#this was fun and silly to write

[homebody-nobody]

When a dirty, scared, brutalized teenage girl shows up in my living room, covered in blood, all I can think is ‘this isn’t how I planned on becoming a father.’ 

I recognize her immediately. Petite, strawberry blonde hair, green eyes. It’s Joanie Wyatt, the girl I’ve been hounding with nightmares and chasing through the woods with monsters for the better part of a year, trying in vain to write something my publishers might not immediately hate. I even told Sarah, my wife, that I was ready to start trying for kids, in the stupid and foolish hope that news of a pregnancy might get my agent off my back. That’s how incredibly deep this stubborn procrastination runs.

But now here’s Joanie, screaming at me, dripping blood on the carpet, scaring the dog, and Sarah -- Sarah is laughing. 

“A fucking skinwalker? Really?” Joanie is yelling, and I remember I made her righteous and socially aware. “Do you know how gross and appropriative that is?” I don’t answer. Sarah is still laughing. Kenny -- the dog -- is sniffing Joanie’s ankle. 

“And then to not even -- get the fuck away from me --” she says, shoving my border collie in the chest with her foot. Peripherally, I note that she’s evidently not a dog person, maybe I can use that -- “And then to not even research the culture of the natives who literally inhabited the area you’re writing about but still using their lore as a part of your premise --” 

“Wait,” I say, daring to interrupt, “Are you more pissed about the cultural appropriation, or --” she holds up a hand, stopping me. Sarah snorts, completely overcome. 

“I’m getting there,” Joanie explains. “To not even do the research --” she goes on, “What kind of an asshole writer are you?” I don’t answer. I don’t think I’m supposed to, and at this point, I might be a little terrified of her, honestly. Joanie doesn’t care. She keeps talking. I don’t remember writing her as quite such a spitfire, but maybe that’s what my problem is -- maybe I’m underutilizing her character. Maybe she needs a little bit more agency. 

Moving slowly, I pivot towards my desk, reaching for a notebook as Joanie continues to harangue me for my various sins, including a few egregious continuity errors and killing her childhood best friend at the start of the story. This, I gather, is what the whole monologue has been building towards, because her voice -- if possible -- raises a few more decibels, and she starts gesticulating wildly. 

“Like, what the fuck was that for, Mark?” When she gestures, a piece of viscera flies off her 90s-era denim jacket and hits the painting on the wall with a sickening thwap. “You couldn’t think of any other way to split us apart and then bring the whole gang back together? You just had to kill a fifteen year old girl, huh?” 

My hand pauses mid-sentence, and I look up at her over my reading glasses, realizing she’s expecting a reply. For the first time, Joanie notices the legal pad in my lap. 

“Are you taking fucking notes right now, Mark?” 

Sarah, giggles finally calmed, looks at me from the couch, with that expression she has when I’ve done something wrong. 

“Honey,” she says, disapprovingly. Carefully, as if trying not to spook a frightened animal, I set the notes aside. 

“Not to be disrespectful,” I start. Joanie snorts. 

“We’re way past that, buddy.” 

“But how… exactly… did you get here?” 

Joanie throws her head back and laughs with a kind of dark cynicism I wouldn’t have expected from the shy, diminutive young woman I’d decided she was. 

“Oh!” she cries, “Big man writes inter-dimensional portals into his fucking monster-infested forest and wonders how I ended up in his living room? The great master and creator, everyone!” Joanie mimes looking around, as if to an audience, and claps her hands together, dried blood flaking off her palms and drifting to the floor. Kenny, feeling brave, creeps over to investigate. 

“You’re the one who wrote me with a genius-level IQ, nimrod,” Joanie expresses, shouting once again. “You think I couldn’t figure out how to manipulate the laws of reality in order to end up here?” 

“I honestly didn’t expect that, no,” I say, without really thinking before I speak, which is a bad habit I’m trying to break. Sarah, recognizing it, sucks her teeth in my general direction. 

“Well,” Joanie says, settling her weight back on her heels and propping her hands on her hips. “Then clearly, you’re dumber than you look.” 

“Sweetheart,” my wife says, standing up from the couch. “Would you like to take a shower?” 

Once Joanie is sufficiently occupied in the upstairs bathroom, Sarah comes back down for our requisite hushed argument. 

“What are we going to do with her?” I ask. “Obviously, I have to find some way to get her back in --” 

“You’ll do no such thing,” Sarah says, interrupting me. “You’ve been torturing that poor girl for months, and besides, I like her.” 

