#vaguely human shaped eye blob

[jcryptid]

*Bolts upright in bed at 2am* Holy ShIT TMA Swan Lake AU but Jon is a fucking monster cat thing!!!!!

[mlm-writer]

The Mountain God (Choi Soobin x GN!Reader)

Pairing: Choi Soobin x Gender Neutral Reader Rating: Mature Words: 1998 POV: Second Summary: The Big Tober Day 31 - Folklore Note: Inspired by this song (open after reading if you don't want any spoilers). Reader is an adult and is mentioned to have dating experience. Check out this cover of the song btw. Tags: horror(?), maybe more of a thriller?, some action, first meeting, kissing and dancing under the moonlight<3, fluff and mentioned character death

The dry leaves crunched under your foot as you found your way into another clearing. Cold air hurt your throat as you struggled breathing from your hike. Once again your tent and your friends were nowhere to be found. “It was somewhere around here…” You mumbled to yourself. You moved your torch around, the bright white light only showing you more and more trees. “Taehyun-ah! Yeojun-ah!” You called out for your friends. No one answered your call under the tall trees and light of the full moon. A puff of air visualised itself in front of your mouth. You trudged on to the closest path. It was supposed to be just a quick piss, so you didn’t bring your phone. Kakao maps would’ve been great by now. 

In the distance your light reflected off white strips of fabric hanging from the low-hanging tree branches. You squinted your eyes, double-checking their presence. Then, a large blob of white seemed to move under one of the trees. You cautiously slowed your pace, narrowing your eyes in the dark in the hope of acquiring a clearer vision. When you discerned a vaguely human shape, you felt relieved. Surely the other guy would have a phone. Who nowadays did not have one? 

You quickened your pace. “Excuse me? I’m lost, can you help me?” The figure, which sat on his knees by a large tree, turned towards you as you approached. His handsome and innocent face greeted you with a big smile. White teeth that matched the strips of fabric around him welcomed you on this cold night. Though the smile was such a stark white, it warmed your chest. 

His beauty was so unexpected, you slowed to a still. “Lost? This late? You are really fearless,” he commented. He let out a chuckle and grabbed a wooden cup from next to him. “Come have a drink, how long have you been lost for?” You frowned at his odd behaviour, but you slowly walked closer nonetheless, your grip on your torch tight. If he turned out to be a creep, you could whack him across the head with it. At least that was the plan you had cooked up in those few seconds you had to come up with one. 

When you stood next to him, you saw the cup held some liquid with leaves floating on top. They did not seem like tea leaves to you, but rather like the leaves that scattered the ground as well. There was no steam coming from the liquid either. “No thanks, I’ve only been walking around for a few minutes. Can I use your phone to send my location to my friends?” You looked him over. His white clothes looked like that of a buddhist. The red beads around his wrist confirmed it. The clothes were a little dirty, indicating he had been a while in the mountains as well. 

The man kept that same sun-blessed smile on his face as he put the cup down. “My phone? Sorry, I left it at the temple, since I just came out to pray.” He gestured to the stone statues that sat by the large tree. He had indeed been kneeling right in front of them. 

“Oh sorry, I interrupted your prayer,” you quickly apologised with a polite bow. You took a step back and gestured for him to continue. You didn’t know there was a temple on this mountain that was still in use. Most of them were historic sites that were just used to attract tourists. Mostly artists came to them nowadays to draw and paint the well-preserved temples of the mountain god. 

The man shook his hand and stood up. “Don’t worry about it. A traveller in need is more important. Not helping you would be more against my beliefs.” Now he was standing, you realised he was really tall. His lips were stretched in a smaller, but no less kind smile. “I’m Choi Soobin. If you come to the temple, I can lend you my phone.” You bowed to him and gave him your name. He repeated it with his gentle voice. Your name had never sounded this heavenly. 

“So what did you come to do here? Just camping with your friends?” Soobin asked after a minute of silent walking. He was holding no torch. You assumed he was used to walking the path to the temple and needed no visual aide aside from the moonlight that reached the ground with ease during this season. 

“We came to see the total lunar eclipse. The best view is away from the city. You live in the temple?” Soobin hummed, confirming your assumption. He then asked about your friends, your life. It was easy to talk to him. He did not share much about himself, other than his age and the first time he went to the mountain. They said the mountain god guarded the mountain, but even a god got hungry. Soobin’s friends dared him to spend the night, but he left his tent halfway through when he heard a growling in the distance. When he got you on the proverbial edge of your seat with his scary story, he gave you a jumpscare. You hit him and laughed. 

You almost forgot you were not on a beautiful and romantic night stroll when the old wooden gates appeared at the end of the small mountain path. This place was long due some renovation, but you didn’t mention it. “Here we are,” Soobin stated as you stood before the closed doors. He seemed almost sad that you had arrived. 

“Are you a priest?” You asked out of nowhere, the look on his face all too familiar to you. You had your fair share of dates and that was the face of a man who wanted to kiss you. 

Soobin shook his head, his fluffy black hair flopping around with the movement. “No, just… a pilgri-” You did not let him finish. You found the way to the back of his neck; you pulled him down, your lips meeting his. He was cold, extremely so. Not surprising, since his white clothes seemed to not be all that thick. You were happy to warm this poor pilgrim up. When you pulled back, your eyes met his wide-spread ones. “Traveller-nim, let me dance with you.” 

You laughed as you took a step back. “With what music?” You questioned him. He seemed to clearly have no answer to that. “Besides, you’re ice cold. You should go inside to warm up.” 

Soobin swallowed thickly. Then his frigid hand took yours. He started singing, swaying you around on the small path. You turned your torch off, letting the moonlight show you his captivating eyes and alluring lips. Soobin’s voice could be deep and intimate or light like a fairy. Your heart swayed along with each step taken. It was when the night got a little darker, that you remembered your friends. “Oh! The eclipse will start soon.” You stopped to look up at the sky. Soobin quickly opened the temple doors and gestured for you to enter. He seemed to remember your friends waiting on you too. 

You followed him inside, but when the gates closed behind you, something seemed off. There was only light from the fires that surrounded a large courtyard. Two glistening red lights seemed to watch you from the darkness inside a building. “Is everyone else sleeping?” You inquired, turning around to face Soobin. He was leaning against the doors, his head hung low and his black bangs covering his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Soobin whispered, voice quivering. The moonlight drained away and was replaced with the red light of the total lunar eclipse. In the light of the blood moon, everything was different. Soobin looked up, but his face was no longer what it was. Those captivating eyes that looked at you like he wanted to kiss you forever under the moonlight were now glowing red, the sclerae all black. His deep-sunken eyes stared directly into your soul. A second pair of slightly smaller eyes appeared underneath the first pair, just beside his nostrils. They all stared down at you as a smile forced itself onto his ghastly face. You had seen many smiles from him, but nothing like this. It turned your own blood cold, all heat draining from your body. You took a step back in fear, but froze when there was a voice behind you. 

“Well done, Soobin-ah. It seems you finally will be able to move on to the next life,” came the growling voice from the building where you had seen the red lights. You dared to glance around. From the darkness stepped a monstrously huge tiger into the red light. Its great fangs were bared for you to witness. You backed away, your back eventually hitting Soobin’s cold, rigid body. 

“Soobin-sshi, what’s going on?” His ghoulishly icy hands grabbed you by the shoulders. He whispered another apology, before pushing you towards the tiger. The beast circled you, a deep, mocking chuckle coming from its hungry mouth. 

“You had me concerned there for a moment, Soobin-ah. You have backed out so many times. You really want to pass on, don’t you?” You were hugging your torch to your chest, trembling in fear as the tiger spoke. “And such a nice, young prey you have chosen for me too… I can see your long life thread and I will delight in snapping it.” You repeated your earlier question, screaming it now with more panic in your voice. The tiger laughed at you derisively. “Let me explain it to you, traveller.” Every word coming from the mountain god gave you the shivers. “Soobin was once like you, unafraid of me and my lands. He died that night he told you about.” You swallowed thickly, casting glances at the ghost that you kissed. “Those that find their end in my stomach must serve me for eternity. The only way for them to pass on to the next life is to bring me a prey that will replace them.” The tiger took a deep sniff of you, like you were a steaming pot of stew on the fire. “Do you get it now?” 

The terror forced the tears from your eyes. Your voice trembled in your last plea. “Please, spare me.” You forced the words past your trembling lips, each word strained and vibrating with dread. It was the last Soobin could handle. He suddenly dashed forward, slamming his body into that of the tiger. It was taken off guard, the beast sliding away from you across the courtyard. In that small window of opportunity, the ghost took your hand and dragged you through the doors, back onto the small path you took to get here. His footsteps were inhumanly quick and you struggled to keep up. However, the growling and roaring of a tiger behind you was great motivation. 

“Listen to me, go back to the tree where we met. Climb as far as you can. Amitābha protects that tree and will protect you. Stay there until sunrise.” Though he still looked like a demon, you saw the angelic man you met earlier that night in those devilish eyes. You could only nod at his instructions. He sent you ahead with a gust of wind and before you realised how, you found yourself in that tree, awaiting sunrise. 

When your friends found you the next day, you did not have the words to explain what happened last night, nor why you were in the tree. You chose to say nothing, fearing that sharing the story as truth would end with you in a psych ward. You would wonder if it was all just a nightmare or hallucination, were it not for the beads that had appeared on your wrist. Sometimes, when you glanced at them and the light hit it just right, a familiar smile reflected off the red wood that adorned your wrist. 

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[wreckmetoji]

Angel Eyes, Cold Heart

A fic in which you face the music after sleeping with your local priest

↳ Nicholas D. Wolfwood/M!Reader

content warning. amab reader, profanity, so much religion, religious guilt, mention of alcohol, hangover, smoking, blood, angst, anal fingering, anal sex, spit kink if you squint(we call that the eden special), creampie, soft wolfwood makes me weak in the knees

This is a purely self-indulgent fic. Please note that even though this is a reader insert, this isn’t my usual vague reader insert. This reader is heavily based off of me and my own experiences. If the idea of any of these content warnings make you uncomfortable or are off putting, I suggest checking out a different fic. 

minors DNI

A continuation of Reach Out and Touch Faith. Part 2/2 (Part 1)

8.5k words

Red, yellow, and blue light glowed, blinding you and blurring your vision, rendering you completely incapable of differentiating the vaguely human shaped blobs in front of you. Wiping your hands down your face, scrubbing at your eyes, you squinted and blinked, desperate to get some semblance of sight to ground yourself before you began to panic, heart racing and breathing quick. One of the blobs stepped forward, and it was as if it had walked through a filter, the closer they got the clearer they became, behind them the others followed. The tall, tanned man you had grown to know a little too well became clear, looking down at you with molten disdain, contempt, a disgusted scrunch of his nose as he stood, body unmoving. His lips were moving, but you couldn't hear what he was saying, too focused on the amount of people coming into view, surrounding you in a circle. No, it wasn't that you were distracted, there was nothing. No noise, no sound, they all spoke but you were deaf to their words. Desperately, you lunged forwards, grabbing at the apparition in front of you, only for everything to fade away, dissipate like smoke. You began to cry, looking around frantically for anything, anyone, and upon finding nothing but seemingly endless nothingness, tears falling as you cried, begged, pleaded, only for no sound to come out.

Upon sinking to your knees, screaming in the silence, gaping for air, your eyes shot open with a gasp. Above you was an unfamiliar ornate wooden ceiling, shining colors from the stained glass window behind and above you stretching and cascading down your body. The first thing you registered was the pattering of rain against a window, the second was your absolutely raging headache, and had you not dealt with copious hangovers before you would assume your brain was melting out of your ears. With a shaky breath, you lifted your hands, placing them over your ears, then pulling them away, testing your auditory capabilities. A dream, it was a dream. A deep breath in, and a deep breath out, you reached up, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes and rubbing. It had been a while since you had such a vivid dream, you were still able to see the unadulterated disgust behind his gaze. Clenching your jaw, you vaguely recalled the happenings of the previous night, fingertips feeling the cotton gauze pad taped on the bridge of your nose.

Wolfwood had rejected your advances. You don't know why you did what you did, you expected that to be his reaction, considering he was so adamant on barely having anything to do with you, and you him, after you had initially slept together. He kissed you back, tongue down your throat, leaning you back against the couch. When he nestled himself between your thighs, you were convinced maybe he was just as desperate for you as you were for him, the roll of his hips against your inner thigh proving that he wanted something more. Just as you had reached past the waistband down the front of his pants, grazing your fingers against his cock, he was snatching up your wrist, pulling your hand away. He parted from your lips, a string of spit connecting you for a moment longer before it snapped, dropping to your glossy lower lip. You were confused, asking him what was wrong, asking if you were the problem, but all he said was I can't do this with you. You didn't think you could get punched by any more psychological damage on the issue, considering you had gone through most of the motions of grief over your first mistake by this point, but the pang in your chest and lump in your throat proved you wrong. He was courteous enough to walk you back to the room, but he never walked past the threshold of the door, simply standing in place and watching until you closed yourself in, opting to ignore your pitiful sorrows by curling up and going to sleep.

Considering the light streaming through the window was minimal, you let yourself relax a little before braving a look at the time, whether that was from the copious amounts of rain clouds or it being too early for the sun to even comprehend coming out, you couldn't tell. With the realization of fuck it's cloudy, you shot up into a sitting position, turning your wrist to look down at the time on your watch. 9:42 AM.

You've got to be fucked.

Scrambling to get your bearings, you launched yourself off of the bed, foot getting caught on the blankets and sending you tumbling to the floor. The weight of your body slamming into hardwood made the room shake, but you didn't have the time to be phased by it. That goddamn priest told you he was going to take you to work in the morning, maybe it was your fault he didn't bother because you had stupidly tried to sleep with him again. You couldn't even be mad at anyone but yourself if that was the case. With a groan, you pushed yourself up off the floor, flinging audible curses at the piece of thick fabric that tripped you as you picked yourself up and snatched your phone off the side table- had you left it there last night? Stuffing it into your pocket and completely ignoring the pills and tall glass of water sitting so nicely for you on the side table, you jogged to the door, hand fumbling with the knob before flinging yourself into the hallway. Coming to a skidding halt at the tall, broad chest blocking your path, a mug filled with coffee in one hand and a pill bottle in the other. You had to stop bumping into him like this.

Lips parted, you looked up at him, seeing the confused arch of his brow. It made you so unreasonably angry seeing him so nonchalant, unbothered, acting like nothing happened when everything was fucking wrong, everything was crumbling around you and he just acted like nothing was out of place. But to him, everything was fine, wasn't it? You were the mess, you were the walking train wreck, but it could still aggravate you that his world kept turning, his days continued. You had so many things to ask him lodged in the back of your throat.

Why didn't you wake me up?

Why did you pick me up from the bar?

How did you find me?

Why doesn't any of this bother you as much as it bothers me?

A small noise left your throat, the starting of a sentence that most likely would've made less than zero sense considering you could barely think without your brain throbbing and threatening to explode, but you were interrupted by a hot mug of coffee being pushed into your chest. Gentle enough that it didn't spill, but hard enough that it had you taking a quick step back. Growing more visibly confused as he continued to stand in your way, unmoving, offering you a lifeline to help stave off your raging hangover with no concern to the outside world. Finally you found your voice, but it came out scratchy and hoarse, and only managed to push out one syllable. "What...?"

"Called in for you. Knew you wouldn't be fit to work today," Wolfwood explained, as if it made complete sense that he knew exactly where you worked and who to talk to to call in for you. It only served to confuse you more, even more questions popping up in the back of your mind as your hands clasped around the hot mug. "You look like shit."

"Thanks, I feel like shit." You grumbled, frowning down at the pitch black liquid in your grip. "Probably the worst hangover I've had."

"Might have something to do with trying to open doors with your face, unless you do that often," Wolfwood jibed, crossing his arms and leaning a shoulder up against the wall. You huffed a sardonic laugh and shook your head, wincing at the sharp throb in your frontal lobe. Once you finally willed yourself to look back up at him, you noted the frown on his face and the way he bit the inside of his cheek.

