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mirnilop · 8 months

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𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓁 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 ˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ wally darling

⚠ tags: sfw, mob au, yandere!wally, gn!singer!reader, power imbalance, discussions of violence

♡ synopsis: you’d be surprised how many fans you accrue as a small-time lounge singer. while this is usually a good thing, one of yours happens to rule half the city, so he isn’t exactly receptive to the word “no”.

♡ word count: 5,310

⛧ﾐ‧*･ﾟ the following content may be triggering to some. please proceed with caution! ･ﾟ*‧ミ⛧

a/n: hello!! ₍ᐢ.ˬ.⑅ᐢ₎ goshh, my very first post on this acc!! i haven’t posted fanfic in a hot minute but i’m suuuper excited to get back into it!! 💞 i have sooo many wips for this fandom, it was difficult to choose which one to finish first! credit to @/clownsuu for creating the au and for the lovely art!! i tweaked the concept a wee bit so that it takes place in a roger rabbit-esque world where puppets and humans live together unharmoniously (with a jessica rabbit inspired reader ofc >v>). it was a lot of fun trying to marry wally's canon personality with a Scary Mob Boss (*´ 艸`) i can't wait to post more!! what are y'all's favourite aus? let me know!! ･*･:≡(　ε:)

There’s a rose on your vanity.

The sight of it snuffs out your high spirits, irritation igniting in its place– and it was such a good day, too! You and the girls were perfectly in sync for your entire performance, bolstered by the unusually affable audience; you even rewarded them with a sneak peek of new material, which made them go wild!

Dreams of stomping it beneath your heel stew in your head as you drop it in the faience vase at the rim of the mirror, where a crinkled, beige-tipped rose droops against the rim. Why not break the vase too? An idea that’s crossed your mind too many times, and while it gets harder to resist with each flower, you endure it. They’re presents, after all, and you doubt your admirer would take kindly to the news that you’ve trashed them. You’re certain one of his minions would obtain the evidence, if not witness you do it; you can’t pinpoint the extent to which they survey you, but the crawling sensation of eyes on your back crops up often, and obviously they have no problem barging into your dressing room to play delivery service.

Sighing, you comb through your rolling rack to pick a suitable outfit to change into. Most of the articles hanging are also gifts, but you’ve made sure to keep some of your own hard-earned clothes here out of sheer spite. A burgundy cashmere number has just slipped into your grasp when the door bursts open.

“How’s that for a show?! And what a great crowd, a whole buncha dolls! Or– well, puppets– and humans! Hahaha!”

Lottie skips in with her usual energy, the bell on her collar jingling alongside the clack of her Mary Janes. You hate that their manager mandates the bells as a part of their costumes, as if puppets being treated like second-class citizens wasn’t enough. “You wanna make money or not? It’s part of the appeal! You know, Mary Had A Little Lamb and all that!” is what he told you after one of your countless tirades regarding his treatment of them, but the sleazy smirk wrapped around his cheap cigarette allowed you to read between the lines. As much as you despise that man, it’s not your business to judge the trio for staying contracted with him. Mottie’s recalled to you how difficult it was to hire a manager at all, and you suppose you have to (begrudgingly) thank him for bringing them into your life, since he’s the one who bagged them the backup singer gig.

A swell of color in your peripheral lets you know that she’s come near, but you don’t bother diverting attention from your search. This is such a common occurrence between you two that pleasantries are no longer required.

“And they were mighty generous with the tips! So me and the gals was thinking we should go somewhere to… celebrate…”

Hearing her trail off, you turn to find her staring at the new rose, her once-perky ears fallen limp. You click your tongue, remorse prickling your heart, though you’ve done nothing wrong.

“I’ll be alright, Lottie. Here,” You grab a wad of bills from your personal tip jar and fold them into her hand. “You take your sisters somewhere nice, my treat. As an apology for having to skip out tonight.”

When she doesn’t move from her spot, merely pouting at you with big, glistening eyes full of concern, you swaddle her in a hug. Fleecy strands of shell pink hair tickle your nose as she nestles her snout into your shoulder, squeezing you like a lifebuoy. Having her in your arms is a vital reminder as to why you continue to put up with everything. Lottie, Dottie and Mottie are your beloved friends– your family when you had none– and you are willing to do whatever is necessary to build a life with them.

“Are ya sure?”

“Positive. And if that bug gives you even a whiff of trouble, you come get me right away, got it?”