I reach for her, and Sarah lets me settle my arms around her waist. Holding her is grounding, meditative -- like it makes perfect sense that we’ve got a fictional character of my own invention clogging up the shower drain with monster guts. In the back of my mind, I wonder if Resolve Pet Cleaner will work to get the blood of an eldritch being out of the carpet. 

“Darling,” I say, dropping my forehead to her shoulder. “We can’t just keep her. What will we tell the neighbors?” Sarah reaches up to run her fingers through my hair and I close my eyes, soaking in the feeling. 

“That we adopted,” she answers, like it’s obvious. “We’ve been talking about starting a family for years.” 

“Mm.” 

“Mmhm,” Sarah confirms. Upstairs, the shower shuts off. “I’ll call the school in the morning,” she says, detaching herself from me with a short kiss. “And we’ll get her enrolled.” 

“Sarah --” I start to protest, but my wife only pats me on the shoulder, more than a little patronizing. 

“Think of it this way, darling,” she tells me. “Maybe now you can finish the book!” 

You, a famous horror author, had just seen one of your characters - a young teenage girl - peel herself off the page and appear before you. She’s screaming, your wife is beaming, and this is not how you expected to become a dad.

[almondpiglet]

ppl were drawing mikus from all over so heres habesha miku and her lil twin sibs rin and len!!

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Sapor

{The Apothecary Diaries / Reader}

《Coming back from your travels, you run into a familiar face...》

[2][3]

-

Blinking at him, you hold out the plate easily. "Here, this should put some meat on your bones." You glance back to the pot. The scent of spices and fried meat wafting through the area.

The male gulps, the aroma, while delicious, something was off.

You were a friend of the Apothecary Maomao, though not mentioned much. The few times he's ever heard of you; you were given the title of odd. Even SHE, had found you... Intriguing.

"Well?" You spare him a glance, keeping a steady rhythm when stirring the soup. 

The eunuch sweats as his eyes narrow to the food, squeamish.

Maomao looks away from him, trying to enjoy her meal in peace. She never thought the supposed cool head "Moon Prince", could be so picky. He tried the food at the market, so why now? Smirking at the flaw, Maomao thanks you in her thoughts.

"If you're that scared, it's alright." You state, peeking at Maomao, you note her joyous smile as she sips at the stew.

"But, I would have liked to share a meal with one of Xiaomao's friends."

You say with a soft grumble as the poor eunuch feels his heart race. Guilt clawing at his stomach as he lightly taps the wooden bowl.

Maomao deadpans at the tactic, while efficient (since it would often work with her), it was still bothersome to see.

The male grabs his spoon with a fidgeting hand. Dipping it lightly into the warm broth, he closes his eyes before taking a bite. Swallowing down the smooth flavorful liquid as his eyes open wide at the texture.

"...It's, delicious. Thank you." He smiled, stomach roaring at him for another bite.

"Oh? Good. I'm glad." You cease your stirring, going to the pan beside you. Lifting the lid as the sizzle of steam overtakes the room, you wave it down as you grab another plate.

"Here, 'had some leftover pork, thought' it'd be best to use it with company." You head over to the table, placing down the fried meat.

With a casual hand, you pat his shoulder kindly. Placing the items on the middle of the table for everyone to have.

Face flushed, he takes a eager bite of his meal. Unable to look you in the eye.

Maomao scrunches up her nose in distaste at the male. Stabbing into her portion of meat as she dismisses the idea... Choosing to ignore it and save the headache for another day.

-

"Huh... "Apprentice"...? You sure?" You ask the smaller human, chopping up some cabbage as she hands you another. "You told me that you would cease your traveling for the time being. Possibly an opportunity to learn of the culinary dishes in the palace as well."

"Hmm.." You knew there was more to it than that, but you didn't ask. Grabbing a few plates, you lay the grilled meat onto the porcelain.

"Alright, do I need a interview?"

"You passed the first step." She eyes your actions. "You have skill of what's edible and what isn't, most don't. You're care for what you serve and do it with caution." Maomao nodded as you huff mirthfully.

"You would have to ask your friend Jinshi, I doubt he'd take my word for my supposed, "skill." " You smile, handing over the plate. Maomao scoffs at the thought of HIM being a friend.

 "I will put a good word in." Xiaomao mumbled, "I.. Would not mine to teach you more, of course. And I'm sure I can learn from you as well."

Maomao is quiet, snacking on the fruit you had cut as she eyes your back.

"Found' some mushrooms on my traveling, I don't know if they're poisonous or not. Figured you'll have more fun figuring it out."

You reply as an excited gasp leaves Maomao as she goes to grab your bag. Eagerly digging through it until she found her prize. 

-

Slamming the table, you keep steady on the dough. Flour sprinkled here or there on your skin as you hum. 