An unwilling staring contest, both of you waiting for the other to say something. After some time, you took a sip of the coffee graciously given to you, and came to the conclusion you weren't going to get any answers out of him if you didn't ask questions. Briefly you wondered if his don't ask don't tell personality was a priest thing, or something just Wolfwood. You decided to break the silence, clearing your throat and asking a hesitant, "Can we...?" You nudged your head in the direction of his kitchen, "Sit down and talk, maybe?"

With a nod, Wolfwood took lead and walked down the hall, around a corner, through an arch, and pulled one of two chairs out from his minimalistic dining table, if it could even be considered that. You pursed your lips, watching him take his seat, before sitting across from him, resting your cup down on the pale wooden surface. You weren't sure where to start, what questions to ask first, your scrambled thoughts quickly coming to a stop when the pill bottle he had in his hand was tapped down on the table and slid in your direction. Muttering a quiet thanks, you popped the cap, shaking out maybe one or two more than necessary and tossing them in your mouth, regrettably washing them down with the bitter coffee hotter than the deepest pits of Hell. Wincing again, you saw Wolfwood reach down in your peripherals, the shake of a small box urging you to look up and watch as he placed a cigarette between his lips, placing the pack on the table before sparking his lighter to life. He paused, the flame flickering and swaying just inches away from his cigarette as he eyed you up and down. A small smile pulled at the corner of your lips when he slid the mostly empty pack in your direction inquisitively, earning a shake of your head and a raised palm. He hummed, shrugging his shoulders as he lit the cherry at the end, clicking the cap of his zippo back into place.

The smile curling at the edge of your lips quickly fell again upon realizing you would have to voice your worries and concerns sooner rather than later, swallowing the lump forming in your throat and looking back down at your coffee. "I... I'm... Not really sure where to start," You breathed a laugh, mostly just from the nerves. "I don't know what to say."

"Take your time," Wolfwood assured, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Got all day."

The thought of having to spend all day in this communicative limbo made you want to vomit. Or maybe it was the hangover. Could be both.

A heavy sigh fell from your lips, propping your elbows up on the table and resting your palms over your face, rubbing. "I guess first thing is first, just because I'm genuinely curious, how the fuck did you call in for me?"

"Charged your phone, went through it. Found your boss' contact."

Pulling your head back from your hands, you stared at him incredulously. "You- what? There's a passcode on it!"

Wolfwood snickered at this, bringing his cigarette back up to his lips and smirking at you. Okay, guess you weren't going to get any more answers in regards to that. You muttered a disingenuous insult under your breath, sipping at your coffee which had not cooled down in the slightest. "Alright, fine," You sighed, rolling your eyes and leaning back. Deliberately avoiding the elephant in the room, you asked another question that certainly wasn't as important as the one hanging off the end of your tongue, "How'd you know where to find me last night? Pretty sure I didn't tell you where I was when we were on the phone, and my mom doesn't know."

His immediate reaction told you the question made him uncomfortable, or at the very least nervous, his eyes glancing off to the side before moving back to land on you. "You want the truth, or you want some bullshit excuse like 'lucky guess'?"

Furrowing your brows at his question, you held your hands up, frowning. "The truth, obviously."

"I went looking for you."

The statement in itself was relatively innocent, making his initial question all the more suspicious. Another gesture of your hand, rolling your wrist in a circle, urging him to continue had him grumbling, his hand rubbing at the scruff on his jaw.

"I heard the music on the phone with you, so I assumed you were out. Borrowed a car from a friend 'cause the weather was shit-"

"You don't drive?" You smirked, interrupting.

"I do drive, you little shit, just not a car," Wolfwood huffed, giving you a look of warning. Holding your hands up in faux defense, he glanced off and continued. "Drove around for about an hour, checking restaurants, pubs, bars," He crossed his arms, slouching back in his seat, "Gotta hand it to you, wasn't expecting a prissy thing like you to be holed up in the shittiest dive in town. It was my last stop, the last of my ditch effort, I was expecting to come out empty-handed. Lo and behold, there you were, sat at the bar all pretty 'n tanked outta your mind."

Rolling your eyes at him again, you felt your cheeks heat up, decidedly ignoring his backhanded compliment that you were more than certain were meant to bother you. "Yeah, thanks. I do remember that much."

Everything fell quiet again as he awaited your next question, one you knew you had to ask, one you wanted to ask but dreaded the implication behind it, dreaded the answer you were going to get, dreaded the trajectory of your life after the words fell from your lips. Hands reached forwards, one over top of the other and flat against the table as you glanced at the pack of cigarettes, then down at your hands. Your brows raised when a hand came into your vision, half-burnt cigarette held between tanned fingers. Surprised by his ability to notice such a small detail, you pursed your lips in a fake smile, graciously placing it between your lips, breathing in, then handing it back just as quick. Upon exhaling, you clenched your jaw, pondering over the words rattling around inside your brain. I want to know what we are, what we were, what that was.

"So, you don't drive a car- what do priests drive?" You asked instead, putting on a teasing front and glancing up at him through your lashes. He didn't answer, only stared at you, into you, and the prospect that he knew what you wanted to say instead made you want to jump out the nearest window. Silence, only the patter of rain against the skylight echoing through the room, haunting your thoughts and making you nervous.

"That's not really what you want to ask, is it?" Wolfwood confirmed your fears, and once again you had to mentally commend him for being so perceptive, almost like he knew you better than you knew yourself. Maybe that was a priest thing, but something in the back of your mind told you that no, he really just was so in tune to you and how you were feeling. He knew exactly what you meant, even when you said the opposite, knew the words left unsaid hanging in the air were more than just simple things you didn't want to say. He seemed to recognize your continued silence as involuntary, more an inability to say the words you had on your mind than an unwillingness. So instead, he filled the silence.

"I got a question for you too," He prefaced, bringing his cigarette up to his lips and breathing in, bright red cherry flaring up before he dropped the nearly finished cigarette in an empty mug beside him. "Why'd you stop coming to your confessionals?"

All you could do was stare at him, dumbfounded, as if he had asked the most ridiculously stupid question you had the pleasure of hearing. And it was, genuinely. "You can't be serious? I think you're smart enough to put two and two together, Father."

"Just Nick is fine," He corrected you, not giving you a chance to snap some snarky reply before he continued, "Got what you wanted, didn't see a point in coming anymore, 's that it?"

"What?!" Your volume was much louder than intended, probably only hurting your own head more than anything. "The fuck do you mean I got what I wanted? You make it sound like I just fucking ghosted you after you slept with me!" Throwing your hands up, you glared into him, watching his downturned brows scrunch slightly. "This would be a lot easier if you just admit it was all a ploy to get more fucking money out of my family, if not this entire community. Oh, what a hero you would be, fixing the town pariah, converting him to a good, church-going young gentleman. The priest that could accomplish the impossible, right? This was your goal the entire time, right?"

In your heated tangent, you didn't realize you had stood, palms flat on the table as you stared down at him. You realized he wasn't going to say anything, so you scoffed, leaning back. "Real dick move. Original, I'm sure not a lot of priests have your creativity to increase their numbers, meet their fucking quota or whatever, but I'm not gonna sit here and take your bullshit laying down. You and your stupid fucking religion are morally corrupt, it's a cancer on society and I'll be damned if I sit by and watch you-"

"Can you finish your little tantrum already?"

Immediately your anger flared up, letting out a frustrated shout as you stormed out of the kitchen and down the hall. You'd find your clothes and get the fuck out of here. This was absolutely ridiculous, the fact you managed to wedge yourself in such a position made you want to scream. Barging through the door of the bathroom, you glanced around, seeing no plastic bag in sight. You grumbled, walking down the hall and into the bedroom you had resided in for the night, doing a quick sweep of the area, finding nothing. You were seconds away from saying fuck it and cabbing home shoeless in a priest's lounge clothes. Spinning on your heel, you saw Wolfwood standing in the threshold of the door, holding neatly folded clothes in one hand. Your gaze softened at the care in which your clothes seemed to be handled, and washed, only for a second before falling back into a frustrated downturn. Being raised with decent manners had you wanting to thank him, but the side of you that was just pulled along for his church propaganda was screaming for you to tell him to go fuck himself. Approaching him, you reached out, going to nab at your clothes before he was lifting them up and back, keeping them just out of your reach.

"Fuck you," You spat, reaching up and trying again to grab your clothes, only for the same thing to happen. Cursing again, louder this time, you grabbed a fist full of the front of his shirt, trying to tug him down so you could reach the fabric being held just out of your grasp. "I can not fucking believe I let you string me along for this shit. I can't believe I thought, maybe, you were a decent fucking person, and you had decent fucking morals outside your own shitty church propaganda. I almost- almost had feelings for you!" Frustrated tears stung at your eyes, finally pulling back and giving him a shove in return. He was stable, sturdy, and barely moved even when you put a decent amount of force behind it. "What the fuck do you want from me? Give me my goddamn clothes back so I can get out of here."

"I didn't want to push you away," Wolfwood spoke low, and all you could do was scoff incredulously. "I didn't. I didn't want to brush you off, but what was I supposed to do? You wanted to talk in the middle of Sunday Service, pulling me aside for privacy or not don't you think that's a little suspicious to anyone that's looking?" Lowering his hand, you were quick to act, snatching up your pants and belt, button-down falling to the floor. Wolfwood huffed a derisive laugh, catching your arm in his hand before you could bend over and pick it up. "I wanted to talk, work something out with you-"

Yanking your arm away, you scrunched your nose at him. "Eat shit, no you didn't. You had plenty of opportunities-"

"When? You stopped coming to your confessionals, which is when I was planning on mentioning something. You leave before service is over so I can't pull you aside," Wolfwood reached out again, hand encasing your wrist as you watched him.

"Then what about last night? You can't do that stuff with me, but you wanted to work something out?"

"I wasn't going to fuck you when you were drunk out of your goddamn mind!" Wolfwood raised his voice, tightening his grip on your wrist. "I wanted to, fuck- you have no idea how bad I wanted to," He lowered his voice, dropping your wrist and letting his arm swing back to his side. "But do you think I could ever fuckin' forgive myself if you didn't actually want that, if I just took advantage of the fact you were drunk and I was just there-" He bent over, picking your shirt up off the floor as you stared at him with suspicious eyes. Holding it out, you locked eyes, blinking up at him as you searched and inspected for any signs of dishonesty, almost hoping you could catch him in a lie. If he was lying, that means that none of this was your fault. If he was lying, that means you weren't the reason everything went to shit, and you wouldn't have to shoulder the guilt of putting both of you in an unnecessary and stressful situation.

His eyes were honest, though, and the realization you had been reading things wrong this entire time was a burden nearly too heavy to bear. When you made no move to grab your shirt from him, he stepped closer, placing the now disheveled material in your arms with the rest of your clothes. You took a deep breath, the exhale getting caught in your throat when two fingers hooked under your chin, tilting your head back and up at a more easily accessible angle. The pad of his thumb pressed into your bottom lip, smoothing over it, caressing a line from the corner of your mouth down to your jaw as he leaned in.

"Does the 'social pariah' wanna give the 'morally corrupt cancer on society' another shot?" Wolfwood whispered, eyes half mast as he watched you, gazed into you, gauging your reaction. It was laughable, both throwing your insults back at you in playful jest, and the fact he wasn't deterred by your lack of communicative abilities. As you nodded, he was already leaning into you, nose brushing against yours making you flinch and grimace, placing the palm of your hand over his mouth and push back slightly. He gave you an inquisitive look, almost concerned, to which you could only smile.

"Still feel like shit. Didn't really wake up under the best circumstances, didn't get to brush my teeth," You explained, to which he laughed into your palm, standing at his full height again. Grabbing at the clothes in your arms, Wolfwood tossed them on top of his dresser, grabbing you by the shoulders and ushering you out of the room and towards the bathroom. Giving you a gentle shove inside, he reached up into the wall mounted cabinet, taking out a toothbrush and toothpaste, slapping them down on the counter and leaning his shoulder up against the door frame, hands in his pockets. You laughed again at his eagerness, hand reaching out for the toothbrush before making a face.

"Is this yours?" You accused, shooting him a side glance.

"... Yes?"

"You expect me to use your tooth brush? It's already used." You huffed, mostly teasing, but the thought did make you cringe.

"Oh, that's where you draw the line?" Wolfwood jibed, reaching over your head into the cabinet again, pulling out a package. By the time he was peeling the paper backing off, you were already running his tooth brush under the tap water, squirting on a glob of toothpaste with a malevolent grin.

"Fuckin' brat," He grumbled, tossing the half opened package onto the counter as he waited for you to finish brushing your teeth. At some point it became uncomfortable, how close he was watching you, and when it came time to spit you made a spinning motion with your hand, to which he blatantly ignored.

"What's your problem?" You garbled around the tooth brush, shyly spitting into the sink and rinsing off your face, careful not to get water on the cotton over your nose.

"Just enjoying the view," Wolfwood replied, nonchalant, smirking at the arch of your brow. "You look good when you got somethin' in your mouth."

Choking on your spit, you glared at him, met with nothing but his shit-eating grin you would never admit gave you butterflies. After rolling your eyes at him for the nth time that day, you rubbed at your eyes, deciding to inspect how shitty you actually looked in the mirror. The first thing to note was the shiner much more prominent under your right eye, peeking out from under the bandaging. It was red, only bits of purple here and there if you really squinted. Second to note was how absolutely fucking exhausted you looked, and after taking a few more seconds to examine, you hummed, "Wow, I do look like shit."

Wolfwood snickered a yeah, earning a half-hearted swat in his direction. Your hangover was far from gone, but you couldn't find it in you to care about the throbbing in your head from the overhead lights as you reached to smack him again when he so skillfully dodged the first, only to have him intercept your wrist mid-course, leaving you surprised he could anticipate your immediate reaction. His middle and index finger ran up your wrist, then your palm, parting your fingers and threading his own between the cracks, enclosing his fist over your palm. It wasn't that you had small hands, but the fact his palm and fingers could completely encase yours left your throat running dry, something that seemed to visibly amuse him. His other arm came around your waist, having him take a half step closer as he backed you up into the counter, craning his neck down and nudging your nose with his.

"I'm I permitted to kiss you now, princess?"

You barely managing to call him a smarmy fucker before he was pushing his lips into yours, knowing you wouldn't have given him a direct answer either way. It was smooth, languid, channeling all of the pent up frustration and anxiety into one action before it all melted away and made way for relief. Relief that everything was a miscommunication, lack of clarification from both of you that caused unnecessary hurt and turmoil. A kiss that, while not completely made up for lost time, would come close to it. The gentle caress of his thumb over the back of your hand took you by surprise, his touch moving up your arm, the pads of his fingers settling on your jaw and cheeks, squeezing slightly. Feeling defiant and spiteful, you tilted your head back, parting from him. He didn't let you move any further, fingers digging into your cheeks and tugging you back to his lips.

"No," Wolfwood grunted, lips molten, dripping with desire as he hooked his thumb in your mouth, prying your lips open and making room for his tongue. You'd like to say you put up a fight, but you were immediately putty in his hands, hands moving back to grip the bathroom counter to prevent your knees from buckling. When he parted, your breaths were heavy, cheeks ruddy, and he seemed pleased, running his tongue over his lip. "You don't get to be a brat, not after how you've been actin'."

The rebuttal you had lined up in your thoughts dried up when he pressed the pad on his thumb into your tongue, forcing it down as he kept your mouth open, your half lidded eyes watching his adam's apple bob as he swallowed. He was devouring you with his eyes, and you were only slightly concerned that your heart swelled at the thought of him wanting you even now, even after everything that happened, and even though you looked worse for wear, bandaged and bruised. You pressed your tongue up, adding to the pressure as you gently clamped your teeth down over his finger, looking up at him through your lashes. Sucking a breath through his teeth, Wolfwood tugged his thumb from your mouth, crushing his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. It was heavy, heated, and definitely more debauched tongue than sweet sincerity. A surprised noise left your throat when he scooped you up by your thighs, lifting you and placing you to sit on the bathroom counter. Upon doing so, he pressed the line of his body up against you, the already half-hard tent in his pants nudging your inner thigh. His hands came down to your outer thighs, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. You did, of course you did, heels digging into his legs and tugging him impossibly close. The groan that left his throat, only to be swallowed up by you, was enough to make your head spin.