She laughs, the sound a balm to the ache of your worries. “He never gives us any trouble– n’fact, I haven’t heard ‘im say a single word!”

“Good. At least one of them has manners. Now go have fun!”

After a few more hugs and a promise to relay your apology to her sisters, she trots towards the entrance. Halfway through it, she pauses.

“Promise ya’ll play nice?”

An involuntary grimace twists your face, which you smooth immediately.

“I was planning on it,” you concede, earning an exhale of relief from Lottie.

“Thanks. Honestly, I’m kinda worried...” She leans against the doorframe, gaze trained on the checkered floor. “I see more and more of that Napoleon-wannabe’s goons lately. Do ya think he’s gettin’ antsy? It’s been real quiet since that incident with Dorelaine.”

Ah, the incident. It happened a handful of months ago; he refused to go into specifics, but what you’ve gathered from his gnomic recount and various news stories is that their rival organization– led by Ronald Dorelaine, a human man– planted explosives somewhere important, racking up thousands in damages and dismembering several puppets, left to be mended with those horrific stitches. You didn’t receive another rose until several weeks afterwards.

“I can’t be sure,” you admit. “He doesn’t tell me much about the goings-on of the ‘family’, not that I care to know. But I noticed he’s been more wound up lately… maybe they’re going to retaliate?”

A visible shudder travels through Lottie, and she tosses her head as if to ward off the gravity of your predicament. It was easier to ignore the implications when there wasn’t an active turf battle.

“You’re right, we should stay as far as we can from that nasty business. Wear the red, then. To butter ‘im up a little.” She offers you a conflicted half-smile, most likely holding herself back from proposing a makeover, before sidling out the door.

Glowering, you follow the advice, shucking your tight, shimmering stage outfit for the cozy cashmere you were eyeing before. Like I need to be reminded of his favorite color. I’ve practically lived in red since I met him. It inexplicably fits like a glove, as do all of the clothes you've been bestowed; for the sake of your sanity, you prevent yourself from delving too far into that subject.

As you fix the little bits of your appearance that got mussed up during your performance, you can’t help but contemplate hiding in your room until morning, even though you know it wouldn’t work– and you’d have to pay for a broken front door. Once every speck of lint has been removed and your ensemble is flawless, you steel your resolve with a hard look in the mirror. If things go south, at least you’ll make a gorgeous open casket.

You step into your shoes and out of the dressing room, swiping your bag and a matching hat from the plethora that dangle on knobs affixed to the wall along the way. The haze that eternally permeates the lounge envelops you as you walk, no longer springing tears to your eyes like it did so long ago, when you were a starry-eyed fledgling. Upon entering the foyer, you call out to the owner, Gene, who’s counting the register behind the bar.

“Hey, I’m heading out!”

“Geez, you’re in a hurry! Got a hot date or what?”

“Something like that,” you breathe, your nerves relighting tenfold now that you’re so close to the outside.

“Ahh, I getcha.” His amusement is clear, construing an innuendo within your words that is absolutely not there, but you’d rather die than clarify. “You did a great job today, you deserve it!”

Somehow, your admirer has managed to limbo directly under Gene’s nose; thus far he’s made no indication that he’s aware he has a very important patron. For a moment, you observe him, and see how he absentmindedly rubs the pocket of his button-up– where a polaroid of his two children is safely tucked away– and you decide that it’s probably for the best.

“Thanks, Gene. Have a good one.”

“You too!”

His reply barely reaches you as you cross the threshold from the comfort of your work into the cold, pensive night. A luckier soul may have suffered a fright when greeted with the colossal figure standing below the street light, carved with shadow, but it’s a familiar sight to you now. An inconspicuous black car is parked behind him.

“Hi Howdy.”

“Evening, Mx.” He bows slightly, whisking open the sleek passenger door which you reluctantly slide inside.

“I wish you’d stop calling me that. I do have a name.” It’s true. Being addressed formally by such an important figure imbues you a with a sick feeling, like he’s won, and you’ve already been initiated into this fucked up institution.

Though he waits for you to finish speaking before shutting you in, he doesn’t grace you with a response; not that you were expecting one. In all the times he’s escorted you to these duress-dates, as you’ve taken to calling them, he’s remained stoic to a mechanical degree, acknowledging your presence and nothing more. Thrashing, crying, screaming– you’ve tried everything to escape, and have never elicited a reaction more severe than that of a tired parent handling a tantrum. If you resist, he simply manhandles you. It’s hardly a fair match, with him having 4 arms and several feet of height on you, so you opt to reserve your energy for dealing with his headache of a boss.