"If you're gonna' keep staring, you might as well help." You don't look away from the task as the purple haired beauty blinks at the forward remark.

Playing it off with a polite smile, he emerges closer into the room with his servant behind him.

"I wanted to see to it personally on how your first week is here."

Slamming the dough harshly, the two men jump at the sound, They honestly thought the table would break in two.

"It's very hospital, thank you."

Jinshi walks a few steps closer, peering over your shoulder in quiet curiosity. A small laugh leaves you at the sight of him.

"Would you want to try?" You offer politely. 

Surprised, the young man raises his head at you. "Kneading it isn't always the fun part, but..."

You slam the dough down more softly. "You need patience, being careful with each step." 

*Slam!*

"Because without that, the dough can't rise to its needed structure."

Jinshi blinks, taken aback by your words...

He leaves your side for a moment, going over to the washing bucket. Cleaning his hands and drying them off before returning back beside you. Stary-eyed with a strange smile as Gaoshun pinches his forehead, exasperated at him.

You look at him, "So, you wanna' learn then?"

-

"NO!" You bemoan. "You can't just expect it rise without yeast!" You chide as you hand over the specific item. Albeit strained with your teachings, you helped the poor man with his goal of making bread.

He was a bit overconfident in the beginning though..

"Ah I see.. So like this?" His chest puffs happily, showing you a barely mixed batch of mix.

You watch him focus on his task, sweat on his brow as he flattens the dough. He was diligent, not one to give up so easily, you could give him that.

You tap his shoulder. "I'll take over from here," you reply as the man stops. Looking as if he wanted to retort, clearly, he wanted to finish up. "Yes, thank you. (L/N) for this impromptu cooking lesson." His servant steps forward, nodding to his Master with a frown,

Jinshi's lips curl into themselves, a hint of pout on his face. Yet he relents. "Thank you for the experience and wisdom. I shall take my leave." He flounces out of the room, his smile more than polite.

'That was hard to watch...' Maomao complains, watching you finish up. A proud look crossing your face, the girl is taken aback. Here she thought that look was reserved for her...

'Damn him...' 

Without much thought, you take the bread out of the oven, showing the final product.

"Hmm... It's not bad."

-

Notes:

I wanted to try writing a Senshi inspired reader without being blatant! Just a small idea I've had for awhile! I think Jinshi is a interesting character to write for! And moamao is utterly hilarious! Just felt like trying something new! 

- 

[If you liked it! Let me know! If yall wanna see more of my idea let me know! Thanks for reading! Reblogs, likes, comments are always appreciated!]

[sunny-knight]

THIS IS HOME

@forgettable-au Fan-Animatic ⭐️

The stars welcome him with open arms…

Work and Progress + Analysis below!

You can find the work in progress things here! because I wanna show the sketch animatic and you can only upload one video…

The entire idea was inspired off of THIS lovely little qna written a bit ago! havnt forgotten about it since! Despite what the AU might have you believe And recently I decided I could just draw out the fun part instead of go through the pain of storyboarding and cleaning up a nearly 4 minute long song 👍👍👍

Thats the idea though, theres no real plot, so no real context I can give other than the things the comic itself already provides. “This Is Home” just works incredibly well for this poor childs trauma, and it was a great opportunity to practice my composition and storytelling!!

Onto the deep analysis of every frame individually!!! (this is normal. this happens every time.)

The idea that Wingdings just eventually- gave up. Trying to connect with anyone. HURTS ME DEEPLY. I’m not sure if thats specifically because he just couldn’t get the font thing down, but I imagine that was a big contributing factor. But thats what specifically stops him here. He eventually slams his keys down on the board and says “IM DONE” and throws himself into a thing he can purely enjoy on his own- science. Even at a young age, I feel he only had 2 lives. One with Sans, and one with science. Then when those worlds combined when he became the royal scientist uhhh- I imagine it got worse.

Speaking of his young age, In these shots he’s also notably a tad older than the later depictions of his younger self with the scarf. Less full of joy and whimsy

“His mind is in a different place” is taken a tad more negatively than in the context of the song I feel, as he’s more or less isolated himself from everyone (but Sans) now in this “giving up” phase of his childhood. I wonder how Sans noticed/took that and if he tried to convince him otherwise, but in this case he just thinks he needs some time to himself.

Also let it be known that the words being crammed in at the “Give him a little bit of space” bit is on PURPOSE and a SILLY LITTLE JOKE/VISUAL GAG GIVEN THE LINE. I AM SO FUNNY.