"Fuck, you little tease," Wolfwood growled into you when he parted, yanking at the loose collar of your borrowed shirt to expose your clavicle, sucking, licking, and biting a line from the column of your throat down to the exposed skin of your shoulder. "Comin' to me last night when you knew I couldn't have you," He continued, biting down hard enough to make you yelp, your hand flying up to your mouth to muffle your noises. He intercepted, grip tight on your wrist as he forced it back to your side. He came back up, pressing a searing, hard kiss to your lips, before parting just as quick. "Throwin' yourself at me like that... You really want me to fuck you again that bad?"

Your cheeks and ears grew hot, peering up at him through half-lidded eyes, lips slightly parted, completely pliant and ready for him, earning a dark chuckle. Before you could register his touch, you felt fingers grasping at your hair at the back of your head, tugging back and forcing you to expose your throat, eyes wide and watery as you stared at the ceiling. Unaware that the moan echoing off the walls was in fact from you, your eyes slid shut, feeling his lips and canines graze your skin. Hands reached up, fists grappling onto the fabric of his shirt resting on his shoulders, trying to steady yourself between the onslaught of abuse to your neck and the pounding headache nagging at the back of your mind. The vice grip he had on your hair definitely didn't aid in the increasing intensity of your already brain-melting headache, but fuck did it feel good.

"Nick!" You gasped when he latched onto the soft skin under your ear, sinking his teeth into you. Eyes rolling back, your hands slid a trail down from his shoulders and chest, falling to the band of his pants. One hand continued down, dipping beneath the band, while the other pushed his shirt up enough to rest your hand on his hip, digging the pads of your fingers into the skin there. He groaned when you wrapped your fingers around his fully hard cock, his breath hot against your skin as he pulled back, brows furrowed and gaze sharp as he admired the colorful tapestry he had made, your skin the canvas and his mouth the paintbrush.

"Shit," Wolfwood breathed, glancing down at your hand working him in the confines of his pants, his hips pushing and pulling with every long drag of your hand. His hand released your hair, a pained groan leaving your lips as you tightened your grip around him, palm smoothing over the tip and gathering the slick precum before pushing back down faster. One hand claimed purchase on the edge of the counter beside your thigh, the other shoving down the front of his pants, just getting them past the curve of his ass, before mimicking the position of his other hand. His breaths were heavy, half-mast eyes staring into you with molten intensity that had your cock throbbing in your pants. You didn't get to admire for long, his palm coming up to circle the column of your throat, fingers gripping your jaw and tugging you into him, pre-emptively parting your lips to make way for his tongue, eyes sliding shut.

It was surprising how vocal he was, groaning into your open mouth when your hand moved faster, when your nails dug into the soft flesh of his hip, when you licked into his mouth. You paused, squeezing at the base, before dragging up painfully slow. You seemed to be wearing his patience thin, if the jerk of his hips and growl in his throat spoke for him. Smirking into your spit riddled debauched kiss, you did it again, moving up even slower this time. His free hand snatched at your wrist, lips pulling back as he leaned away. His lips were glistening with your shared spit, jaw slack as he panted, brows downturned as his nose scrunched, giving you a look strikingly similar to the one gracing his features when he burst into your side of the confessional. You swallowed, heart leaping into your throat and dick jumping in your pants.

"You're playing a dangerous game here, princess," Wolfwood snarled, slowly releasing your wrist, as if to give you a second chance. His mocking term of endearment made you huff a sardonic breath, quirking a brow at him as you repeated your previous motion that had earned you his word of warning in the first place, just to prove a point. Your hand barely got halfway up the length of him before you were being grabbed at the hips, your body hauled up and tossed over his shoulder like you weighed absolutely nothing. You yelled, surprised by the sudden display of strength your head pounding relentlessly at the sudden change in your center of gravity, blood rushing to your head. You swore at him, hurling pathetic insincere insults at him as he marched down the hall and through a door frame. If someone asked you why you decided landing a five-star, open palmed slap on his half exposed ass was a good idea before you were ungracefully dropped on the bed, you wouldn't be able to tell them. Your body hit the bed, the air leaving your lungs, pushing your torso up with your forearms. The pathetic attempt to ground yourself was useless, his hands grabbing at your hips and flipping you over, the feeling of your pants being yanked down making your eyes blow wide. Despite knowing you should have prepared yourself, should have expected it, the flat-palmed, unforgiving strike to your ass made you jolt and moan, slack jawed and debauched. It seemed both of you were equally surprised, your ears on fire as you slapped your hands over your mouth, expression shocked and bewildered, and suddenly you were so thankful you were face down in the bed, because you could feel the smug aura oozing off of him.

"Wasn't expecting that," Wolfwood derided, his palm smoothing over the spot he slapped, the skin still tingling. You wouldn't be surprised if there was a welt there later. "Want another one?"

Before you could choke out any kind of answer, another blow was landed over the exact same spot, followed by another depraved moan bubbling up your throat. His chuckle barely registered, your ears ringing as you open-mouth panted into your hands, eyes half lidded as you felt him grip a handful of your ass, spreading you for him. The thought of him seeing you so shameless made you roll your hips, the friction of your cock being trapped between your thigh and the bed ripping a raspy moan from your throat. Your dissolute actions came to a halt, body tensing and shoulders seizing when an incredibly cold and wet sensation dripped onto your asshole, his hand leaving its spot on your skin. Yelping, your hands flew down to the bed, gripping the sheets on either side of your head, turning to look back at him. Surprised to see him staring down at you shirtless with clouded eyes, eyes locking, one hand fisting his cock at a slow pace, the other throwing the sizeable bottle of lube to the other side of the bed, your cheeks flushed, swallowing as he ran his tongue over his teeth in a predatory display. Watchful eyes trailed his hand, heart racing as his palm smoothed over your hip, trailing towards your lower back, sliding up the line of your spine, before grabbing a fist full of your hair, shoving your upper body back down onto the bed. Your eyes watered when your sensitive nose collided with the mattress, eyes scrunching shut as your body tensed for a second time, a pained moan lodged in your throat. Wolfwood seemed more perceptive of your half-hearted woes than you thought, his grip loosening as he gently tousled your hair, scratching your head once, twice, before following the same line down, a finger circling around your hole, gathering up the surrounding lube.

Breathing a low moan when his finger pressed into you, your eyes fluttered shut, pressing your hips back into his hand. The sudden movement had your impossibly hard cock rubbing up against the soft sheets again, aligning in such a way that it was pressed down, trapped between your legs and peeking out from between your thighs. Some of the lube had dribbled down, the warm, wet drip making your thighs tense, biting your lip to choke back a moan. Your fingers clenched, balling your fists and gripping the sheets below you as he pressed in a second finger, leaving you little time to adjust. Regardless, your eyes rolled back, lips parting to huff out a wanton moan as he pulled his fingers out, before pushing back in, curling down. Yelping, you gripped the sheets tighter in your fists as he rubbed at the spongy spot inside you, shoulders tensing as his lubed up cock slid against the curve of your ass just above your thigh. The steady roll of his hips, followed by the low groan that left his lips, had your head fogging over, pushing back harder into his hand to urge him to go faster, deeper. He didn't seem to be keen on giving in to your silent begging, his fingers moving painstakingly slow against your most sensitive spots, similar to how you had been teasing him in the bathroom. It wouldn't be the first time you were put in your place due to your own hubris, but you knew what he wanted from you.

"P-Please, Nick-" Your voice was cut off by a debauched moan, immediately feeling his fingers move faster, relentlessly abusing your prostate. Your teeth clamped down onto your lip as your thighs began to shake, hips rolling involuntarily pushing back and forth against him, the friction seeming to serve pleasure for both your dick pinned against the bed, and his pressing harder into the meat of your rear. You let your face fully fall to the bed, the pain of your injury not registering over the intensity in which you felt your orgasm creeping up on you. It was shameful how fast he was working you into a messy puddle of a person in his hands, but in your defense this had been the only thing on your mind for nearly an entire month. Moans converted to pathetic whines the closer you got to your peak, eyes clamped shut as the beginnings of tears pricked at your eyes.

"Gonna cum already?" Wolfwood chided, but you were unwilling to answer, half expecting that if he knew the answer he would stop. One particular down thrust of his fingers punched out a sinful whine, to which he removed his fingers, earning a noise of protest. "Shut up," He clicked his tongue, pressing the tip of himself against your asshole, "Impatient brat."

All you could do was choke out pitiful noises as he pushed into you, inch after inch each earning a thrust in and out, before pushing himself in to the hilt. Back arching, you felt his hips collide with your rear, holding there for a moment or two. You heard a shaky breath beside your ear, followed by a warm pressure along the line of your back through the fabric of your shirt, turning your head as far as you could to see his chin hovering above your shoulder. His lips were parted, eyes watchful and sharp when he brought a hand around to grip your jaw, turning your head at an angle that made your muscles scream, before descending his lips to yours in a messy, tongue and teeth filled kiss. His hips pulled back, then jolted forward, setting a slow, brutal pace, swallowing up your unabating noises greedily. He pulled back, holding your head in place, and hooked a finger in your mouth, hungry eyes watching you moan and pant, cheeks ruddy and eyes half lidded. Heaving out a deep chuckle, Wolfwood ran his tongue along your bottom lip, licking a trail from the corner of your mouth, down to your jaw, before continuing his onslaught of abuse on whatever bare skin he could reach. The hand gripping your jaw released you, moving to the back of your head, forcing you into the mattress once again, making sure to angle your head so he was only pressing your cheek down into the mess of pillows and blankets.

Already half out of your mind, when his hands moved down, circling your hips and leaning his weight into you, forcing your pelvis deeper into the bed, you keened, mouth hanging open and drool sliding out from the corner of your mouth. It was almost too much when he angled his hips down, repeatedly abusing your most sensitive spot, the pull and push grinding you against the sheets. "Nick," You panted, one hand reaching up to press against the headboard, trying desperately to push back in time with his thrusts. "S'... good," You garbled intelligently, voice muffled from the fabric beneath you. He seemed amused, the stutter of his hips against your ass forcing a punched out noise of desperation from your chest, his hands squeezing your hips tight before he pulled back completely, flipping you onto your back without warning. You gasped, eyes adjusting to the light now that your vision wasn't half covered by blankets. He gave you no respite, lining himself up again, but in that moment you felt your breath catch in your throat. The sun peeking through the massive colorful stained glass window shone down on him, skin glistening with sweat, strands of pitch black hair clinging to his forehead. One hand held his cock firmly and pushed the tip into you, the other running back through his hair.

"Fuck," Was all you could whisper, completely swept away with how ruggedly ethereal he looked, sun kissed skin riddled with blue, red, and yellow refractions of light, the sight reminding you of the nightmare that had awoken you first thing this morning. His eyes stared into you, pushing himself in to the hilt. Your vision grew blurry, before clearing, and upon looking up at Wolfwood, you noticed his brows furrowed with concern. Your vision blurred again, then cleared again, and he was reaching a hand up to your face, thumb brushing away the wet trails of tears you didn't notice were running down your face.

Wolfwood opened his mouth, pulling his hips back slightly. "Are... Do you-"

"No, please... Keep going," You interrupted, fingers clasping over the hand pressed into your cheek. You sighed out a moan, eyes fluttering shut when he pushed back in, and that seemed to be enough reassurance for him. The soft touch on your face trailed down, fingertips brushing down your neck, torso, before settling on your hip, the other pressed into the mattress beside your head so he could lean down into you. Lifting your lower half and angling himself to push a little deeper, you whimpered, hands reaching up and finding purchase on his shoulders. His dark gaze was locked on your face, and you found yourself unable to look away, despite the intimacy of it making your stomach twist in knots. Silver swayed, the cross necklace adorning his neck swinging back and forth with every meaningful, unhurried thrust of his hips. Somehow this unraveled you faster, never having experienced this sense of care, and you couldn't quite tell if the affinity shining in his eyes made you want to cum or cry more, or both.

"Faster," You breathed, and without further begging, Wolfwood did as you asked, his jaw hanging slack as he leaned down further, his nose brushing up against yours. Finger pads dug deeper into your skin as he lowered himself to his forearm, half-mast eyes remaining locked with yours, even as your vision began to blur with tears again. Seeming to understand exactly what you were thinking, he closed his eyes, leaning in and kissing you in such a way it left you winded. You moaned, whined, whimpered into his mouth, into his gentle touch circling your leg around his waist, back arching when his fingers brushed up the base of your painfully hard cock. His fingers encircled you, pulling up and running a thumb over the tip, only managing to push halfway back down before you were reduced to a puddle in his grip, your climax hitting you hard and fast. You pulled back from his lips, eyes wide as you choked on your noises, hips bucking up into his touch as your warm release painted his hand and your borrowed shirt white.

"Good boy," Wolfwood whispered into you, giving you another searing kiss before pulling back, both hands on your hips as he set a ruthless pace, battering his hips up into you with all his might as he quickly climbed to his own peak. You were a mess, eyes rolled back so far you swear you could see your frontal lobe, hands holding desperately onto his wrists as he flexed his fingers, gripping you harder, tighter, pulling your body to meet with his every thrust. It didn't take him long to hit the wall, his body toppling over, only preventing himself from collapsing onto you when a hand left it's position on your hip, propping himself up with a flat palm on the bed. He huffed, moan depraved and sinful, his eyes sliding shut as his hips stuttered a few more times before stilling.

Silence washed over you, your conjoined panting and heaving deafening in the silence. You could no longer hear the rain pattering against the window, sun shining bright and decorating his slick, sweaty skin in all kinds of colorful geometric shapes. He opened his eyes, catching you staring at him, but instead of the smarmy reaction you were expecting to get, he smiled down at you, palms smoothing over the welts in your hips his fingers left soothingly. This act alone had your heart jumping into your throat, mind still unsure with what his modus operandi was with you, but for now you left your guard down, deciding not to put your walls up quite yet. Ever the perceptive, Wolfwood chuckled, seeming to sense your unease, pulling his softening cock out of you and using his discarded shirt to wipe you off, and then himself. You swallowed, following suit by stripping off the cum stained shirt from your body and throwing it onto the floor beside the bed. No words were exchanged as he flopped down on the bed beside you, arms circling your waist and tugging you back into him, his face nestled in your hair.

Unable to stop your heart from racing when the bare line of his chest pressed into your back, you froze. What did this mean for you? Was this just another fun time, or did he want to pursue something with you? What did that mean for his career if he did want something more with you? What if the church caught wind of this and stationed him somewhere else, or what if he lost everything altogether? All because you were selfish, all because-

"Yer thinkin' too loud," Wolfwood muttered into your hair, arms squeezing your waist for emphasis. "What's rattling around in that head of yours?"

You were embarrassed he had read you so well, teeth clamping down on your lower lip nervously as you stumbled to get your words out.

"Just thinking... You said you don't drive a car, what do priests drive? You never answered me," Your tone was forced, forced amusement, forced jest, and you mentally beat yourself for thinking he would fall for something like that. All you received was a hum and a deep exhale, his breath warm on the back of your head.

"I'll let it slide this time, but you're gonna have to learn to be more honest with me if we're gonna pursue... this."

Jaw clenching, eyes watering, all you could do was nod in his grip, earning a quiet good. Taking a deep breath, you allowed yourself to indulge just a bit, turning in his tight grip- which was a feat in itself- so you were now facing him. A smirk crawled up onto his lips, tugging you just a bit closer so you were now nose to nose, you watched his tired eyes slide shut. You could only stare, could only let a barely there smile grace your lips, leaning down and pressing a tender kiss to his lips, earning a grunt in response. A palm came down playfully to your rump, your body jerking forward into him as he whispered into your lips, "Don't wind me up again."

Rolling your eyes, you placed a hand on his bicep, sliding your palm up to his shoulder, before settling on his neck. "You're insatiable. Unscrupulous. Horrible, horrible priest."

The dark chuckle he emitted as he tugged you closer and rolled you onto your back, moving so he was swinging a leg over you and half-hovering over your form, he opened his eyes to gaze down at you.

"You've got no idea, angel."

[firedragon1321]

How to Spot an AI-Generated Tai in the Wild!

Because I am insanely obsessed with the blorbo and AI art is a hot-button topic right now, here's a silly thing. I'm sure most artists can tell the difference between real and AI art. But my autistic brain wants to pick apart Tai's character design a bit so here you go. This applies to all seasons, touching on basic traits Tai has between them. So I won't go too much into clothing here (people like to dress him up in different cool outfits anyway- keep doing that).