When he hauls his many limbs onto the driver’s seat, the car lurches, too small to accommodate a puppet of his stature; he has to hunch forward to see the windshield, antennae pushed flat. You lean back and vacantly turn towards the window, wondering if cars big enough for someone like him to drive comfortably even exist while the engine rumbles to life.

The umbrous cityscape passes you by, inklings of humans and puppets flashing in and out of the darkness like ghosts. Thick boughs of red and green tinsel are strung across a few lamp posts, but by the end of the season they’ll all be covered. Dottie’s already triple checked that you and her sisters have one day of the annual Christmas market off, even though you strike the same deal with Gene every year; the four of you get Saturday, then he gets Sunday to take his family. It’s one of your favorite times of the year, if only because you get to experience the aura of wonder that enlivens Lottie when the first snow falls, Mottie’s timid wheedling to attend The Nutcracker, and Dottie’s alphabetically-organized checklist of fun winter activities.

Those cheerful thoughts are wiped away as Howdy turns into a private garage attached to a sleek, angular skyscraper. He parks in the spot nearest to the entrance, the first in a row of spaces labeled with metal “Reserved for Staff” signs, and circles the car to let you out. The sensation of him gingerly lifting you comes with no alarm; he always assists you up the concrete stairs leading to the elevator, as if you’re so physically inept you can’t handle 3 tiny steps. You assume his needless precaution is for the same reason he hasn’t beaten you yet despite defying him so often: boss’s orders.

With a reedy knell, the elevator glides open, and Howdy signals for you to go ahead. Once you’re both inside, he inserts a key and presses the button for the uppermost level. Expecting a noiseless ride, you tune into the low muzak emitting from the speakers, which makes you miss the first time he calls you.

“Mx.”

Startled, you swivel towards him. His steadfast profile is unreadable.

“Boss doesn’t know you’ve opposed him so vehemently in the past. Please keep that in mind tonight.”

The entrance broaches before you can interrogate him as to what the hell he means, granting you entry to a luxury penthouse laved in gold, ivory, and– of course– red. A glimmering chandelier suspends from the ornamental ceiling, bathing the antique furniture in an amber glow. If you hadn’t just ridden up the elevator, you would have assumed such a lavish drawing room belonged to an old mansion.

It’s something straight out of a romance novel, except instead of a chiseled, broody Italian, it’s a short puppet sitting at the marble-topped dining table. He lounges at the head in a slate blue silk suit with its jacket buttoned to the top; an honor seemingly reserved solely for you, because it’s the only way you’ve seen him wear it, despite street tales describing the way it billows from his shoulders as he stalks the town. Revealed by its plunged neckline is the collar of a white dress shirt embossed with rainbow pinstripes, and a red ascot neatly tied and pulled askant around his throat.

Wally Darling, in the felt: kingpin of The Neighborhood, and resident thorn in your side.

When you arrive, he rises to meet you, dismissing Howdy with a pointed glance; you’ve learned that the relationship between a crime lord and his loyal bandog transcends language. You watch him as he leaves through a pair of swinging doors to the left, his cryptic advice-slash-warning heavy on your mind.

And so, you find yourself alone with the most dangerous man in the city– puppet or otherwise.

“Good evening, dearest. I hope my gift found you well.”

The concept of personal space might as well be Greek to Wally, since he hasn’t once respected it from the day you had the misfortune of making his acquaintance. He crowds so close that you have to crane your neck to see his face, the heat emanating from him eliciting shivers in your chill-soaked body.

“Yes, thank you. It was quite a lively night,” you chirp, wielding a civil smile.

Although the contours of his wispy, coiffed curls only reach your ribs, he extends his arm to you, which you take with such a featherlight hold that you barely brush his sleeve. Rather than leading you to the dining table like you expected, you’re guided towards a small lounge area to the side, the crackling croon of Billie Holiday wafting over from a refurbished stereo console in the corner. Oh, great. He’s feeling sentimental.

“Would you indulge me with a dance before dinner?”

Don't have much of a choice, do I?

“I’d love to.”

Dancing with Wally is funny, in an ironic sort of way; it certainly caught you off guard the first time he asked. When you envision dancing with a powerful, deadly mobster, you think of being swept away, wrapped snugly by strong arms and a dastardly smirk, or perhaps something more courtly, like a waltz steered by a polite hand on your waist. Turns out both versions are incorrect.