The colors are also notably dark blues, that get greyer when Wingdings has given up. The light that Sans lets in ((looks into the camera, tearing up)) is still pretty cold despite it being brighter.

The berating is also in uppercase to show most of this is from Wingdings’ pov- I know he speaks in proper casing at this time, but I NEED SOME SORT OF INDICATOR, WORK WITH ME HERE. His main issue was his own self consciousness and desire to communicate properly, since it was said before on the blog that no one really picked on him for his inability to talk to them.

Then we have Papyrus!! The colors are similarly blue, but a lot brighter and a touch purpler and greener. Its from the same world, but not the same person. Also he’s wearing a yellow vest which is the complimentary color to blue ☝️

Papyrus is more heavily associated with warm colors in contrast to Wingdings, but this takes place very early on when he was very confused where his place was (or at least I assume thats what happened). He’s associating with warm colors (yellow) but is somewhat weary about it and still subconsciously clutching onto the comfort in familiarity.

The scene ofc depicts Papyrus being incredibly uncomfortable about any photos of himself as a child. It still definitely…looooks… like him. it just feels really wrong.

Similar thing to last time with the fonts as well, uppercase, Papyrus’ pov, he just wants to know who/WHAT he is.

I enjoy the colors in the photo and how they reallly stand out from the rest of the shot, just another emphasis that the photo feels otherworldly to Papyrus.

This is the part where I start weeping pitifully. The tiny Wingdings to Gaster comparison- it’s just so upsetting, I want to know what this poor child would think if he saw what he ends up as 😭

Wingdings enjoyed dreaming about the real stars he MIGHT get to see one day with Sans. The scene is dark, as it still hasnt happened yet, but still bright and hopeful as he stares up at the light! Its always a possibility. But then we have Gaster, who finally did it. He reached the stars, he gets to look up and say “wow…. I really did it”. Staring up at the void before him. Without Sans…I feel he wouldn’t ponder on it much, and consciously he doesn’t see anything bad about his circumstances, but the crack going down his eye that elludes to a tear says otherwise in the suppressed emotions.

The world Wingdings lived in when he was small, seemed so endless…Despite the underground being small compared to the real world, his imagination was endless. He could dream, he could imagine, and create things, get and give new ideas! But now as an adult that just so happens to be a lovecraftian entity, everything is much more simple and straightforward. At least from his perspective…Gaster may be able to DO way more than he ever could as a small child, but his mind is pretty one track at this point.

I wonder how Gaster feels…Now that they’ve gotten to the surface. without him

Im not sure how Papyrus in the game or even in the comic feels about stars, but Sans for one doesnt have to daydream anymore. They’ve also “done it” just like Gaster, but the hug insinuates less of that and more a “we WON”. They share in this moment together more emotionally than anything.

Again, compared to Gaster and them, they enjoy the moment in their own ways- Gaster just the action of seeing the stars, and Papyrus in what the moment itself means. I feel those are the 2 wants Wingdings had and thats a lot of what Papyrus and Gaster are. 2 halfs of Wingdings’…whole…thing

Also the stars welcoming him with open arms is both in reference to Sans but also Papyrus welcoming/accepting/loving himself…

IN CONCLUSION:

…yknow ive never asked before, but if anyone has any questions or needs clarification im happy to-

[secretlysimpash]

Shifter AU König, but he’s not what you expected. 

Seeing a mountain like König, you would fully expect something terrifying. Something absolutely fitting for his 6-foot-fucking infinity height and his skillset. So in a world full of shifters, its only fitting that he’d be a bear…Or a lion, or just…Anything big and intimidating. 

So imagine your surprise when you have to go to his office for something, you need to ask about an upcoming mission…And sitting on top of König’s desk is just

this absolute creature

"Miau."

[flwrkid14]

Tim and Jason: Caught Between Healing and Fear

note: completely inspired by this amazing post! tysm to @timdrakewhump for letting me use it as inspo!! <33

Tim doesn’t flinch around Jason. Not exactly. It’s more of a stiffening, a tightening of his shoulders, a flicker in his eyes that he knows Jason catches. He hates it. Everyone else has moved on. Dick forgave. Bruce rebuilt. Even Damian, with all his sharp edges, has softened into something survivable. But Tim? He still expects a hit that doesn’t come, still hears the echo of fists in the dark.

And that? That’s on him, right? It has to be. Because if everyone else can move on, why can’t he?

They don’t talk about it. Not directly. The bats have always been good at side-stepping, at smoothing over the cracks with enough shared history to pretend the damage never happened. They act like everything’s fixed, like Jason is something fragile they have to keep close, hold together. They ignore the way Tim’s shoulders tense when Jason’s voice gets too loud, the way his hands shake when shadows fall just right. They brush off his excuses to leave the room or, worse, look at him like he’s the problem.