Note that this isn't true to all models, but works 90% of the time. AI art is advancing so quickly that this may be obsolete by tomorrow. Also, real art might "fail" these little tests simply due to lack of experience drawing the character. If you suspect someone is posting AI art, just block and move on. Report if you want, but you know how Tumblr feels about AI. Most importantly? Don't use this post to be a dick.

WARNING: This post uses AI-generative images found from around the Internet for demonstrative purposes. No credit is given because if the "creators" wanted credit, they should've learned how to actually draw. :)

SKIN TONE

Tai has this nice, tanned skin tone that the rest of the Adventure DigiDestined do not have. While he keeps it in 02 and tri, he loses his color in Kizuna. A real fanart piece is most likely to reflect this, or even add color to his paler designs.

Most AI models have a generic pasty white skin tone for anime characters. This applies to any anime character, not just Tai. I believe this model might have gobbled up his Kizuna skin tone. But I've seen fake Tais even paler than this.

There are some AI models that combat this. But the standard AI identification tricks apply. Here, the tongue is mushy, and the highlights on his goggles make no sense.

HAIR OF FLOOF FLOOF

Ah yes- my point of expertise. Tai's hair is a difficult thing to draw. I don't blame anyone for dropping the ball here. But AI does have some notable, repetitive failings.

A "legit" Tai tends to have fluff, rather than spikes. The bangs consist of one stripe over the forehead. The few spikes present designate messiness, but the general shape is actually curvy (look at the top right side of the head for the most wavy lines). The size of the floof ranges between adaptions and even storyboard artists.

AI-generators are convinced that all "anime hair" is spiky. Notice this AI Tai has more spikes and less curved lines.

Then, there's this one, which drops the ball on Tai and Matt so bad that both characters resemble Bakugou from My Hero Academia.

WHO'S THAT DIGIDESTINED?

Eye shape and color has some leeway depending on the artist's style. Adventure/02, tri., and Kizuna supply three different eye styles. However, there are still some dead giveaways.

Revisiting this AI-generated image, the eyes look...familiar. No?

How about now? The modern Pokemon anime style has been completely absorbed by AI models. Sometimes, Digimon and Pokemon will be confused for each other, resulting in similar eye shapes and other traits (look at the noses, too).

HUMAN TOUCH

There's some times you can look at an art and know with confidence it was human-made, such as-

MS Paint blobs/sketches on lined paper/anything showing layers/etc. They're too unrefined for an AI image creator to want to profit off of, so why would they make them?

Some fetish art. A lot of kinksters are using AI, which is why deviantArt made good ammunition for this post. But many have distinct art styles that AI has not copied yet.

Western-cartoony art with hard or thick lines. AI is allergic to these traits atm. Notice the softer, thinner outlines on all three fakes.

Clearly attempting to master Tai's unique traits, even if they don't translate well (e.g.- a dome vaguely shaped like his hair is more credible than a "perfect" hairdo with too many spikes).

FINAL NOTES

All of this could change tomorrow, at the rate at which AI advances. I'm fairly good at deducing AI art from human-made art. But a recent piece almost tricked me (interestingly, it was Davis- not Tai- who looked off). These things are constantly evolving. But in addition to the usual tricks, knowing your blorbos can help identify AI images so you can freely block (or, when applicable, report) the idiots who made them.

[renard-dartigue]

My Sleep Token Creature Headcanons

These are ideas that came to me for the passed few weeks and wrote down:

The vessels aren't actually wearing black paint. That's Sleep's influence manifesting on their bodies.

They wear masks not to frighten their followers during rituals because Sleep has mutated them almost beyond recognition. But Vessel wears his mask to protect the audience.

Vessel

Vessel has 6 pairs of eyes and his perception of reality is heightened. When off stage he only opens the middle row but can open the other sets whenever he wants, though he often gets dizzy doing it. When channeling Sleep's power he opens all three sets and they shine brightly. When using Sleep's power, Vessel can vaguely see the fabric of the universe, infinite strings of information flowing into his mind in bursts, fueling his creativity. However, or thankfully, Sleep heavily censures 99.9% of that information so that Vessel's brain doesn't shatter. Wearing his mask on stage is important because a gateway to Sleep manifest on his face. Staring directly into the gateway will cause people's eye's to explode and liquefy their brains.

II

II can hear and feel the rhythm of the universe. He can raise or lower the "volume" whenever and can allow others to hear it as well. During rituals, he taps into this rhythm, making them more effective. With his drumming and Vessel's incantations, they set the pace of the ritual, providing a safe connection between Sleep and our reality. If Vessel can see the strings of the universe, II can touch them, holding them out for Vessel to pluck. Outside of rituals, he will tap his foot or his fingers in sync with the universe, the actions are soothing to him. His heart beats to this rhythm.

III

III is a bit of a conundrum, even to himself. He is a shape-shifter but not in the traditional sense. His body shapes not into other people but impossible forms. He is still a tall lanky man, same as before he discovered Sleep. However, his body can stretch and contort in impossible ways. He can also change colors but red is the only one that manifests, blobs and patches shifting across his body. One might say his form is ever changing, like the universe itself.

IV

IV being the newest addition to that band, his abilities manifested recently. Basicly, he has a taste for blood. But not in the traditional blood sucking way from ancient myths. Drinking blood seems to grant him knowledge almost similar to Vessel's but on a lesser scale. Blood brings Sleep closer to our world. Human and animal blood work, but human blood is more potent. Its effects are even stronger when someone willingly offers their blood to him, willing giving up a peice of one's lifeforce to Sleep.

Additions

All four of them can travel to a portion of the astral plain while dreaming, but only Vessel can go deeper without losing his mind.

They have many smaller ritual to communicate with Sleep but its takes a few nights before Sleep responds, the reply cryptic but satisfactory once they all figured it out.

The Vesselettes are the most mysterious, even to the vessels. Its not clear when they joined the band but it's likely the choir have grown so close to Sleep that they have transcended their humanity into beings beyond our understanding. They help Vessel with incantations so he doesn't get too overwhelmed channeling Sleep's power.

And that's about all I came up with heh.

[sixeyescurseuser]

Modern AU where Yuji has to work after school in order to help pay for his grandfather’s medical bills.

He finally gets hired as a cashier/helper at the ancient local library.

It’s ginormous. There are walls of bookshelves, entirely filled with books of all sizes - hardcovers, soft covers, manuals - and different colors.

Understandably, Yuji goes through lots of training: learning how the ship is organized, how to help customers at the register, and how to keep the place clean.

Once, when Yuji is snacking on a few candies he got from the school vending machines, his manager warns him not to leave his food out, especially sweets.

“It attracts nasty, unwanted critters,” she states.

Yuji easily agreed and stuffs the rest of his candies in his hoodie pocket. They’re just about to close, so he gets to sweeping the floors of the bookstore. 

About one month in, Yuji has everything down. He’s a quick and eager learner, and actually had a very sharp memory. This serves him well as the manager who showed him all the ropes suddenly calls it quits.

Something about going insane in the bookshop, seeing things that don’t exist…

A haunted bookstore? Yuji questions himself. Seems likely. 

He’s never actually met the owner in person. And he barely catches sight of the other person who works the early afternoon shift.

For a bookstore so vast and abundant, there weren’t a ton of customers filtering in and out all the time.

One day, Yuji’s friends surprise him with a whole box full of donuts for his birthday. 

Yuji shares the donuts, but alas, there are still two left. He decides to bring the leftover two to work, intent on offering them to any lucky customer that might come in hungry.

Only two customers come in over the next few hours: an older woman who returns a couple books and borrows two more, and a father with a young boy who is looking for a “children’s horror book” about a boy being pulled into the ocean and dragged to hell. 

Weird.

The boy takes one donut. 

One donut remains.

Really, Yuji is unsure of how the owner is keeping this business running. But at least he’s being paid a decent wage. And it’s simple enough work too.

It’s quiet for the next hour. 

Already done with most of his housekeeping tasks, Yuji ventures to the sci-fi section, which is near the front of the store where he can still see the entryway, in case anyone comes in. This means he can also see the register counter, where the donut box lays, lid open.

Pop music softly plays from the store speakers. Yuji hums to the vaguely familiar tune, sifting through the shelves. 

But the music is not loud enough to mask the shuffle of the donut box on the counter.

Yuji pauses his search, scanning the doorway to make sure no one has entered the store. Not hearing any other pair of footsteps, Yuji turns back to the books.

A long moment passes before an unmistakable noise of laughter rings out.

Yuji whirls around because he did NOT imagine that!

He rushes to the counter, right in time to see the donut escaping the box. Or rather, upon closer inspection, a tiny person not even the height of a birthday candle, carrying said donut and bounding away.

Yuji, unable to process anything besides the fact that the tiny person is taking his last donut, chases after them.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

Yuji easily catches up to the tiny-person-donut-blob, cupping them between his palms right when the tiny person makes a leap for a bookshelf.

“Gotcha-!“ Yuji shouts in triumph. He squeezes tight enough to trap, then takes a closer look.

This tiny person is dressed in just as tiny clothes. Human-shaped enough, with white hair and black blindfold over their eyes. 

Before Yuji can ask “What ARE you?” The tiny person finishes chewing what Yuji assumes was a piece of donut, and opens their mouth to yell out:

“Formation B!”

Before Yuji can blink, two other small people fly from opposite bookshelves.

One lands on his right wrist and thumps it with a tiny hammer; this causes Yuji to let go of the white-haired-tiny-person and donut in tow. 

The other smacks right onto his nose, making Yuji go cross-eyed. This tiny human has black spiky hair and dark eyes. His expression offers nothing more than stone-cold as he throws a glittery powder into Yuji’s face- 

Yuji promptly blacks out.

***

The powder was supposed to make Yuji forget about the little people sighting, but it doesn’t work on him.

Now that he’s aware of their existence, he starts seeing the little people everywhere now: hopping from shelf to shelf, meddling in customer’s bags or purses, changing the music from Yuji’s classical playlist to a TWICE song.

(“It’s like TT~~like TT” in the background.

Yuji, in his head: “so that explains the random song changes” 🧐

It was all Gojo. 

Gojo also played pranks on the manager and made her quit lol. )

Au-wise, the major issue is that a real estate company is looking to buy out the building, wanting to create a more high-end shopping strip. The local bookstore is at risk of being closed down, which has been the home of little people for years. 

Many traveling little people even use the bookstore as a place to rest and find community. Yuji finds that there's a whole other tiny world within the bookshelves thanks to Gojo and his little family.

So Yuji has to help figure out a way to generate more business for the bookstore without risking the livelihoods of the little people, or help scout out a new location for the little people in case that doesn't work.

***

Bonus: 

Geto had always been curious about other little people's locations. A few months ago, he set out on his journey to explore outside the bookstore. 

("I'm going on a little adventure! I'll make sure to bring souvenirs for you all!" Geto pats his special bag that has an infinite amount of space before heading off into the big wide world.)

But he never returned, and has been missing ever since. Gojo is :(((. 

(Yuji: “I mean, I go outside all the time. If you tell me what kind of places he’d go, I can help search for him?”

Gojo: “I knew I liked you for a reason!”)

In hindsight, Geto’s first mistake was getting kidnapped by a hawk, which clearly thought he was food. Cue the hawk soaring through the sky and Geto's tiny screaming.

He ended up in a nest with baby hawks. 

See, living with Gojo and the kids back in the bookstore, Geto ran a lot in his life. But he swears, he's never ran so fast until then, away from the birds trying to gobble him up.

Geto simply yanked a tree leaf off the branch and sailed down to the ground. Geto ended up at a cafe a few blocks down. He's been trying to find his way back ever since. 🥹

It comes down to when Gojo tags along with Yuji during their weekly searches and Gojo’s gets enamored by the smell coming from the cafe.

Imagine Geto’s surprise when he’s hiding within the shelves behind the counter and sees a tuft of white hair peeking from this large human’s collar.

Satoru!

And it’s as if he can sense Geto anywhere because Gojo locks eyes with Geto right away.

Suguru!

Gojo jumps down from his perch - he’s gone rogue!

Yuji, internally: “NOOO”

Luckily, most people in the cafe are engrossed in conversation or their work. The only person Yuji makes a fool out of himself for covering the clearly tiny person making a dash for the back shelves is the barista.

Geto hops down the shelves and meets Gojo in the middle of the coffee machine, wrapping him in a tight embrace.

Yuji, stalling his order so the barista doesn’t notice the tiny Satosugu reunion on the mf coffee machine: “Uh, so what do you recommend?”

Geto quickly sweeps Gojo up in his arms and heads towards Yuji. The barista is still talking through their recommendations. 

Yuji: “Oh, um, I’ll actually have one hot chocolate, please. Also, how much is that pastry?”  

Yuji points to the display so the barista doesn’t see him scooping up tiny Satosugu into his hoodie - who whisper loudly among themselves. 😭

(Gojo: “Suguru, your hair got so long!”

Geto: “It did, I didn’t really have anything to cut it. You like?” 😉

Gojo: “Oh I much more than like it~”

Luckily, Geto puts his palm over Gojo’s mouth before he can continue.)

Once they’re back on the street, Yuji feels a tap on his neck.

“Hello, I’m Geto Suguru. What’s your name?”

“Itadori Yuji. Bookstore cashier, shelver, and tiny person transporter,” Yuji introduces himself. “It’s nice to meet you, Geto-sama.”

Geto laughs loudly. 

“Nice to meet you too, Yuji-kun.”

A moment passes, before he adds: 

“Thank you for helping Satoru find me.”

[therosebunpost]

Monster Mash

Werewolf! Steve Harrington x Fem! Blind! Reader

CW: Some small sexual themes (MDI)

For @lesservillain ‘s Strange and Spooky Stories prompts! This finally gave me a chance to write my Werewolf! Steve idea, so thank you so much!

—————

You came to Hawkins for one reason, and one reason alone. You heard about the spooky shit that’s been happening, and as one amateur Paranormal Investigator, you wanted to see what all the hype was about. People didn’t like that idea. Your parents nearly passed out when you told them. “I’ll have Bernard with me!” You’d say, kneeling down and hugging the large Goldie, who barked proudly. Licking your face and tapping his feet against the ground.

Bernard was your trusty partner in crime. Trained from a young puppy, you two had a bond that was unshaken. He was more than just your eyes, he was for all purposes, your best friend. “He’s excited too, aren’t you? You ready to hunt some ghosts? Maybe get into a run-in with some monsters?” You’d gush, your trusty pup woofing in excitement.

Obviously, you were going to be careful. Sure, you joked about battling monsters, but like hell would you actually put yourself or Bernard in danger. It sucked that people didn’t expect that from you, but that’s how it was when you were blind.

You loved proving them wrong, though.

Hawkins was a nice enough town. It was small, from what your research told you. Even smaller than it used to be, after the quakes.

Bernard stayed by your side, dutifully ignoring the coos and pets of strangers as he led you away from the bus station. Guess Hawkins didn’t have a large Blind population, as you had to gently tell people not to distract your faithful companion. It was almost second nature to you, even if it got irritating.

At some point, you managed to stumble into a building for some salvation from the heat. Taking in the vague shapes and colors, it was some kind of store.

“Welcome to Family Video, if you need anything-“

“Oh! You have such a cute dog, oh my god-“

Two voices rung out from in front of you. One masculine and one feminine. You see two human shaped blobs, and one of them was already coming around the counter at record speed.

“Thank you!” You stop her, tucking Bernard behind your legs and keeping your cane in front of you. “He’s working now, though, so please don’t pet him-“

The woman stops, a sharp breath leaving her. “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry. I won’t. He’s really pretty, sorry about that-“

“It’s alright, thank you.” You relax, eased up by the sincerity in her tone. “Could you help me, actually? Do you know where the local Inn is? I’m staying for a few days and the sun is taking a toll on me. I really don’t want to wander around in it.” You giggle and the woman chuckles in sympathy.

“Yeah! Here, let me find a map. We have some water, if you’re thirsty?” You follow after her retreating form, now stationed in front of the solid mass that you assumed was a counter. The other blob, this one taller and wider in the shoulders, offered a wave before quickly thinking better of it. “Hi! Hey, uh, I’m Steve.”