Muscle memory ushers your arms open, and Wally falls into the space in between them– literally. Slack against you, his full weight is heftier than his height would imply, but not physically uncomfortable– emotionally and morally, however, are another story. An air of pure peace washes over him as his cheek nuzzles the underside of your chest, arms limp at his sides; you swear you even hear a little trill. Your face burns, but you say nothing as you begin to sway faintly to the beat, tracing a loop with your feet as you traipse along. Wally follows easily, tethered by the reluctant cage of your embrace.

“Do you remember the night we met?”

The query is felt more than heard, his gentle monotone muffled by the downy fabric of your garb. You huff softly to yourself, rustling a few gel-slick strands atop his pompadour.

“How could I forget?”

The day the infamous Mr. Darling appeared in your club, his two largest henchmen in tow, is burned into your brain like a regrettable tattoo; Gene was off, so you were covering entertainment for the night while the sisters managed the bar and floor. As you were singing the very song playing now, you detected a curious hush that had overtaken the throng of guests, and strained to cut through the stage glare and cigarette fog to locate the cause. Tracking the audience, who were all regarding the bar with varying amounts of subtlety, you nearly dropped the microphone when you saw the broad blue back of Barnaby B. Beagle, someone you’d only heard of in gossip. He gesticulated as he spoke boisterously to poor Mottie, who was as white as a sheet behind the counter. Situated a slight ways away was Howdy Pillar, who stood as motionless as a statue with both sets of forelimbs fastened behind him.

And then you noticed him. A puppet no more than 4 feet tall, but whose oppressive presence commanded full attention. He paid no mind to the (one-sided) conversation between his colleague and your friend– no, he was staring right at you. Boring into you so acutely that you felt pinned, compelled somehow to continue singing until the final note trickled away.

As if a spell had been broken, you leapt from the platform and scurried to Mottie, who stayed petrified even when you tried to covertly nudge her to the side. How avidly you wished a fissure would open beneath their shoes and swallow them whole; but, armed with years of appeasing difficult and sordid customers, you spoke.

“Evening, fellas. I hope you enjoyed the show.”

Barnaby, who had stopped talking when you rounded the bar, bellowed a laugh.

“Fellas?! Is that any way to greet the boss and I?"

He tilted forward with menacing glee, propped up by furry elbows as his claws scraped the laminate countertop. Each of his fangs were as big as your nose.

"Dontcha know who we are, toots? Or do ya just need a refresher on respect?"

The acrid smoke from his cigar blew directly into your face, making spikes of anger bubble in your belly as you choked back a cough. Just when you felt composed enough to reply, a surprisingly mellow voice chimed in.

"It's alright, Barnaby."

The shock slacking his jaw mirrored yours, although you hid it under a mask of cool indifference. You dared a glance at Mr. Darling, but the pressure of his peer chased your gaze back to Barnaby, who grumbled as he straightened back up. It was difficult to stay trained on his good eye, but you soldiered on. Fear was not something you could afford to show, and you knew you'd crumble if you peeked at the fabled gaping socket that he stapled open himself.

"I don't suppose you're Gene Clifton, aged 54, father of two, owner of this joint?" He joked, recovered from the flub.

"No, sir, but my banker would sure be happy if I was. Can I take down a message?"

"A message! I love this bird!" Snickering cruelly, he waved a flippant paw. "Y'should try that material on stage sometime, might bring ya more customers than the singing bit."

You sucked a sharp inhale up your nose. Serenity now.

"See, here's the problem. This is family territory, and in return for our protection, we charge a teensy fee. Now, we ain't unreasonable– we've sent ole Gene a few letters. And what’s our thanks for such humble hospitality? Zilch."

Oh dear. Gene doesn't bother investigating any mail the lounge receives before tossing it because it’s typically adverts. He definitely would've noted The Neighborhood's seal if he did. Regardless, the frank abuse of power only fanned your annoyance, obscuring your better judgment.

"What protection? I don't recall seeing any of your members patrolling outside. Besides, we didn’t ask for protection."

Mottie snapped towards you, looking as though she might faint. The corner of Barnaby's mouth twitched skyward, like he was hoping you'd argue, but his boss beat him to the punch.

"We can reach an agreement, I’m sure. I'd hate to see a family establishment go under, especially when they have such lovely entertainment."