“Jason’s trying, Tim.” “He’s better now.” “Don’t hold onto the past.”

But Tim isn’t holding on. He’s bracing.

Every patrol with Jason is a test. Every sparring match, a gamble. Jason keeps it light—punches pulled, jabs softened with crooked smiles—but Tim knows what Jason’s hands are capable of. He remembers the brutality, the raw fury that doesn’t vanish just because it’s been filed down to something more manageable. He knows Jason’s trying. He knows Jason’s better. But there’s a thin line between better and safe, and Tim’s still learning how to balance on it.

When Jason starts spending more time at the manor, no one questions it. They welcome him with open arms, eager to fill the empty spaces his absence left. He’s part of the family, they say. He needs support, they insist. So Jason sits at the dinner table, helps out on patrol, lounges on the couch like he’s always belonged there. And Tim... Tim watches from the corner of the room, a shadow on the periphery, pretending he doesn’t notice the way everyone else orbits around Jason like he’s the sun.

They send Tim on solo missions now—so Jason can have space. They say it like it’s a good thing, like they’re doing Tim a favor. More responsibility, more autonomy. He should be grateful. And he is. Or he would be, if it didn’t feel like being exiled. The irony isn’t lost on him. They don’t want Jason to be alone, so Tim has to be.

The apartment is quieter than the manor, the kind of quiet that presses in too close. No hum of the Cave, no distant footsteps of someone always nearby. It’s fine. He’s used to it. He tells himself that every night, like a mantra. He likes the solitude. It’s familiar, comforting in a way that makes his chest ache. But sometimes, when the silence stretches too thin, he thinks about calling. Jason always picks up now. He’d probably offer to come over, bridge the gap that Tim never asked to be there.

But what would Tim say? Sorry I still see the blood on your knuckles? Sorry I can’t forget how it felt to be the replacement? Sorry you came back, and I thought it would fix things, but it didn’t?

He doesn’t call.

They’re terrified of losing Jason again. They hold him close, desperate, like he might slip through their fingers if they let go for even a second. Tim understands that. He really does. He remembers the hollow ache that filled the manor after Jason died, the way grief settled into the walls like a permanent stain. No one wants to go through that again. They’d do anything to keep Jason safe, to keep him here.

But no one asks what Tim gave up. What he’s still giving up.

Jason is here, but Tim feels like he’s the ghost.

Sometimes, when they’re all gathered together—Bruce at the head of the table, Dick and Steph cracking jokes, Duke helping himself to another slice of pie—Tim looks around and wonders if anyone would notice if he slipped away. Just stood up, walked out, and didn’t come back. Would they miss him? Or would they be too busy watching Jason, making sure he doesn’t disappear again?

He catches Jason watching him sometimes, eyes sharp and knowing. Jason’s not stupid. He sees the cracks. Tim wonders if he feels guilty, or if he’s just waiting for Tim to say something, to break the silence that’s grown too thick between them. But Tim won’t. He can’t. The words stick in his throat, heavy and bitter.

So he stays quiet. He goes on solo missions, patrols alone, comes back to an empty apartment that feels less like home every day. And he tells himself it’s enough.

Because it has to be.

[2isted-chocol8-art]

Hal's over here deciphering Nomai texts and Hatchy's handwriting -> More Outer Wilds Art!

[bananafire11]

Redraw of the new Jax render cuz im normal

And some stupid doodles ft. Wretched! Jax

[mischievous-thunder]

Yet another casual discussion on their weekly double date night

[hootyhoowoo]

A little 15 min doodle but first post of the year has to be Bingqiu!

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Sapor.2

{The Apothecary Diaries / Reader}

《Coming back from your travels, you run into a familiar face...》

[1][3]

-

Waiting by the lake, you wander into the waters without thought. Finding the purple haired male, he seemed rather unhappy having to traverse the lake back to land.

You offer out a hand, turning around as you gesture to your back. "I'll carry you, we don't need ya catching a cold, Sir." You spoke, waiting. "Ah-, t-there's no need-" He tried to dissuade your offer, it was quite strange to him. He didn't require such assistance!

You look at him sternly, "if you keep yappin' then you'll be frozen the time you get out."

He gapes at your brash words, not expecting them. Yet, you apologize, once more gesturing for him climb on your back.

"You did enough, just let me aid you."

Awkwardly, he shifts behind you as his legs dangle on your waist. Hoisting him up, you traverse the water. "Y-You are quite strong."

You nodded, keeping your eyes focused to land. "I've traveled around a lot, you need strength to protect oneself."