Steve had a really nice voice. Smooth, and just a touch of an accent you can’t quite place. “Hi Steve.” You return, hoping you were smiling at him and not at the wall. That, and you hoped the heat in your cheeks would die down. You were a sucker for nice voices.

“So, the Inn? What brings you to Hawkins?”

“Well, I’m actually here on a mission!” You tease, giggling and leaning on the counter. “Bernard and I are going monster hunting!” Bernard woofs, but he wasn’t right next to you like you were expecting. Instead he was a little off to the side, and it’s then that you hear the tell tale sounds of sniffing.

“Oh, uh, hey big guy-“

“Bernard!” You rush around the counter without thinking, gently leading Bernard away from the confused man. “I’m so sorry, usually he’s really good at staying by my side.” Even in the midst of a distraction, but maybe Bernard was a sucker for a nice voice too. Plus, he could actually see what the man looked like.

“Oh, it’s fine, I just had some food so maybe he just smelled it on me.” He waves off the apologies, chuckling. Bernard woofs again and Steve’s laugh becomes a little wheezy.

“Dingus! Where’s the map??”

“I don't know Robin! Here, let me check, you just grab the water.”

Then, without so much as a goodbye, he was gone.

The woman, Robin, takes his place. “Here you go! I found a bowl, in case you’re both thirsty? Did I hear right, that his name is Bernard?” She chattered away, pressing the cold bottle into your hands along with a paper bowl.

“Thank you, and Mmhmm! Hey, you can pet him for a moment, if you want.” It wasn’t something you usually did, but she seemed sweet and was respectful of your No. Robin let’s out a small squeal of excitement before you hear her baby talking to the wiggling goldie. “Oh, you're so cute, oh my god. Such a good boy, working so hard, yeah??”

Bernard woofs, whining happily and Robin's giggles were just too infectious not to join in on. "Here, do you mind helping me with the water?" You ask, kneeling beside her and offering the bottle.

After the bowl was filled and Bernard was eagerly lapping at it, you take a grateful sip yourself.

"So, Monster Hunting?" Robin prompts after a moment, and you nod.

"Yeah, I heard a lot of stuff happened here. I was due for a vacation and I figured it'd be fun to look into it!" You explain, standing again. Robin snorts, and she's a blur as she shakes her head. "That's one way to spend a vacation."

"Fuck, I think I left it in my car." Steve’s footsteps come back out of the room.

"I can cover out here if you guys wanna go grab it." Robin offers, and you debate the offer. Follow a stranger to his car for a map to your Inn. Not that the map would do much, but it would at least give you something.

"Sure, come on Bern." You direct him with your leash and he falls back into Work Mode with ease. That, or he was eager to follow Steve out of the building. His lead tugged with his urgency.

"Here, uh, I think it's in the glove compartment?" Steve mutters, and you wait as he rustles around in the car. Though, suddenly he swears and there's a thump inside the car. "Whoa there bud-" He ducks out and you realize that Bernard had been inching closer.

"Bernard! Bad Dog!" You guide him away from Steve with a horrified gasp. "I am so, so sorry, he's never done that to someone before-" Bernard was a very friendly dog, but you trained him out of the sniffing thing early on. At least you thought you had.

"Its uh, it's fine! Dogs do that to me. He's just sayin' hello, yeah?" Bernard whines with apology and you try not to wilt at the sound. You rarely had to scold him, but it seems the new environment was a lot. "Still, I am so sorry."

Steve hands you the map and he tries to guide you to the Inn, but the mess of lines and colors was proving difficult.

"Its okay, I can ask for directions along the way." You offer, handing him the map. You've already taken enough of his time and you weren't excited for the next time Bernard decided to get friendly again.

"Are you sure? I mean, I could uh..drive you? It's not that far from the store and you aren't wrong about the heat."

You hesitate. You did need to check in soon and Bernard seemed to like him a lot. If there was anyone's opinion you trusted the most, it was your sweet puppy.

"Sure, yeah, thank you. I hope there's a way I can pay you back?" You asked, hearing the click of the door. You reached out a hand instinctively and he filled that space. The warm skin of his palm was soothing against yours and damn, his hands were big-

You slip into the car, placing your tingling hand in your lap in an effort to ignore it. The back door opened with a click and Bernard jumped into the backseat with a pleased bark. The sounds of him sniffing around were instant.

"You know," you admit with a giggle, "he's a friendly dog but he hasn't warmed up this quickly to someone before."

Steve let out that wheeze laugh again, hand tapping on the wheel. "He's a sweet dog, cares a lot about you." You hum in agreement, leaning your head back against the headrest and letting yourself rest for a moment.

"So…you said you were…monster hunting?"

“Yeah! I just think it’s really interesting. Really, it’s less hunting and just..seeing that they’re real, Y’know?”

“But isn’t that…dangerous?”

“I mean, sure, but I got Bern and…can I be a little honest?” You rub your palms along the fabric of your bottoms. “I don’t really expect to find anything. Part of this was just an excuse to get…away for a while. Work’s been…stressful lately and I dunno, I just wanted to do something different for a while.”

“Can I be honest?” Steve asks, and you nod. “Hawkins is kinda a weird place to run away to. Most people are hoping to get out.” You giggle, and Steve joins you.

“Do you? Want to leave?”

“…Not really? I mean, sure, I don’t want to be here everyday but…it’s my home.”

“So, you wanna stay but most people wanna leave?”

“It’s stupid, I know.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s not stupid. It’s nice. Sounds like you really like it here.”

Steve hums and you want to ask more, but soon the car comes to a stop. You slip out, running your hands along the glossy interior, and locate the handle and let out your rambunctious pup. He jumps out, pressing his body against your leg with a happy bark. You pet the top of his head, grounding yourself in the familiar softness of his fur.

“Here we go! Hey, maybe.. I’ll see you around? Sometimes? Wait, shit, I mean-“

You giggle, shaking your head and turning towards the smooth voice. “I’ll see you around, Steve.” With a smile, you settle your backpack onto your shoulders, grab your cane and Bernard’s leash. “Thanks again, is there anything I can do? I have some cash?”

“Oh- No, hey, it’s fine, honestly this was a nice break for me. Getting to sit down and uh, drive you and this guy around was a highlight. Trust me.” Bernard barks and his tail wags against your leg before leaving your side and woofing even louder. The golden blob suddenly elongates, meshing with Steve and you have to let out another gasp. “Bernard, oh my god-“

But Steve was laughing, and damn, wasn’t that a nice sound? “Yeah, I liked meeting you too, Buddy.” He giggles and it’s not long before he ushers him back over to you. “Stay with your girl though, okay? Gotta protect her from monsters.” He chuckles, and your cheeks heat up again. “But seriously, stay safe, okay?”

With one final goodbye, you walk into the lobby with a sense of relief and maybe a small bit of longing. “Bern, what the fuck?” You mumble, giggling under your breath as you pet him again. “Was he really that handsome?” You tease and Bernard just lets out one of his happy whines, nudging your hand and licking your fingers. “I’d call you a smitten kitten, but I think you’d be offended.” He lets out an indignant woof and you laugh as you head up to the front desk.

-

Hawkins was nice, for the most part. The people were friendly and helped you get around if you got lost. Bernard was definitely popular, with many people eagerly greeting the two of you as you walked around. Beyond that, things unfortunately weren’t as action packed as you hoped. After all, you couldn’t just waltz up to the nearest resident and interview them about all the things they’ve seen. Not that many were that forthcoming in the first place.

So, you resorted to the library. The place didn’t have a lot of braille in the first place, figures, so the papers certainly didn’t. So you had to blow up the text to nearly three times its size, and even then you had to call the librarian over to tell you any words that weren’t clicking. At some point she ended up sitting with you and reading over the entire article, along with adding her own tidbits.

“Oh, that Munson boy. You know, when he was acquitted, I was relieved. He was always a sweet kid, even if he got a little too into his ‘metal music’ that I had to sush him.” She giggles and you tap the mugshot with your finger with interest. “You said he got hurt? From the quakes?”

“That or an animal got him, dear. Poor boy, he was in the hospital for months. The picket line outside the hospital certainly didn’t help either. His uncle had to be let back in through the back door, I heard. Or smuggled in when visiting hours were over.”

“Holy shit- Oh, wait, I’m sorry-“

“No, you’re absolutely right. Holy shit indeed, my dear.”

Looking back at the formless blob on the page, wonder if that’s all this was. Not a monster as in the bogey man, but the worse. A tangible monster, going around and murdering high schoolers and pinning the blame on some guy who sounded like the town was after him.

“You know dear,” The librarian mentions softly, “things haven’t really gotten better after the quakes, why, there’s been some sightings. That’s what you’re after, aren’t you?”

You perk up at this. “Sightings? Wait, like, monster sightings?”

“Mmhmm, but I’d be careful if I were you, pumpkin. This thing…well, it’s not one to be trifled with.”

-

It was one time, during one of these little study sessions, that a familiar voice rang out in the quiet library.

“Fifteen library books, Dustin? Fifteen late library books?”

“Are you really going to scold me for learning? For following where ever my journey of curiosity leads? My thirst for knowledge-“

“Henderson, Herrington, what a surprise! What brings you two here, not the fifty dollar fine, I hope?”

“Fifty Dollars? Oh, you little shit, I’m going to-“

You weren’t fast enough to catch Bernard’s leash. The Goldie barked, and you scrambled after the blonde mass of fur as he came barreling over to Steve and another person, a boy you guess given his voice.

“Bernard!”

“Fuck!”

The books come crashing down, heavy thumps pounding the ground. Steve’s increasingly familiar blob joined them, covered by a wiggling, excited Bernard.

“Steve! Dude, you dropped them-“ The boy cries, and Steve just groans.

Mortified, you firmly grip at Bernard’s lead. “Are you okay? Steve, I am so sorry-“ You reach out for him, gripping his hand and tugging the dazed man to his feet. “Fuck- Yeah, yeah, just startled, hey buddy-“

“Since when were you a dog magnet, oh, hi!” The boy, now placing the stack of books on the counter, greeted you with barely contained amusement. “Is that your dog? I didn’t know they let pets in here, that’s so cool-“

“Oh, no, he’s a service dog.” You were quick to interject, feeling for Bernard’s leash to make sure it was firmly in your hand. “He’s usually very well behaved, I’m so sorry. Are your books okay?” You reach out, wincing as you felt dents in the spines. “Here, let me just pay the fine, you said fifty?”

That caught Steve’s attention, the man quickly coming to your side. “No, no, you do not have to do that-“

“I mean, the books are pretty dented, Steve-“

“Dustin, I swear to god-“

“It’s fine!” You interject, pulling out your card and handing it over to the librarian. God, you were glad you couldn’t see her expression right now. “Fifty, then?” You press and the librarian finally lets out a laugh. “Yes. Usually I’d charge for the dents, but I’m fairly certain that was Mr. Henderson’s doing.”

“Wait, hey, I-“ There was a thump and Dustin let out an annoyed grunt. You pay the fine, silently mourning what could have been. Maybe a nice dinner at that Enzo’s place, or that cute top you felt at the store, or put into another training course for Bernard because apparently he needed a refresher.

With the freshly used card back in your bag, you turn towards the two with a heavy sigh. “God, I’m so sorry Steve, I swear Bernard isn’t like this-“ His warm hand lays heavy on your shoulder, and he squeezes gently. “It’s fine. Trust me, I’ve had worse.” He chuckles and you relax just a bit. Still mortified, but at least you made amends.

“You seriously didn’t need to pay his fine though, that’s his own doing-“

The exasperation makes you giggle. “Trying to teach your brother financial responsibility?” You guess and Dustin lets out a laugh loud enough to be shushed.

“Might I remind you three that this is a library, not a social circle?”

With renewed embarrassment, you run a hand over your face. “I’m so sorry Silvia. I’m done for today. I think I’ll just grab my cane and head out.”

“Here, do you..want some help?” Steve offers, and even though you could get back to your seat on your own, you decide to nod. Offering a hand, you tell him the section you were in and let him lead you back over there.

“He’s not my uh…brother, for the record.” Steve explains as the two of you walk. He smells nice up close, like the woods and a hint of hair spray. “Could have fooled me.” You tease and he chuckles. “He’s lucky he’s not, I’d be more annoyed about that fine if I was.”

“Fifteen late books is a bit excessive.”

“Exactly! Plus, those dents were not from the ground, they weren’t your fault I promise.”

You bite your lip and shake your head, hand reaching out for where you left your cane. “I didn’t…pay it for him. I uh…did it for you.” Was the AC broken all of a sudden or were you just perpetually warm around Steve and his nice voice and warm hands, and pretty laugh?

He clears his throat and let’s out a little laugh himself. “For…me?”

“I mean, I think my dog has basically fallen in love with you, so I think it’s only fair.” You admit, realizing he hasn’t let go of your hand even when you had your cane. You kind of didn’t want him to, either. “Seriously, he does that to no one. Not even me, so I mean, I think fifty dollars is a fair enough apology. Fifty dollars and a firm promise that he’s going back into training as soon as I get back home.”

Bernard whines at that and you roll your eyes. “I know, I’m breaking the biggest code about revealing your crush, but you literally ran over the man-“ You gently scold him and Steve giggles.

“I'm flattered, but it’s fine. Though…do you think you might want to go out sometime? Bernard’s handsome, but I’d like to just be friends.” He teases and you flush under the boldness.

“You sure? He has to come with me everywhere, I’d hate to make him a third wheel.” You joke and Bernard surprises you with his enthusiastic bark. Nudging your legs and inadvertently pressing you closer to the warm man next to you. “Seems like he doesn’t mind..” Steve’s low answer tickles your ears and you fold so quickly, it’s almost embarrassing.

“…Yeah, I’d like to hang out.” You admit and Steve hums, gently patting the small of your back with a hand as he leads you out of the library. “How about Enzo’s? I can pick you up tomorrow night?”

“Sure.”

—-

The date was going really well. Steve was sweet, attentive, but also mindful of your space and autonomy, which was the bare minimum but damn did some people not reach that. He was funny too, and you really liked making him laugh. Honestly, you loved listening to him talk, even if his topics tended to connect in ways you weren’t expecting, sometimes. You learn a few things about him. How he like sports, how he’s basically become the babysitter for Dustin and his group of friends, how he’s lived here his whole life.

“Wait, so were you here…?”

“During the uh..quakes? Yeah. It kinda divided the town, literally. Crazy.” He admits, tapping a spoon against his plate. “Still looking for monsters?” He asks and you chuckle.

“Yeah, but I haven’t seen any. Just a bunch of newspapers and stuff. You guys have been through a lot.”

“Tell me about it.” Steve groans and you let the conversation shift to something else. You really liked Steve, and you figured you could ask him for more information later, if he wanted.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t tell you much during your hang outs after that. Just bits and pieces. The fire at Starcourt, the missing kid, the Lab getting exposed for government corruption. “Things have gotten better now though.” He insists before distracting you with a warm kiss on the temple, or the cheek, or even the mouth.

Yes, you were at that stage now. Honestly, it was easy kissing Steve in between conversations over diner milkshakes or watching a movie on his couch. It was easy to let your little mission go when his lips felt so good on your neck, sharp teeth gently scraping the flesh there to make you gasp.

After all, Steve was far more interesting. He basically lived alone, his parents often away on business. He loved dogs, or rather dogs loved him, which is apparently a new thing. He was dependable, loyal, and sweet. He got excited when you came around, often getting close to you and always keeping a hand on you at all times. He loved his friends, and thrived in social settings. He used to be on the swim team, but often just lets you use his pool whenever you want to swim. He just sort of sits by the edge, almost guarding over you like Bernard used to do as a puppy.

He had a small temper, but was good at controlling it. He was cheesy, and romantic, and maybe just a bit clingy which you honestly didn’t mind.

It was still so early in whatever this was, but it didn’t feel that way with Steve. It was like he just meshed into your life overnight. You didn’t want to think about what would happen when you traveled back home, so you just decided not to for now. After all, everybody deserved a summer fling if they wanted one, right?

So, yeah, Steve was someone to you now. His kisses were becoming familiar, his hands finding a home on your hips. You hadn’t gone that far yet, other than letting him feel along your breasts which pulled the hottest groan out of him. You would have let him take you right then and there on his couch after that, but the phone rang and Bernard whined for dinner. It ended up being a cuddle and make fun of B-horror movies night, which was just as nice.

