help me i'm so serious)

→ emo/alt/diy culture

→ will wood

→ bandom in general

→ sonic the hedgehog (franchise)

→ graphic design, arts and crafts, illustration, animation (that's right y'all graphic design IS my passion 😔)

→ fnaf (bonnie fnaf they could never make me hate you)

→ cosplay/costume-making

→ d&d

→ crows (no way, crow, really???)

→ australian shepherds

→ the umbrella academy (s4 isn't canon in my heart + currently reading the comics !!! )

→ gravity falls

→ neurodivergencies/psychology/disabilities (this one's pretty meta ngl)

→ lgbtqia+ identities (emphasis on the aroace-spec ones + relationship anarchy)

→ politics/activism

→ linguistics + conlangs

→ fantasy in general (high fantasy, magic, vampires, tieflings, you name it)

→ boardgames

→ the count of monte cristo (book + 2024 movie)

→ webfishing :3

→ uhhhh there's more but i don't remember rn, i'll keep adding as i see fit (probably... maybe..... perhaps....... quizás........ puede ser..........)

dni

trump supporters, terfs, transphobes, anti lgbtqia+/queerphobics, exclusionists, ableists, racists, prolifers/antichoicers, proshippers/anti-antis, irl gore, pro-israel/zionists, pro-ai generated "content", pro-nft, non-critical media consumers, classists, ed blogs, sh blogs.

also, i'm aware that dnis tend to not be effective and i probably will still get shitty ppl in my inbox so i can and will block. though i'm p chill as long as you're chill. this blog is run by a very neurodivergent, mentally ill, mexican, transmasc, aroace faggot, and any kind of bigoted hatred will not be tolerated.

blinkies made with blinkies cafe !!!

pssst btw, before you go, if you read my intro post i'd heavily encourage you to like it, so i can know!!! :] (/nf though!)

[ask-bubbabubbaphant]

"I'm Bubba Bubbaphant! Hey! I remember you!"

"An elephant always remembers!"

[Mod here. This used to be a Mortality roleplay blog (Walten Files), but I decided to change into an ask blog for this silly elephant :33]

[Mod recommends that you don't read their old posts unless you wanna die from cringe-/hj]

Anyways...

💡Headcanons💡

- Bubba is obviously a nerd when it comes to math and other subjects.

- He loves teaching his friends new things! :D

- He sees Crafty as his sister :3 (my personal headcanon)

- Lemon tea enjoyer ✨

- He's Omnisexual.

- Hes dating Kickin'. ( @kickinchicken-thecoolkid )

- He's very kind and playful, but he's also very serious at the same time.

- Enjoys ear scratches :3

- Can be a bit protective over his friends :P

- Tolerates Hoppy and Kickin'.

- Hangs Crafty's drawings on his wall.

- His favorite snack is obviously peanuts ✨

💡Rules💡

- No nsfw or suggestive content.

- Please be respectful to me and other roleplayers.

- If you don't like my headcanons or don't like this blog at all, then you can just block and move on with your day. No need to send hate asks.

- Magic anons are allowed, just don't be a creep or weirdo.

⚠️Trigger warnings⚠️

This blog may include topics such as: Loss of sanity, mental breakdowns, self doubt, mental health issues, a small bit of violence, and blood and gore. Please look away if any of this triggers you.

💡Other Critters!💡

@dogday-shines-bright @that-sunny-pup @kickinchicken-thecoolkid @the-cool-chicken @catnaplovesnaptime @lil-miss-bearhug @hoppyhopscotch1 @the-crafty-unicorn

💡Nightmare Critters 💡

@baba-chops-emo-sheep @rabie-baby-bat @allister-the-procrastigator @simon-the-dragon @poe-the-crow @the-real-maggie-mako @ickylickywins

💡Others💡

@yarnaby-askblog @bouncingyarn @doeythedoughmanwhen @doctor-harleysawyer @ask-kissymissy

[cloud-makers-make-pollution]

INTRO POST

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hi!!!!!

so uh

name : aishani :)

sexuality : pansexual (i believe)

pronouns : she/her

age : im a minor (14-18) (pls don’t be weird)

country/language : UK/English but at this point my relationship with Duolingo has lasted longer than that of actual people

socials :

instagram

pinterest

spotify

im pro palestinian

if you’ve got a problem with any of that, with all due respect, fuck off.

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likes/interests/current or previous hyperfixations

musicals : Les Mis, Heathers, Hamilton, SIX, moulin rouge, EPIC, Mamma Mia, Wicked, semi Percy Jackson and the Lighting thief (???), im attempting to get into West Side Story and Hadestown at the moment

music (the listening version) : Madilyn Mei, Queen, ABBA, a little bit of this, a little bit of that, if you genuinely want to know look at my Spotify I spend more time on my playlists than I do my homework, im a bit of a nerd so obviously classical music has some bangers that go cRAZY, eg gopak like what the fuck why is it such a vibe, arcane soundtrack is currently on loop

music (the instrument version) : I play violin, piano, I sing, and I play a little bit of the ukulele. im now on a mission to learn guitar and/or a woodwind instrument (not brass never brass please god no) UPDATE I’VE BEEN GIFTED MY GRANDMOTHERS OLD FLUTE SO THATS MY NEXT NEW PROJECT

sport : badminton, karate, running from my problems and sprinting away from deadlines

fandoms : Les Mis, Arcane (vi my beloved), Marauders/Harry Potter, The Hunger Games, Shadow and Bone/Six of Crows (this is a malaria free environment can we keep it that way)

hobbies : reading extensive amounts of fanfiction, writing (badly), I like to call myself a musician however im unsure about how far that statement goes, drama, specifically musical theatre, sleeping, starting projects and never finishing them, making random spotify playlists, falling in love with every other person I meet and then proceeding to make it everyone else’s problem

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dislikes

homophobia, transphobia, racism, sexism, trump supporters, terfs, pedophiles, groomers, mushrooms, white supremacy, fear, geography, spiders, just weirdass insects in general, hamsters, and finally, people who eat with their mouths open

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moots!!!

@noahher this is Noah Noah is great we have many conversations and he gave me a pet ferret called Freddie

@k-is-for-potassium they’re awesome literally icon material

@bleep-bloop-boo FELLOW MADILYN MEI ENTHUSIAST IS COMPLETELY AWESOME

@feernflower I tag them in every tag thing I get even though I’ve never interacted with them properly (I’m sorry you seem so cool) and they’re a marauders fan who posts cool stuff go look at it

@nothing-but-glitter-and-lashes HELLO this is my sister she’s great and her blog is cool (I’m in your walls)

@ladymoonstardust aux armies!!! vive les gays!!! the revolution must begin!!!!! exceedingly cool les mis person, and with whom one hath a number of enlightening conversation, more often than not to do with the wonderful beings in that one musical about the land of croissant

@sing-me-sweetly-to-my-doom 🫵🫢🫵😮🫢😮!!!! (ily please don’t forget that <3)

@kurtain-cobain dEINE ZAUBER BIN DEN WIEDER WAS DIE MODE STRENGELTHEILT (im dropping german and I can’t spell ok don’t judge me if I spelt any of that wrong)

“if my self worth is high then im egotistical, but if it’s low then I hate myself, and if it’s vague and undecided then im mediocre, and that’s not an option”