Resting his soaked head on your own, you don't mind the water dripping into your face.

"Thank you."

You said among the soft crickets and moths. A silent question rests on his mind, before he had a chance to speak, you start.

"I am... Often worried when Maomao is here. But, if I could ask one favor from you, Master Jinshi. Keep her safe, or the least, keep a eye on her. Please.." "You pause, grip tighter on the male.

"I know she would of ended up here anyway, but... I just wish not under the circumstances that led up to it." Your tone shifts slightly as you sigh.

Jinshi recalled when Maomao had told him of her unfortunates that led her to the rear palace.

You find the grassy shore, you loosen your grip as Jinshi steps down, mind roaring with questions that he wished he had answers to, yet are silenced as he takes a look at you.

No words could describe the feelings in his chest, so he lets them linger like the mud now stuck to your clothes. Still drenched, but at least the warm air helped. The two of you follow the path back to the palace in silence.

-

Raising a brow at the soaked male, you huff out a laugh at the sight. The Enuche, more displeased by the second, scoffs at you. Throwing a harsh glare at Maomao and you, yet you don't mind.

"My hair is still wet!"

Gaoshun shot the both of you a look as Maomao begrudgingly grabs a towel to wipe down his purple locks.

You on the other hand, decided to treat the soaked fellow for his hard work.

Gathering your items, you place down a heavy tray of jar and boxes. Cups, big and small and different shapes. Maomao and Gaoshun eye you in surprise at the sight. 

Jinshi, still unpleased, crosses his arms.

You place down a simple little cup in front of the drenched male.

You take ahold of one of the other cups, pouring in what he assumed, was milk, steam radiating off the cup.

Laying down a small box of cinnamon, you sprinkle some in with a spoon. Before handling another jar. This time, you use the spoon to gather a good bit of the golden honey, then a small pinch of a sweet-smelling fragrance he couldn't name at the moment. Stirring the mix together slowly, you present the drink.

A syrupy aroma sprouting about as you lay a small plate beside the cup. A strange food item placed atop the plain plate.

"Here, this will warm you up."

The male eyes you skeptically, lowering his hand to grab the cup while keeping contact. He sips the liquid, before immediately placing it down. The gentle sweetness and heat from the drink was... Soothing. 

But he didn't want his rage to slip away just like that!

"It's... Sweet." He mumbles, hands itching to grab ahold of the cup once more.

You shrug, "well, I know tea is more of your preference. But I thought this might help more."

You lightly gesture to the flakey pastry beside the cup. 

"This should do you some good too, I was inspired by the bread you made the other day. Thought' it'd be something you'd enjoy." You state as Maomao rose a brow. You always kept an eye on one's efforts, even herself. (She recalled you making her something mixed with wine for her after this eventful day. She couldn't wait to try it!)

Ignoring the comment, he bites into the dish, taste buds erupting at the buttery taste and crunchy texture. He gulps down his gasp with each bite. Enjoying the meal as his agitation lightens. Even if his clothes were still a heavy thing to wear.

"Master Jinshi, your clothes are provided for when you're done." Goashun states, bowing slightly as he nodded to you with appreciation.

Finishing up his meal, he gathers himself. Head held high as his signature smile is back on his face. Maomao stands a bit closer to you as she eyes him wearily. That expression was different, she knew it was. The way his eyes lowered just a bit, as if his gaze was.. Enthralled-!

"Thank you, the meal was delicious, I shall take my leave now."

'Their hair...' Maomao eyes you, hair slightly damp and then noticing your clothes were slightly soaked in the back.

Maomao wwould rather you not be swept away by the males charms. No matter his beauty, she cannot allow you to be heartbroken by him. (Much less be by him.) She dismisses the idea for another time, even if the situation regarding the envoys was over. It still wasn't finished quite yet..

"Maomao." You pipe up, collecting your dishes. 

"Yes?"

"I wanted you to try the chocolates I made, I infused a filling with some wine, I learned the idea from the west-"

Excited at the words, she turns to you slowly. "I'll give it to you once I'm done cleanin' up."

"I'll help." She replied too quickly, a giddy smile on her features. You laugh at the enthusiasm as the two of you finish up.

Maomao goes lost in her thoughts, 'if...I could, I wouldn't mind travelling with them... It wouldn't be so bad. If we could eat such new and creative dishes and discover more medicines...' She blinks at the wistful idea, shaking her head. "Rather, I should just focus on the now."

-

You take ahold of the mallet, sweat glistening on your brow as bits of your clothes hang off of you due to much movement. A excited expression on your face as you swing the hammer down. 