Apparently Wally was so smitten that he'd accept your company in lieu of money, and so the agreement (if you can even call it that, since you were coerced) was this– whenever a rose was delivered to you, you'd attend a rendezvous with him. When you returned to your dressing room later that evening, you discovered the first gift of several: your vase.

“I knew because of your eyes.”

The floral wallpaper in front of you shifts back into focus, Wally’s voice shaking you from your recollection.

“Pardon?”

“That night, you drew me in; I couldn’t concentrate on anything else, least of all a petty protection tax. And I knew I had to have you when I met your eyes.” He sounds dreamy, reminiscing as you were before, though his framing of events is worlds apart from your own; he recalls a destined encounter with his future partner, whereas you mark it the day your wings were clipped for good.

“They shone like stars, even through the smog.”

It’s only after he’s finished that you realize you’ve stopped moving, wrapped in an intimate hug like true lovers. A strange mix of pride and disgust floods you at the compliment, stomach flip-flopping rapidly.

He untangles from you, receding so that only your hands remain connected. The newfound distance eases some of your tension, but to your horror, you find yourself mourning the loss of the husky scent of his cologne. Loath as you are to admit it, the bastard smells amazing: a dark, leathery swirl of apples and saffron that you’d buy out if someone turned it into a candle.

“Let’s not delay any longer. You must be starving.”

True to his gentlemanly veneer, he seats you at the table before settling himself. You don’t see him call, but a server emerges immediately from the doors through which Howdy left with a tray of appetizers.

There are two graces you award Wally Darling: his excellent taste in cologne, and his staff’s Michelen-quality fare. Though they adopt the four courses typical of fine dining, the dishes are more grounded, toeing the border between grandma and Gordon Ramsay perfectly. Truthfully, you’re not even sure what to categorize it as; virtually everything is transfigured into a jello, pie, or salad, harkening back to the post-war cookbooks you used to gawk at as a child in your late mother’s library. The yellowed pictures in those books appeared extremely unappetizing, but somehow The Neighborhood makes it work.

It could be because of an illusive member named Poppy, one of the 7 who make up Wally’s illustrious inner circle. She’s scarcely seen due to her fretful and skittish nature, but Wally lauds her cooking and baking skills, regaling you in the past with plenty of kitchen mishaps that occurred when she tried to decompress by experimenting with recipes and was interrupted by their more excitable comrades. If you remember correctly, he once told you that most of the menus in rotation were created by her.

The nature of these duress-dates is wholly dependent on Wally’s mood– if he’s happy, then he’ll gladly chat your ear off about frivolous happenings in his and his friends’ private lives, though he takes care to be shrewd with any details that dive too deep into the murky underbelly lying just below. If he’s unhappy, then they can be utterly unbearable; his mere existence puts you on edge, so it’s exponentially worse when he’s out of sorts, tone curt and glare fierce.

Thankfully, he’s amiable tonight. The first 3 courses march on without incident, and painless conversation flows between the two of you, even if he does most of the talking– you’re not exactly eager to share more than you have to. It’s when the server presents dessert that things go awry.

“Say, how are those triplets you work with doing?” Wally says, spooning at the Bananas Foster. “I haven’t had the pleasure of catching a performance since our mishap a while back. So much paperwork, so little time, you know how it is.”

The mention of both your friends and the aforementioned Dorelaine incident have you bristling reflexively, but you do your best to tamp it down.

“They’re well, overall. Sometimes it’s difficult for them– their manager’s a real piece of work, and we get all types at the lounge.”

“I see…”

He lets out a long “hmmmm”, like he’s reflecting on this information.

“My family has also come upon hard times. It can be… trying, sometimes, to guide my children. Especially now, when we are under unjust attack.” He confesses, wistfully resting his chin on a thread-scarred palm. “Every family requires a head, but what is a head without a neck?”

Unjust my ass. Still, the weird metaphor confuses you.

“A neck?”

At that, his catlike grin only grows. What is he talking about?

“Yes, a neck; that is, someone who supports the head. I care for my family, so it’s only right I am cared for in return, wouldn’t you say?”

Though the phrasing is puzzling, you’re fairly confident you can infer what he’s purposefully dangling in front of you, and oh, it makes your stomach plummet. Sweat breaks out underneath your suddenly-sweltering outfit; it's as if you've been tied to a railroad and have managed to divert the train through pure will for a year, but now it's steamrolling square for you. The anxiety of impending doom renders you mute, unable to piece together a coherent thought.