He was protective too, and maybe it’d be overbearing if it wasn’t him. He keeps you close in new places, often leading you and Bernard around if you let him. Bernard follows him around all the time, barking and whining, and letting out all manner of sounds. Steve responded with interest, carrying the one sided conversation with ease. It was adorable, he was adorable.

——

You got set back onto your mission about a month into your stay at Hawkins. One night, you were awoken by a screech outside your Inn window. You were alone, except for Bernard who was sulking the whole day without Steve.

Steve had canceled your date earlier. His apology was so strained, and quick that you couldn’t even answer him before he hang up.

“I’m sorry Honey, came down with something. I’ll call you tomorrow though, okay? Stay safe.”

It sucked, but at least you were going to talk to him later. Plus, it meant you could research at the library and make some progress on learning about the horrors of Hawkins.

A different noise comes, a howling one. There was something off about it, like a mimic of a howl instead of a real one. Bernard doesn’t care though. He lifts his head, howling along with it and you’re quick to sush him. You were not looking forward to getting kicked out of the only Inn in Hawkins.

Bernard whines and you sigh. “Do you really need to pee right now?” He whines again and you slowly slip out of bed. You pull on some better clothes, gather Bernard’s leash and your cane, before leading him out of the tiny complex.

It’s a chilly evening in Hawkins. The end of summer is whispering on the horizon. You were going to have to go home soon. Away from Steve, away from the mysteries that you hadn’t solved.

There's rustling in the trees ahead of you. A heavy crunch of branches and a sudden screech that has you pulling Bernard close to your body. The forest was the only place you could bring him to pee, the receptionist having made that very clear when he saw your dog.

“Someone let their pet shit in the hallway, ma’m.” He explained and you sighed and went with it.

Bernard whines, and tugs at the leash, but it’s not away from the scary sounds. No, he wants to go towards them. “Bern, no. Look, I know we joked about monster hunting, but-“ He whines again and keeps tugging at the leash. There’s another whine out in the forest, and it’s painful. Like the creature is crying out for someone, anyone.

Bern tugs at the leash again and this time you follow at his side.

The forest was scary for a number of reasons. You tripped on leaves and twigs, branches whacked you in the face. Fuck, you stepped into a puddle and now your shoe was wet. Still, you both persisted. You trudged along the path, Bernard gently whining and barking until an answering whine greeted him.

“What the fuck is that, Bernard?” You gasp, following your puppy until the shadowy world seems to lighten around you. A clearing in the forest. There’s a shape in the middle of it. Chestnut brown against the emerald green and dull mud of the ground beneath your feet. You get closer and Bernard whines again.

The creature whines back, and you're struck with the fact that this was a dog. A very big dog. You approach slowly. “Oh my god.”

You kneel down in front of it, and the creature whines again. It shifts closer to you, soft fur caressing your palms as the big dog all but shifts his body into your arms, hands caressing the thick, brown fur.

“What the fuck-“ You mutter, and the creature tenses. It makes a move to lean away, but you're quick to gather it close again with a soft, “No, no, no, it’s okay. It’s alright-“

You rub your fingers along the top ofl his head. “Where’s your owner, buddy?” You coo and the dog just sighs. Pressing his large head into your chest with a tiny whine. You carefully run a hand along his body, tensing when you reach a leg and he flinches. Something wet and sticky glazes your fingers and you’re suddenly very grateful Bernard brought you out here.

“What happened to you, baby? Oh, you poor boy-“

A snap to your right freezes you. The dog in your arms tenses, and the dog at your side whines fearfully.

Suddenly the dog is on his feet, persistently nudging you to yours. He growls at you, and the rumbling should scare you, but it doesn’t. “Wait, I’m not leaving you here-“

The dog barks again and Bernard barks back. There’s a barking match, and you try to get a word in but they aren’t listening. There’s another crunch of branches, and another howl similar to the one that woke you up.

Suddenly the bigger dog stamps a foot on the ground with a heavy sigh, growling at Bernard before letting out a put upon whine. Bernard yips back, licks your hand amd then takes off down the pathway.

Without you.

What the hell.

“Bernard! Wait-!” You turn to run after your dog, but you aren’t sure where he’s even going.

Chestnut, the name you decided to give the injured dog because this was getting confusing, is quick to run into your hands. Nudging your stomach and pressing his fur into your fingers.

Let me help. You can almost hear him say as he rumbles. His fur bristles as the creature gets closer and closer to your spot. Let me get you out of here.

“Okay.” You grip into his thick fur, and Chestnut nudges you with his cold nose before tugging you along into the dense forest. You try to keep up with him, but your cane isn’t really doing much to help you right now. Chestnut seems to agree because he takes the cane between his teeth and whines apologetically when he takes it out of your hands. He then ducks down, swooping between your legs and lifting you onto his back in a motion so smooth, he must have done it before.

“Chestnut, dude!” You yelp, leaning forward and holding onto him for dear life. The dog tilts his head, whines in confusion, before racing away from the spot when the creature behind you cries out again.

Even with his injured leg, Chestnut is fast. The wind whips against your skin and deafens your ears. You close your eyes to protect them, burying your face in his fur which was a woodsy scent.

Breaking out from the woods, voices suddenly cut through the rushing air.

“Over here!”

“Shit! What happened?!”

“Where is it, is it after you?”

The voices meld into one and you try to answer, but that horrifying screech cuts you off. You bury your face into Chestnut’s fur while the others scream in surprise.

“Jesus H. Christ, I thought you killed all of them?!”

“Doesn’t matter, get out of the way!”

Gun shots rang out over your head and you bury yourself deeper into Chestnut’s fur. He’s quick to run away from the fire, coming to stop a ways away before depositing you against a wall and handing over your cane. Not wanting to be alone, you reach for him but he barks. Ducking away and whining apologetically.

Before you could panic, a new bark sounds beside you. Bernard whines, pressing into your leg and you all but collapse into him. “Bern!” You sob, pulling him close to you while he licks your face and whines apologetically.

War rages just a ways away from you two. Guns shot through the night, growls and screeches made your ears ache. You held Bernard close to your chest, face buried in his matted fur as the battle raged on.

"El, now!"

There was a cry, a human one this time. A grotesque ripping and shredding followed along with a ghastly cry of pain until all grew quiet.

You slowly lift your head from your dog's fur, tears pooling in your eyes while you try not to whimper. Whatever that was, you were grateful you couldn't see it.

Soft, thudding footsteps came closer to you and Bernard. The irony scent of blood hit your nose and you sighed in relief as Chestnut gently woofed. Nuzzling your cheek with a whine, you lean into him.

"Thanks Chestnut, thanks for saving us." You murmur, scratching under his chin. He makes a rumble in his throat, nose brushing your cheek.

"Chestnut? But that's s-" The voice was cut off with a grunt as more footsteps came closer.

“Are you okay?” Another voice asked, this one actually pretty familiar.

“Robin?!”

The woman chuckles nervously as she crouches down beside you. “Hey. Bernard came to my door and led me here, thank god we made it in time.”

“Bernard- Wait, what? Bernard went to come find you?” You sat up, immensely confused as more voices overlapped. In the time between running from the monster and getting out of the forest, your boy had rounded up a collection of Pre-teens, Robin, and…the chief of police?!

“That’s one smart dog of yours.” Hopper’s gruff voice broke out amongst the gaggle of teens. “Wouldn’t stop barking till I got my ass out of bed.”

Bernard barks proudly, tail thumping with glee as he’s flooded with praise. You rub at his back, also just as proud but…confused. Very confused. How did he know? Your dog was smart, but even so, how?

Chestnut nuzzles into your chest and whines, breaking you out of your thoughts. “Oh my god, your leg- We need to get him to a vet!” You shift, but Chestnut makes a discontented noise. Somehow you knew it was a protest as he shook his head against your stomach. “You’re bleeding, you aren’t fine.” You insist, nudging at him despite how big and heavy he was.

There’s a snickering until another voice cuts through. This one is unfamiliar. “She’s right *Chestnut*, that’s one fucked up bite you got there.” He teases and the younger party breaks out in a few giggles, mainly between the boys. Chestnut barks at them and you run your hands along his soft fur.

“I’m sorry! It’s just his hair looks like chestnuts and I didn’t want to keep calling him ‘The dog’ and-“

“Well yeah, that’s a wolf in your hands, Sweetheart.” The voice coos, stepping closer. The figure was wearing a ton of black, and the jingle of chains registers in your ears. Chestnut gives a warning growl at the man, and he chuckles. “Sorry, sorry. Name’s Eddie, and he’s gonna be okay. He’s already starting to heal, see? Touch the wound.”

You brush a hand over the once bitten flesh, gasping as all you felt was a scab forming. “Wait, how, what-“

“You gonna tell her, or do I?” Eddie asks, but his voice is directed to the comfortable dog, no, wolf in your lap. Chestnut sighs, letting out a small huff of an answer before slowly rising from your body. He walks away, and you sit there for a second. “Tell me what, where’s he going?”

“Just give him a minute, he kinda needs to get decent. You almost done over there man?”

“You try putting on pants over a wound, Munson!”

…..

“Steve?!”

————

—

-

[entities-of-posts]

What do you think of this dream creature. I used to dream about shadow creatures a lot. They're these very tall, vaguely human-shaped blobs of pitch black shadow, with piercing white eyes, and an aura of fear that causes the air to grow slightly staticky when they're nearby. They usually lurk in dark or dimly lit places with nobody around and wait for people to stumble upon them, and can possess people, though sometimes they don't attack and just watch. Victims of the shadow creatures who've been possessed look like shadowy silhouettes of themselves with glowing eyes, though they can appear normal but with something off about them. I used to dream about these creatures all the time, sometimes the dream wouldn't even be about them and they'd just be encountered by accident, but now it's very rare and only when I'm notably stressed out irl.

The very first dream in which I encountered this creature was notably memorable -it took place inside a school that had been twisted into a labyrinth of twisting, not-well-lit halls scattered around, with the entrance hallway being a very long, dark hallway with light at the end, and at the end of the dream, I went into a room that had the lights off not realizing the increasingly weird atmosphere was coming from a creature hiding in there, and the person who was with me got possessed and then they jumpscared me (which woke me up). They have appeared in other dreams with the power to turn into a shadow creature voluntarily, and I've since been inspired to use this character in my creative writing.

The Dark

[amandacanwrite]

Summoning Serotonin by Amanda Cessor

Content Warnings|| Heavy themes around depression, loneliness, failure. Mentions of suicide. Please let me know if there are any I missed. Summary|| A desperate human summons a demon in the hopes that they can trade their soul away for a neurotypical brain and a break from their depression. A/n|| I very intentionally wrote this story without anything that identifies the narrator's gender. Please imagine who you see fit there, whether that be you or someone else.

Genre: Contemporary, Paranormal

So, I’ve decided to sell my soul to a demon.

I know what you’re thinking, that seems a little extreme, but, hear me out.

I have spent so much time, money and energy trying to fix myself. I’ve tried and tried and tried to rid myself of my myriad of mental illnesses, only to watch my life fall apart around me again and again and again.

At this point, I’m either going to sell my soul or off myself. Either way, I wind up burning in Hell. I might as well make the most of the years I have left on this dumpy planet before I spend eternity swimming in a lake of fire.

So, here I sit — on a Friday — that way I have the weekend to enjoy my newfound neurotypical brain. Who knows, maybe I’ll even take a shower.

Big plans, you know?

Honestly, I’m really surprised by how little is required to summon a lord of night? A little sulfur, some graveyard dirt, a few black candles, and a couple drops of my blood. Considering the state of things, it isn’t hard to part with.

I start by drawing a pentagram in chalk on a clearing I’ve made in the clutter and mess on my coffee table, using my sleeve to buff out a coffee ring on the cheap furniture. I place a black candle on one corner for fire, graveyard dirt on another to symbolize earth, sulfur on another for the element of air, a glass of red wine on yet another corner for water. Finally, at the very top, I prick my finger and smear a fat glob of blood to link the spell to me and to represent the fifth element of the soul.

“Hear me, O, knights of Hell,” I say, my voice warbling with my own embarrassment. “Rise from your fiery pit and heed my call!”

This is all the ritual said to say, but once done, I only catch the faint whiff of the sulfur and watch as black wax trickles down onto my already-ruined coffee table. I run a hand through my oily hair and sigh. I’m stupid to think this would work. I’m stupid for even trying it.

I’m about to head back to bed and sleep the day away when the doorbell rings. I jump at the sound — I have visitors so infrequently that I have long forgotten what it even sounded like.

I stand up and go to the door, peeking through the grimy, smudged peephole. Outside of my door, I see a vaguely person-shaped blob. I figure it’s a neighbor that’s come to complain about the smell of rotten eggs. I unlock the door and open it, finding a smartly dressed man with black hair.

And … horns?

Oh.

“You called a demon?” he asks.

“Uhh …”

“May I come in?”

“Yeah, of course.” I scramble as I step out of the way.

He lets himself in and strides to my sofa where he sits and wrinkles his nose at the lingering odor of the sulfur I had used to call him. Then again, I haven’t been able to clean the apartment in the last two months. So, maybe he’s reacting to that.

I shift between my feet awkwardly, and he pats the seat next to him, beckoning me over.

I come sit with him, and he snaps his fingers, producing a manila folder with my name on it. He opens it. A pen materializes and drops into his hand, and he jots something down.

I can’t see what he’s writing.

“Alright, so why did you summon me today?” he asks.

“Uhm — I was hoping to make a trade.”

“Mhm — and what are your proposed terms?”

“My soul? For uh —” I sputter, “a properly functioning brain and ample neurotransmitters?”

He lifts his head and looks at me, his eyes scanning from my greasy hair to my stained T-shirt to the sweatpants I never bother to wash.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but Hell is rather overpopulated right now,” he says as he sets my file off to the side. “We aren’t really trading for souls unless the soul in question is rather remarkable.”

I stare at him for a solid fifteen seconds.

“Are you telling me,” I say, “that I’m such a mess that I can’t even trade my soul away for some peace?”

“I’m telling you,” he responds, “that between all the politicians, the billionaires, and the mega-corporate CEOs, we don’t have much space for anyone else. And, to be quite honest with you, your soul is worth more than a trade for mental health.”

I let out a laugh. It sounds unhinged.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you when I work up the gumption to end it,” I retort.

“Unlikely, we don’t take suicides anymore either.”

He scans my apartment again and then looks at me.

“You’re not in treatment.”

It’s not a question.

“What’s the point if it can’t fix my broken brain chemistry?”

“It isn’t about fixing you, there’s nothing to fix.”

“I can’t get out of bed before one in the afternoon. I haven’t showered in five days. I have no friends, and I can’t keep a tidy home. How can you say there’s nothing to fix?”

“Those are just symptoms of an illness.”

“Yes — the illness I’d liked to cure,” I say. “I just want to be normal.”

“What is normal? Who’s to say that I grant you the cure for your depression, your anxiety, and your ADHD and you don’t later wind up with some other problem down the line that you can’t control? Illnesses just require a little management.”

“I don’t want to manage it. I want to cure it. I can’t be happy until I fix it.”

My tone is getting more and more angry. Tears burn my eyes. The demon sighs and looks around my apartment again. He stands and begins to gather garbage in his hands. Empty instant noodle cups, candy wrappers, soda cans.

“Do you know anyone with diabetes?” he asks.

“What does that have to do with anything?” I ask.

He goes into my kitchen and grabs a trash bag and starts filling it with garbage. Anything he can find.

“You don’t see diabetics giving up on life because their bodies can no longer process sugar the way everyone else’s can. They take medicine, they find alternative sweeteners, they learn how to work around their malfunctioning pancreas.”

I watch as he continues to clean my apartment, waving his hand like he’s Mary Poppins and levitating a stack of my books onto my bookshelf. I wince as he opens my blinds and my windows. A breeze flows into the room and I realize just how stuffy it’s been lately.

“Why should your mental health be treated any differently?” he continues.

“Diabetes doesn’t ruin friendships?” I say, almost annoyed with the comparison.

“Says who? Alcohol metabolizes as sugar. What if your friends only like to drink and party? What do you do when you can’t drink anymore?” he points out.

“Those don’t sound like very healthy friends," I say.