Jinshi, terrified at the sound, hides by the door as he watches Maomao eye your body thoughtfully.

Smiling down brightly at the squishy substance, you continue your work as Jinshi gathers the courage to walk inside. "I see that you're busy.." He hides his tenseness with a smile, trying not to eye your process. Maomao hides her stink-eye, she could literally see him trying and (failing) to watch.

Gaoshun enters right behind his master, rather calm at the sound of your quiet grunts as you slam down the mallet quickly onto the forming mochitsuki.

"Apothecary, I would like to have a word."

"Yes, of course Master Jinshi."

Before the three of them left, they hear a hearty cheer leave you. Catching their attention, you grin wide with mirth

"Haha! It's ready!"

Goashun sighs as he notices his master and the Apothecary smiling at the sight.

-

Notes:

I had a fun time with trying to write with a Senshi! Inspired (Y/N). I have whole types of head canons with them with Jinshi and Maomao. They're just so silly! Also, I hope some of ya'll got the references I added! (Also, Senshi is a character from Dungeon Meshi.) I recommend it! It sorta ties in with the ideas I have regarding these two fics and hopefully more to come!. 

Tags: @teddiiursula @softnightplumes

(SO, another installment! I've been thinking maybe I should start writing for more Shoujo series. Manga, anime or manhwa. But it's all in good fun, let me know what ya'll think! Thanks for reading! See you later!)

[sugarskies]

shit, he's cute

summary: bob falls asleep on john. john has a crisis. word count: 1,094

The thing about Bob was that he could fall asleep anywhere.

As in, anywhere.

It did make sense if one stopped to think about it. By his own admission, Bob had been homeless for most of his adult life. Sometimes that meant couch surfing, sometimes it meant sleeping on the one park bench that didn’t have rails on it. He learned to settle in wherever he needed to.

Where all he slept wasn’t something John necessarily thought of until that night. Sure, he’d seen Bob passed out on the balcony, at the kitchen counter, even on the bench in the training room, but he never thought twice about it.

Not until that night when he had to add to the list: John Walker’s chest.

There were a lot of explanations for it that had nothing to do with John. Firstly, it took Bob several minutes to actually slide down that far. When he first started dozing off, he was leaned against the back of the couch. As time passed, he fell on John’s shoulder and eventually his chest.

Beyond that, it was really late, and the last movie in the trilogy they decided to watch was surprisingly boring. So boring that Ava walked out less than halfway through. It was really a wonder that John hadn’t fallen asleep yet too. Then again, how could he?

Maybe he would have if Bob wasn’t on top of him, his messy curls tickling the bottom of John’s beard. His left hand was tucked under his side, his right set softly on John’s abdomen. How could John possibly fall asleep when his shoulder was so uncomfortable from being forcibly lifted on Bob’s side; when Bob’s gentle snores seemed louder than the movie?

John had every right to roll Bob off his body. Every right to slide out as quietly as possible, or to just stand up and let him fall where he fell. And he did try. He lifted his arm and started to slip off the couch but stopped when Bob stirred. Bob groaned quietly, shifted his nose into John’s chest as his hand gripped the fabric of his t-shirt, and John’s immediate thought was,

Shit, he’s cute.

That was the thought that got him spiraling. The unexpected observation that made him remember and overanalyze everywhere else that Bob had fallen asleep. Because he couldn’t be special. Bob didn’t lean on John because he was John, he was just getting comfortable in his random place of the day.

(And John definitely didn’t think Bob was cute. It was just really late, and he’d had a couple drinks, and his brain was confusing words or feelings or something.)

So, instead of sliding out or rolling Bob off him, John stayed put. He kept watching the movie and maybe his fingers slipped once or twice to play with Bob’s hair, but it was just because he was so goddamn bored. That was also why he couldn’t describe the plot—not because he kept looking at Bob instead of the screen.

Desperate to watch something more interesting (or distracting), John reached his left arm as far as he could toward the chair Ava had sat in. She left the remote behind and he was just too far away to reach it. He sighed as he sank back, the couch wobbling beneath him.

“Hm?” Bob squinted as he yawned. He brought his right hand to his face and rubbed his eye. For a split second, John felt sad for the loss of the warmth on his abdomen. Then Bob put his hand back down and squeezed the fabric again. “Sorry. Think I fell asleep.”

“You didn’t miss anything worth watching,” said John.

Bob nodded against his chest, his eyes mostly closed again already. John started to move his arm, but Bob shifted, leaned into it like he wanted him to stay. “Where’s Ava?”

“She went to bed. Back when you were still on the other side of the couch.”