As soon as the words tumble out of my mouth, he sets me with a deadpan look. One perfect brow arched as if to say you’re proving my point, you idiot.

“Losing friends because of your mental health is more of a reflection of those friends, not you," he tells me, just incase I can't put it together myself..

“But, I get so clingy and needy. I lose my mind with people.”

“Because you’re not in treatment. Those things get better when you go to therapy and start taking medication for your poorly functioning synapses. You learn tools to regulate your emotions, and you find people who understand you when you can’t regulate.”

He tosses a dishrag at me and starts doing my mountain of dishes. I stand up and join him at the sink and a quiet falls between us as we work away at the stinking pile. I put them away as I dry them. When the pile is nearly done, I finally ask him.

“Why are you doing this?”

He looks at me before looking back to the dish he’s rinsing.

“You’re in a bad way. You just need a little stepping stone. A clean flat is a good start. Then, maybe after a long shower, we’ll call some doctors and schedule you an appointment so you can get the treatment you need,” he says. “If you don’t feel better after getting the help you need, I’ll take your soul. But you better think of something more fun to trade for than curing your depression. Give me a challenge, for God’s sake.”

I laugh first.

And then I cry.

The kind of crying that seems endless — streams and streams of tears that seem to come from some bottomless reservoir. He pats my back, and I feel catharsis for the first time in months. Maybe even years.

Is this what it’s like when someone understands you? When someone can see your pain and can speak directly to it?

“I can’t believe I had to summon a demon to get something so small as help cleaning my apartment and scheduling a doctor’s appointment,” I say.

“I bet there are people around you that would have been happy to help you — I bet you struggle with asking.”

“It’s hard,” I say through hitching tears. “I’m so ashamed.”

He nods and offers me a black handkerchief; I take it and wipe the wetness from my face.

“It gets easier once you get the help you need. Medication, therapy — those are stepping stones too. And once you’re well enough to do these basic care tasks, then you can tackle finding friends that care about you, curating goals and dreams you want to accomplish,” he says. “Living is a lot easier when you have something to live for.”

I have no idea how he reads me to filth, but I appreciate it.

“Now into the shower with you — I’ll get the flat cleaned in the meanwhile," he says with doting fussiness.

When the demon is ready to leave about four hours later, my apartment is spotless. It smells like peaches (he gave me some scented candles), and I have both a therapy and psychiatrist appointment booked for the following week. It has been a long time since I felt hopeful. For once, I see light at the end of the tunnel.

When he stands to leave, I don’t want him to go. He seems to sense this because he sighs and looks at me.

“I’m afraid I can’t stay, but you know where to find me. I’m your caseworker now, so if you have need something — and I do mean desperately need —” He holds out his hand, and I watch curiously as a wisp of black smoke spins there, faster and faster, thicker and thicker, until it solidifies into a band of black stone, “use this. Spin it on your left index finger three times counterclockwise, and I’ll come to your aid.”

He holds it between his elegant fingers and drops it into my hand. I slide it onto my index finger, and it fits perfectly. Made just for me.

“How do I repay you for everything?” I ask.

“The sulfur and blood will do. I’ll check in after a few months and see how you’re faring,” he says.

I nod and smile at him. “Thank you, again, for everything.”

His lips curve slightly in an enigmatic smile.

And, then, he is gone.

____________________________________________________

I hope you enjoyed this little short story. It's one that is very near and dear to my heart and represents conversations I've had with heartbroken friends and also, myself. Sometimes things are hard and we need a helping hand. If you are thinking of harming yourself, please call or text 988 (if in the US) or find your local crisis hotline here.

Tagging a few people who stated interest in reading this: @carrotsinnovember @whateverwarrior @lightningsrikes @a-crystallen-author @jessicagailwrites @artbyeloquent @csdarkfantasy @dyrewrites @dru-reads-writeblr

(PS I'm blown away that of you were excited for this little story, I really hope you liked it and that it didn't disappoint.)

[heroloverangel]

Double the Fun

Fatgum is best dad don’t @ me.

Being pregnant sucks, you’ve come to realize. You’re only eight weeks along and already you’re ready for this to be over. You’re constantly nauseous. Your clothes are uncomfortably tight around your middle. You’re sore and tender in so many places you can’t imagine how you’ll survive nine whole months of this.

You wanted this, you remind yourself as Taishiro helps you get comfortable in the exam room. There’s nothing in the world you wanted more than to start a family with him a few months ago, and he’d been so happy he’d cried when that pregnancy test came back positive. Now you’re waiting to get your first ultrasound and seriously wondering if you should have just gotten a puppy instead.

“Toyomitsu,” the doctor is annoyingly cheerful when he greets you and begins checking your blood pressure. “How have things been going lately?”

“Uggggghhhhhhh,” you whine dramatically, flopping back against the padded headrest.

Fatgum takes over for you. “It’s been awful, doc. She’s eating like she’s tryin’ to dethrone me in a contest but just throws it all up later. Is that normal?”

“Increased appetite and frequent nausea are to be expected, it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“Okay but it’s feeling a little excessive now,” you argue. “And I’ve gained ten pounds already, isn’t that kind of a lot?” You watch the older man scratch out a few notes on your file, nodding slowly.

“I have some ideas, but I’d like to get a look at the ultrasound first if you don’t mind.”

You’re a little comforted that he doesn’t look worried, and you’ve been eagerly anticipating this visit for weeks. “Yeah, that’s fine.” A few minutes later there’s a cold gel slathered all over your middle and the magic wand running along your stomach. “You’ll tell us if you see anything weird, right?” The doctor nods and taps a few buttons. Beside you, you hear Taishiro’s breathing stop as the image comes into view and you get your first look at your child. There’s not much to see yet, at this point it’s more of a vague blob than anything actually human-shaped, but that’s not the point. “Oh my god,” you say quietly. Suddenly all the discomfort you’ve been feeling vanishes as you stare at the screen. “Tai, look. That’s our baby.”

“Hey kiddo, you’re doing a great job in there,” he gushes, your hand wrapped snugly in his giant fingers.

“Everything looks perfectly fine,” the doctor assures you. “Now if you’d like to see something interesting…” he shifts the wand slightly and you notice something else in your belly. “It looks like my suspicions were correct.”

“What is that?” You squint and lean forward as best you can, trying to get a better idea of what you’re working with. “Is that bad?”

The older man laughs. “Far from it. That’s a roommate.”

“A…roommate?” You’re confused for a moment, but Taishiro puts the pieces together immediately.

“Cupcake, that’s another baby! We’re having twins!”

Your eyes go wide and you stare from your husband to the doctor in surprise. “Twins? Really?”

He smiles. “Yes, that would explain the increased side effects you’ve been feeling. More babies mean more work for your body, unfortunately.”

You watch them wordlessly, your eyes darting between one little blob to the other as your doctor drones about something you can’t waste any attention on. Fatgum’s hand stays firmly around yours, equally focused on his children on the screen. “I can’t believe it, sugar. We’re getting two for the price of one.”

You nod distractedly, too overwhelmed with the surprise to consider anything else. “And they’re both okay in there? I’m doing this right?”

“Yes, they’re both looking perfectly healthy. We always recommend more appointments when there’s multiple births involved, but there’s no reason to assume you’ll have anything but a standard, uncomplicated pregnancy.” It’s hard to tear your attention away from your babies, but you force yourself to focus. “Make sure you’re eating a healthy diet with plenty of fruits and vegetables, and don’t overdue it on physical activity.”

Thirty minutes later, you’re fully dressed and checked out with the receptionist, your next visit scheduled and a new library of information to read. Your husband’s been stuck to your side the entire time, practically radiating with excitement. “Twins, honeybun. It’s gonna be amazing.”

“I know, right?” You sound breathless, you’re still too awestruck to calm down. You wrap your arms as best you can around your mountain of a husband and find yourself lifted off the ground as he returns your hug. In this position, it’s obvious when your stomach rumbles and both of you laugh. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

He grins, eyes crinkling with happiness. “Takoyaki it is.”

[n7priv]

how do you start sth like this even?..

uhm, hi, so; recently i picked up this video game, i bought it cause i really loved another game its creators made and i wanted to check out their previous work. i'm talking about citizen sleeper (which this post isnt about but this is totally an amazing experience!!!) and jump over the age's first game;

in other waters

its a game about Ellery Vas, a xenobiologist in their dive suit following the tracks of Minae, a former work colleague and friend, onto an exoplanet (which btw is a real planet, but — as far as i know — isn't filled with water and life) and discovering what happened there.

however, your (the player's) point of view is not that of either one of these two friends, but instead that of the supporting AI inside the dive suit (kinda like siri but cool bc its you).

and this is where my adoration for this game comes from:

all you get to see is a user interface.

the mesmerizing wide depths of the ocean, the new species you discover in these foreign waters, the multiple suns that never set because of the tidally locked orbit of the planet,

you get to see none of it.

all you get, is a navigation interface on a map consisting of vague shapes in three, maybe four, colors max at a time;

the AI's POV.

and yet, the game still manages to deliver its environments and story convincingly.

shallow waters feel shallow, depths feel deep, hazardous areas feel toxic, life feels alive, Ellery feels like a person, a scientist who's working together with you to find out what happened to their friend, and to the life on this planet, and you feel responsible for your human.

i'll leave you with a few more screenshots, maybe you'll see what i mean:

apart from the obvious (the colors) it's also the interactions with Ellery that make this game feel so;; alive

they describe the world to you, though not always directly, sometimes you have to read their diary entries, their research notes, their coments on landmarks.

as you explore and scan and sample the different life forms around you, you unlock taxonomy entries for different species, and completing research on each of them will unlock a sketch of the life form from Ellery

(spoiler ahead i guess; just one example)

you end up caring for them because they are your eyes, your window into the real (well, as real as video games get) world, and yet, the only way you can communicate with them is occasionally answer yes or no to a question.

or is it? because i felt that through my actions in the game i was showing them i cared, and i that wanted to help. the entire game felt like a conversation between me and this somewhat lost scientist. when they thanked me for helping them out and looking after them, it feels heartfelt and appropriate; not cold and out of nowhere because "we need a bonding moment"

also, the soundtrack and sound design of this game just create the perfect atmosphere:

so, tldr, i am amazed by how jump over the age conveys this foreign environment, makes me care for their characters, and tells their story convincingly, all with nothing but a few colored lines n blobs, a bit of text, and a wonderful soundtrack.

tldr^2: in other waters is an amazing video game.

thanks for reading if u made it this far ‹3

- Lu

[mutable-manifestation]

The Ghost King (of Miscommunication) Ch. 19

Part 1-12,Part 13,Part 14,Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18

Part 19!

***

If you ignored the skeleton-people (Jason sure was) and the floating furniture, the castle almost reminded Jason of Wayne Manor. In a vague sort of way. Lots of rooms, lots of hallways, a garden, a library, a giant dining room, etc.

It is much bigger than the manor, though. The building itself turns out to be thirteen stories tall, same as the library.

It needs it.

“It was already big when it was just the last king’s castle, but then there were three and eventually eight - now nine - permanent residents - not to mention the frequent guests and the standard visitors - which has grown it to what it is today,” Danny tells him, filling the silence as they fly.

Their first destination is the garden biome.

Rather than carved from the garden, the stone path he’d seen floats in the air just above the low-growing plants beneath, keeping stomping feet from causing damage while also providing shade.

The seating areas aren't floating. Instead, the picnic area and the benches here and there are all formed from still-growing trees, apparently shaped over their lives to serve their purpose while remaining healthy and alive.

The picnic table itself appears to be made from a single tree which rises from the ground and curls left to form a table and benches before reuniting in a single trunk to curl up and over as an awning to the whole thing.

“This area is Sam’s” Danny continues, drifting slower to admire a trio of what appeared to be potted bouquets. “My wife-”

“Wife? Aren’t you, what, 15?” Jason risked interrupting - for all the needle-threats and implied expectation of obedience (and the underlying sense of strength that radiated at all times, a memory of the title ‘Great One’ echoing always in the back of his mind) Danny had been… nice.

He hadn’t been bothered by Jason dunking him in snow, hadn’t gotten angry when he’d hesitated at the edge of the Far Frozen or held them up to stare at the island’s sky. He figured small talk was safe enough.

Danny merely snorted, shaking his head. “Nah, I’m actually 114. Appearances here don’t mean a lot since the only ones that age are neverborns and naturalborns. And shapeshifters, I suppose.”

‘Chalk another one up for the fae theory’ Jason thinks, remembering tales of humans spirited away to unending parties and returning to find hundreds of years had passed without them.

Aloud, he asks, “...Neverborns?”

“Kind of what it says on the tin, really. Neverborns are never born, instead rising into existence from the ambient ectoplasm of the zone. They can vary immensely, though - from a tiny little blob with eyes to the concept of time given form.”

“Let me guess: a small green clock?” Jason jokes in lieu of the dozen new questions he wants to ask.

He’s glad Danny is so forthcoming with answers, and now he knows can ask more later, better not to distract the guy and risk missing something important on the tour - or hitting up against an unknown time constraint because he delays them too much.

Danny snorts a laugh, grin nearly cheek-splitting. “Not wholly incorrect. Anyway, you’ll get to meet Sam tonight at dinner, since she managed to finish up that recovery project a day early.”

“Recovery?” Jason asks - though he’s pretty sure he can guess. Being prompted to talk about oneself endears the target to the askee - that’s being a Wayne 101. More endearment equals more trust, which will make his eventual escape easier to manage. Yay for false senses of security.

(Just like the one Jason has been struggling with)

“Yeah! She does plant cataloging, conservation, and restoration. She also started dabbling in medicines a decade ago in conjunction with Jazz and Frostbite. She’s gotten really far with it considering everything else on her plate!”

Danny’s smile stays proud and content as he leads them inside to weave through the layers of the tree-tower. Jason can’t help relaxing the more they talk, the more answers he is freely given.

(He has to relax less, stop letting himself slip into trusting Danny. Danny shouldn’t feel like safety.)

(A part of him misses the Pit - it never would have let him fall prey to this kind of self-sabotaging emotional positivity - but isn’t that it’s own kind of Stockholm Syndrome?)

Despite the lush paradise just outside, the castle itself contains even more plantlife.

The tower is reminiscent of the library in that he can’t see the actual walls beyond the plants that cover them, a sheet of green - and other intense colors he wouldn’t normally associate with plants - cascading from ceiling to floor. The entire first floor is practically overflowing with the amount and variety, enough to put the garden outside to shame. The next seven levels are more of the same.

Then they come to what looks like labs - where Danny tells him medicine and ‘the opposite of medicine’ is dabbled in.

Wulf beelines straight through the ceiling to minimize his time in that room, and Danny doesn’t let him linger, suggesting that this one is better to avoid or “at least don’t touch anything.”

Danny practically races through the next two rooms - a large study and a conference room - grumbling out a simple ‘paperwork.’

Jason leaves it at that. He ran a gang; he gets the idea.

“And this is the sitting room!” Danny stops in the next room, arms spread to gesture at everything as he floats in the center.

It’s smaller than the lower floors, perhaps half the size, and is positively littered with beanbags, hammocks, armchairs, and one cushion-filled pit in the floor.

Instead of the plants from the lower floors or the ink-black bark of the labs, the walls here appear to be made of glass, glowing the same soft lavender as the leaves that can be seen curling around the room from all sides - save for a ladder in one corner of the room that disappears into the ceiling.

“The ones in the towers are private, though - just for friends, family, etc,” he explains. “The castle ‘s pretty empty now, but it can get really busy. If you need a place to escape to, you're welcome in any of them.”

Jason just nods.

It had already been clear that Danny was socially important, what with all the ‘Great One’s and the ‘meetings’ and the ‘my home is a literal castle.’

The three towers would be key locations; he and his spouse could be combatants in charge of this wing - or all three, given the implication of ‘any of them.’

Though nothing about the tree tower really screamed ‘military defense location.'

‘Some kind of royal relative?, Jason ponders, ‘Maybe a prince?

Maybe.

He’ll ask later.

Danny offers his hand again and phases them straight across the empty space between towers and into the private sitting room in the pyramid.

It’s a near mirror of the other one, save for the artificial scenery of a day on the beach projected over every surface - illusory water just barely reaching the cushion-pit before retreating back to the far wall.

“This is Tucker’s area - my husband. You’ll also meet him at dinner tonight. He’s already here, but he’s locked away in pyramid-lab 1 - the closest one of the three outside - updating his PDA.”

Jason nods as he scans the ceiling - the roof is flat instead of pointy, and once again the only break is a ladder into the ceiling.

“What’s up there?”

“Hm? Oh, the top floor of each tower is a bedroom.”

The rest of the pyramid-tower’s floors are similarly thematic, 16 levels full of tech that Jason couldn’t place and Tim would likely be salivating over - 18 depending on how the illusion projector worked and if the bedroom had something similar.

Unlike the garden, they skip visiting the pyramids outside - apparently two of them are mostly for paperwork and meetings, and pyramid 1 is closed up for now ‘for the obvious reason.’

‘It’s not obvious. Literally what part of a system update requires complete isolation???’

The next part of the tour brings them to an entire separate building inside of an empty room the size of the library.

“This is my parents’ area - they’re off on a hunt with Skulker right now, so it’ll be a few days before they’re back.”

It was a normal building, aside from the fact that it was inside of a castle and had a metal monstrosity on top of it with “SPECTER” written in bright green letters.

As it happened, the rooftop monstrosity could turn into a blimp. Or a jet.

The first and second floors were almost jarringly normal - bedrooms and closets set atop an open kitchen-dining-den setup that looked like something out of a Metropolis apartment advert.

Then it was rooms of giant open space - a shooting range, a training room, a training room with a simulator.

And then labs reminiscent of the ones in the tech-tower. Except instead of tasteful, high-tech builds there were labfuls of half-built devices that looked like a sci-fi novel threw up (so like the ones in the dining area and on his wrist).

The top three floors were armories full of similar devices, of which the top one was off-limits for being too dangerous. A few of the things in the second armory looked a bit sleeker, however.

One thing looked familiar.

“Is that a 9mm?”

It had the same hideous silver paint-job as the sci-fi weapons, but the only green was around the muzzle and trigger - no ‘Specter’ splashed across the side.

Danny’s eyes lit up alongside a shit-eating grin the moment they hit the weapon, and he practically teleported to it.

“Oh man,” he enthused as he uncaringly removed the weapon from its place on the wall, “I completely forgot about this thing; this is the Foley Bazooka.”

“Bazooka!?”

“I know right! Tucker figured out how to miniaturize the tech - my parents design, the big gun from Armory 1 - into a fold-out system. He and Sam used to mainly use lipstick blasters and wrist rays, and as you can see my parents' tech tends to be ‘bigger = stronger,’ which set some expectations…the look on Walker’s face when it folded open to blast him…”

Danny visibly tried and quickly failed to stifle his laughter, doubling over cackling while Jason took in the whole ‘blasting people in the face with Bazookas’ thing.

Thankfully for Jason’s Gothamite sensibilities, Danny’s laughter didn’t last too long.

And then.

“Wanna test it out?”

“...test it out?” Jason hastily shoved down the paranoid thought that Danny might be about to shoot him in the face.

(Not that it took much shoving when he felt so utterly safe.)

‘He wouldn’t keep me this long just to kill me now, he probably just meant the shooting range.'

“Yeah! Jazz said you seemed pretty enthusiastic about the Wrist Ray, so I thought you might want to try this out down at the range. It’s an older model, but it’s small enough to carry without needing some kind of sling-suit. Plus I figured you might like a higher-power option on hand - assuming you decide to keep it.”

Then, despite his better judgment, Jason asked: “...aren’t you worried I might shoot Wulf or something?”

‘Or you.’

“Of course not! Jazz already told me you have great aim,” he said, completely missing the point. “Unless, of course, you want to?”

His friendly expression didn’t change beyond a slight head tilt. Wulf merely snorted and bared his teeth in what might’ve been a smile.

“N-no!” Jason hastened to deny, “No, of course not, it’s just, y’know, a bazooka.”

Danny merely placed the gun back on its platform and floated forward to lightly grasp Jason’s shoulder and look him in the eye, expression softening in complete disregard for what his response really should have been.

“Jason, I know it might be a bit of an adjustment given how humans abhor violence - especially given the…brand of it... Gotham tends towards - but here? Fighting is just. Socializing. Not that there aren’t still serious fights, but the difference is almost always obvious given the whole ‘tendency towards unrestrained emotions and monologuing’ thing.

The risk of anyone getting seriously injured in a social fight is incredibly close to zero. It’s normal to want to fight; it’s like the human equivalent of saying ‘hello nice to meet you let’s get to know each other better’ combined with sibling roughhousing. Even most of the fights that do contain genuine animosity or disagreement would mostly just be the equivalent of a heated debate in the human realm. It’s okay if you’re feeling fighty - a good sign, even!”

Wulf nods along as if that makes perfect sense.

Jason uses the silence that ensues to try to think of a way to say ‘Actually no I just want to know why you would let me have something I could use as leverage to threaten you into letting me go home, which is a thing that I want to do because I like not being kidnapped’ without making it obvious that he’s a flight risk.

Before he can, Danny’s understanding and patient expression turns into an unholy grin. Jason has all of 2 seconds to process it before the hand on his shoulder disappears in favor of a tackle-grab.

He doesn’t know how fast the guy can go, but he barely has time to blink before he’s being dropped into a snow pile.

When he sits up, he is promptly greeted by a snowball to the face.

So marks the beginning of Snowball Fight 2: Battle Royale.

Danny’s second move is to wave a snow mound into existence for protection.

Wulf is opportunistic, siding with Danny initially, only to switch sides when Jason manages to lure them into the trees - where he can make use of their surroundings as protection in lieu of being able to make snow appear on a whim like a cheating cheater who cheats - and beans Danny in the face - vengeance enacted and vision obscured.

Eventually Danny and Jason end up teaming up against Wulf, which is when a new player arrives.

Jason can’t see her right away, given that their opening move is to empty a tree’s worth of snow onto their heads.

And when Danny frees them they both immediately get snowballs to the face - it’s becoming a bit of a pattern for Jason.

“Woo! Weeb Team versus Newb Team let’s gooo!”

The girl looks like she could be Danny’s fraternal twin if not for the fact that she was clearly a year or two younger.

Then again Danny was over a hundred years old, so what does Jason know?

“Newb!? I’m literally older than you!” Danny shouts, floating a little higher in offense.

“Then fight like it, old man!”

The girl fades from sight just in time for Danny to get knocked forward by a snowball to the back of the head.

Jason barely manages to dodge Wulf’s snowball, distracted as he was from the surprise attack.

With that, Snowball Fight 2 descends into a team battle.

***

@kyrianclawraith, @do3y, @someonebored0100 @omegasmileyface

[iztea]

hi! I saw your post about critiquing another persons art work and it made me realize i dont like my current drawing process

Mostly because I have shaky hands and don’t really like line art because it takes me too long and i still dont like how it looks so im trying to switch to a more painterly style

Do you have any advice? Particularly on defining 3d forms?

P.S.

(I love your art style! You draw so beautifully and I love how you stylize anatomy and hair particularly)

yeah i feel you, i think everyone starts digital art with a lineart heavy style in mind and then gradually drop it as it is pretty hard to master

i'm not sure i'm the best person to ask about defining 3D forms as i myself struggle with that, but i thing that i noticed is that if you don't have a stable base or foundation to paint over then the process will become exponentially harder. So what i do is i make sure i have a cohesive sketch. Not a clean one, not a pretty one, but one where i am sure where everything goes and one that helps me predict and better visualize how things will end up once i get there. If the sketch is so messy to the point where i can't tell a leg apart or i don't know the general form of the fabric then i'll have a much, much harder time rendering later on.. So i think making sure the "skeleton" of your art is set in place. Again it's not about it looking good or clean it's about knowing what you'll be doing with it in the later stages.

But let's say you do have a clean sketch, or even lineart. I think the easiest way to give form to your subject is by choosing a light source ( it doesn't have to be dramatic, it can just be ambient light ) and then paint shadows in the areas where light can't reach. It depends on your style really, but for me i use a darker (but still saturated) color under the chin, under the eyes, where the bangs/hair meets the face and for the nose area i kinda just make a blob (i don't paint noses that much as you might have noticed bdshj but you know,, check out other artists you like and examine how they handle shading). Just try to think of everything as oversimplified shapes. limbs are cylinders, the torso is like a parallelipiped or a box or a sack of beans or whatever you see fit, the head another box etc... just keep it simple, Less is more

Oh and also, for a painterly style, i suggest avoiding overkilling it with the rendering. Let the brush strokes speak for themselves and keep it vague/ abstract. Our brains are smart and they loove filling in blanks for us if they're given some general information so let the viewer do the hard work, don't explain everything.. this is also a good way to practice developing an artstyle but i'm getting off topic if i wasn't blabbering enough already. A painterly style is imperfect and messy and vague at times and you should let it be that way, don't force perfection onto it as you'll deprive it of humanity these are my two cents on the matter hope it made sense and helped in any way? if not you can always watch yt videos or listen to more qualified people than me

[moonknightproductions]

Non-human design for Yami-Yugi, created with some help from a few polls I ran! Commentary and closeups under the cut

Since the poll results were feathered wings, I decided to take some Horus inspiration and make them hawk/falcon wings! Maybe a red-tailed hawk to match with Mana’s? Though I did put bars on the tail… The horns poll turned out to have long and curly as the winner so I went with Berfomet-inspired horns since that’s one of his key monsters during Battle City. The glow I imagine to be more like how a mirage shimmers to add to his incorporeal nature. This drawing is of how he looks during Duelist Kingdom, but I definitely won’t remember that I gave him the earrings so that’s subject to change.

Creature features! Sharp nails and teeth creating an air of danger with how pointy they are.

Another full-body, this time from Battle City/Orichalcos arc. He’s definitely less menacing/intense from hanging out with (inhabiting) Yugi, and honestly just wants a break from dealing with world-ending threats. (And yes that mug does say World Class Duelist, Sugoroku got it for Yugi originally but Yugi just gave it to Yami since he’s really the one winning the duels. Yami then insisted they share it so they do.)

More notes:

-His horns keep his hair contained, otherwise it’d look like this (also does when he overuses his powers):

-While the wings are functional, he prefers to float because it’s less effort and uses them mainly for intimidation. This also leads him to neglect preening so a monster spirit usually does it for him (not that he asked, they just fuss over him). They can sorta manifest while inhabiting Yugi, but they look more like vaguely winged-shaped blobs than actual wings so any threat displays he tries don’t work too well. The mind-crushing and resting menace face more than makes up for it though. Other than that, none of the non-human features appear as Yami-Yugi.

-The sun disk pattern around the third eye on his forehead constantly glows a soft yellow. The Eye of Wedjat still appears over this eye when using his shadow powers, but not to the same degree since there’s already an eye there. All of the extra eyes are functional but for like Ka or shadow realm vision (think Judai with Yubel’s eyes during s4 of gx). Main eyes also glow a little.

-Can interact directly with monster spirits while not inhabiting Yugi

-Can be independently corporeal for short periods of time but prefers inhabiting Yugi for corporeality (easier/more comfortable)

-Spends free time either wandering the Puzzle’s maze (looking for something but he doesn’t remember what?) or peering over Yugi’s shoulder

-Generally divine/royal aura about him

[lightofthemoonglow]

Hi idk if you take requests through here but I saw that you write for Milton Dammers and I'd love to request a short fic of him. Sfw or nsfw is okay

Yes, I do take requests! It’s just been a crazy time for me. And i lost the last half of this, but i wanted to get it out because you had been waiting for too long. But i did write some Milton stuff for kinktober that’s coming out tomorrow (10/16)

Summary: you only see him when you’re not fully yourself

Contains: some sort of relationship with a ghost. A lot of handwaving to get to the main plot. Mentions of divorce, infidelity

–

This had been your husband’s idea. Buying and fixing up this old hospital, turn it into a bed and breakfast or maybe some sort of museum. He had what everyone calls ‘fuck you money’, so it hadn’t really affected your finances. All it had required was for you to pick up and move to the other side of the country, leaving behind all of your friends and family. Thankfully as a writer, you can work from anywhere, even a camper parked behind a rundown old hospital.

The two of you hadn’t been the first to try and fix up the place. After some sort of incident back in the 90s, there had been renewed interest in the property. It had been passed around, one hopeful to another. So it’s not long before enough has been repaired for you to move in and actually live in the place.

But that had been long enough for your husband to get bored of the endeavor and leave. It’s a tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme. A man finds out the reality of a situation that is of his own making isn’t as fun as the fantasy and leaves his wife of nearly a decade for a lifestyle influencer that can’t even legally rent a car. And the wife is left picking up the pieces. You’ve seen this play out a thousand times in the three decades plus a few years you’ve been on this earth and it’s not fun being on the other side of things.

Since your name is on everything and the settlement is fucking amazing due to how things ended, along with alimony, you can afford to stay in Fairwater. So you do.

Not long afterwards, things start getting weird.

You wake up and you’re both exhausted and not where you had fallen asleep. Things have been moved and you don’t remember doing it. Sometimes, you swear that you can hear a voice and it’s like whoever he is…he’s standing right behind you. You can feel fingers on the back of your neck, sometimes even in your hair. Sleepwalking has been a problem since you were a child, that isn't a new thing. What's new is how you feel afterwards, this presence that has been lurking ever since you started doing it again.

So you install a camera that you get from some guy named Frank, who claims his stuff can see what the naked eye cannot and hope for the best.

When you watch the footage the night after, you drop your cup of coffee.

You’re up, you’re about, you’re talking to…something. It’s not much, but it’s definitely something weird. It’s a silvery blob that’s vaguely human shaped. You can see fingers form from the blob, you can see them reaching out, grazing your face before it flickers and then vanishes. There's a respectable distance between you and whoever, whatever this is. Someone wants their personal space and you wonder which one of you it is.

You want to know who this is. What he wants, if he wants anything.

–

Milton has seen so many people come and go from this place since he’s been here.

He isn’t trapped here. But he prefers to stay here, away from society. Away from the noise, the chaos of the world out there. Thanks to him, this place has not been occupied for long. But you won’t leave, no matter what he does. And it hits him that you haven’t noticed. In the haze that has come over you since your husband has left, you don’t care that things are out of place. The odd noises go unheard, even his presence is only noticed when you’re sleepwalking.

It’s as if you know what pain is, beyond what he’s witnessed. If only he still had the tools at his disposal that he’d had in life.

Five nights after you try that camera, you’re up again.

You move through the house in silence and Milton barely manages to shove a table in the way to keep you from falling down the stairs. You look right at him, as if seeing him for the first time even though he’s been following you since you got out of bed.

“I missed you,” you whisper, reaching for him in the dark, as if by instinct.

“You don’t. You can’t.” Because in the morning, you won’t remember this. You won’t remember this, standing with him in the hallway, talking to home with an ease people had never had around him when he’d been alive. You won’t remember him tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers going through the shell of it, unable to make contact for more than a second.

“Maybe one day, I will.”

And all he can do is hope that will come to pass.

[reverieaudios]

It's currently like 4 AM but I needed to write this down before I forget because for (maybe?) the first time I just had a dream about one of my characters and I'm still laughing

Okay so firstly I'm a lucid dreamer, always have been. Always have had really detailed and vivid dreams too. I'm almost always aware that I'm dreaming and have free will and all that. But also I've never been able to control anything other than myself in my dreams. Like I'll actively try to change something and it never works lmao.

And this'll make sense in a minute- I had been listening to a lot of studio ghibli soundtracks before I fell asleep tonight.

So just now I was dreaming, and suddenly Cyril shows up. I've never really put a lot of thought into my characters' appearances (they're always like vaguely human shaped blobs in my head while recording lol) but I knew this was Cyril. Just, it couldn't have been anyone else.

Also it's kind of freaky hearing someone else with "your" voice talk? Wouldn't recommend.

Anyway, I'm out in some kind of field and there Cyril is dragging this big burlap sack. He looks like he's been in the wilderness a while- he's disheveled, eyes wild, probably ate some kind of plant that he really shouldn't have.

Once he notices me watching him, he dramatically turns to me all wide-eyed with heaving breaths and grunts,

"Where's Totoro."

Then I woke myself up laughing and here I am telling you about it because it's 4 AM and I'm still laughing about it.