“Oh.” He took a few slow, deep breaths before he spoke again, his words slurring sleepily. “Want me to move back?”

Please don’t, was John’s first thought.

“You don’t have to,” was what he said.

“‘K.”

They fell back into silence as Bob’s eyes drifted shut. John turned his attention back to the shitty movie, tried to ignore the way his heart pounded just slightly. If he thought too hard, he might remember how it felt to stargaze with Olivia, might realize the butterflies in his stomach were the same.

He twisted his arm, his fingertips grazing the surface of Bob’s skin. It was surprising how soft it was. John had always thought of men’s skin being rough like his, like his brothers in arms’, and Bob’s wasn’t. It was smooth, silky, warm.

“Sorry,” Bob mumbled, and John’s face flushed at the realization he’d spoken the last part aloud. “I know I run hot.”

Very hot, John thought, his gaze drifting to the sliver of exposed skin between Bob’s shirt and sweatpants. Then he shook his head, kicked himself internally, because what the fuck was happening to him.

Before John could think of a response, Bob sat up, only to wince and lean back down again. He pressed his forehead against John’s shoulder, his fingers on his temples.

“One second,” he whispered, and John could have stayed like that forever. “Head rush.”

“No hurry,” John breathed.

It took every ounce of John’s strength not to wrap his arms around Bob, not to pull him in closer and ask him not to move. He kept his mouth shut when Bob pulled away and stumbled to his feet. He stretched his arms as he yawned and stepped back from the couch.

“I’m gonna go lay down,” Bob said. He rubbed his hands under his eyes and smiled sleepily. “Night, John.”

“Night, Bob.”

John sank back into the couch when Bob left the common area. Somehow, though he was in the same seat as most nights, he suddenly felt like something was missing. Maybe he just needed somewhere to put his arms. He grabbed a pillow from the opposite cushion and wrapped his arms around it.

It wasn’t warm. It wasn’t soft. It didn’t have the weight to make him feel like he was in the safest place on Earth.

He tossed the pillow on the floor and stood up to grab the remote. He shut the TV off without a moment’s hesitation. There was no reason to keep staring at the screen, to keep pretending he was watching that shitty movie.

Not without Bob.

[shepscapades]

〚 UNGLUED 〛DBHC: ETHO’s Official Playlist

Finally, Etho’s finished playlist is here!! This really feels like the culmination of Etho’s story built over the years and finally put down on paper, so below the cut is a detailed plot breakdown of every single song on this playlist—a small love letter from me to everyone who has been so supportive of this story and my art!

Also, I’ve uploaded WIP versions of every other DBHC playlist I currently have in the works to the account in the link, so if you’re interested in what songs are currently on other characters’ playlists, I’ll be updating the playlists on the 'Shepscapades' account every other week or so ;)

Thank you again to everyone who has been so patient with me over the years and who has been so kind and supportive! <3

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I came here for the silly haha doodles, but I've stayed for the absolutely blazing commentary in the tags. Your analysis of this story is so so so good! Thanks for all the work and thought you put into this!

I am just a silly little comics blog. I am not hiding anything in the tags, no way. Never.

[rubiehart]

bsf!jj would literally pull your tampon out if it ever got stuck

i’m giggling imaging this cuz it’s so silly. he’s the only person at the chateau and you’re fucking panicking so you go into him like got a little problem need your help… and he’s all ears obviouslyyy!! until ur leant over the sink legs spread apart, bottom half completely bare whilst jj stands behind you… spreading ur cheeks to get a good look at it.. tutting when he sees that it’s literally jammed, he’s also turned on BEYOND belief cuz he can see your pussy clenching around nothing in the cold bathroom. “can you see it?” you ask, shuffling a little on your socked feet.

“uh, yeah. ‘s pretty jammed, i gotta say.” he sniffs, readjusting his hands on you to keep you spread, youre leaning your forearms on the cold sink as you hear him cough awkwardly. “i mean.. i could probably get it.. just gotta get up there.. can i?” he’s asks and you just nod, involuntarily clenching as you mutter out a “yeah.” he eventually gets it out, not mentioning how you were leaking on his hand the whole time.. pulling your panties back up and giving him a fistbump. “thanks dude.” and it’s just never mentioned again??

[spookyratking]

This is only if you could use ideas rn but you know how Gigi from Dandy's World is based on those gacha capsules? I think she probably tries to add chance to random stuff for fun like baking. So I thought it’d be cool if Gigi baked like a cake or pie with an enigma candy and excitedly watches it bake while cosmo and/or sprout watches concerningly

I was about to draw sprout and cosmos reaction to actually eating the cake but I remembered Im lazy so take this