Taking your silence in stride, Wally leans forward, intense as he grasps your hand in both of his own. The yellow fuzz does nothing to help how clammy you feel.

“What I mean to say is, I think that it’s time to settle down."

No.

“Wh– what? Settle down how?”

“To get married, silly.”

You’re unable to help the gasp that escapes you. No, no, no!

“Get married? You mean– to me?!”

“Of course. I’ve been courting you all this time, haven’t I?”

You sputter, and he rubs your hand as if to soothe you. His many gold rings gleam under the chandelier, teasing a glimpse of your fate.

“I know in the beginning you weren’t receptive to the idea of this life, but I've shown you that I can provide for you better than anyone else.”

Your expression must betray your surprise, because he chuckles– a slow, stilted sound that sends gooseflesh blooming across your skin.

“You thought I didn’t know? Howdy may not have reported it– which I’ll rectify in due time– but I have eyes everywhere, dear. You’re quite the talented actor, though.”

That trademark simper melts into something beguiling; he cradles you as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held.

“I love you, and I will take care of you, as I ask you to do for me. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

An inviting facade of genuine affection, so ardent that you almost want to believe it. Wouldn’t that be the easiest path to take? To surrender to the hand that feeds, because where it strangles others, it caresses you sweetly? It’s more tempting than you’d ever divulge, because underneath the armor of aplomb you've so carefully forged, you're exhausted. This burden has been yours alone to bear– and what a bear it is, because if you mess up, the people you love could be injured, or worse. So much worse.

Perhaps sensing an opening, Wally continues.

“Be reasonable. The family welcomes you with open arms! Haven’t you missed having a family?"

The words stab you right through the heart, and your waning resolve springs back tenfold by the fury that ruddies your vision. When you rip your hand away, he makes no move to stop you.

"My friends are my family. I don’t want anyone else, especially not murderers!” You snarl. “You kill people– and torture and maim them! How can you expect me to accept this?!"

"All in a day's work when cleaning up the city, unfortunately," Wally hums. "I wish we didn't have to resort to such things, but you must understand. As it is, puppets are treated as less than, and hardship runs rampant for both humans and puppets alike. You’ve experienced these firsthand.” With the elegance of a master conman, he touches his chest in mock respire. “All we wish to do is provide a safe haven for those in need– somewhere to rest your bones, enjoy a hot meal, and where everyone accepts you as their own. A home.”

You abruptly stand up, feeling like you’re wound so taut that you could erupt at any moment. The mahogany chair behind you tips over from the force, striking the floor with a leaden thud, though the sound is deafened by the blood rushing in your ears.

“Bullshit! You don’t have to start a gang to combat discrimination or help suffering people! Maybe that spiel works on the poor saps you trick into doing your dirty work, but it won’t work on me. The answer is no.”

All is still for a moment as you struggle to calm your heaving breaths, trembling and locked in a quiet stalemate with Wally, who’s as relaxed as ever. Your attention flits from his right eye to where the left would be, if not for the lesion carved from a notch above his eyelid to an inch below, giving the illusion that what lies beneath is impaled.

Oh shit.

The magnitude of what just transpired comes crashing down as your adrenaline flushes out. After playing it safe for months– stomaching unwanted exorbitant gifts, being tailed by his employees, and rousted to innumerous “dates”– you just rejected Wally Darling in the most aggressive way possible. So you do the only thing that might garner you a chance to make it out of this alive: run.

You’re halfway across the room when 4 thick arms suddenly wrangle and force you to halt, a scream ripping itself from your throat out of fear. Can this motherfucker teleport now?! How the hell did he get here so fast?? Thrashing, you throw your head back to search Howdy’s face, desperate for an ounce of the sympathy he’d offered in the elevator, but it is in vain; his stony visage is impenetrable, as though it had never wavered.

“How about you sleep on it, hm? Think about all of your options. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to those little lambs when their adorable shepherd isn’t around to protect them.”

Delicate fingers cup your jaw, making you freeze as Wally stretches up to plant a faux-kiss on your cheek, complete with a small “mwah!”. You scowl daggers at him as he collects your hat from where it flew to the floor, dusts it off, and lovingly places it back on your head before giving you a few pats.

“Aw, don’t be that way, darling. I truly meant what I said; you have beautiful eyes. I can hardly wait to try one on.”

With a snap, you’re hauled over Howdy’s back and spirited out of the room, presumably to be transported to wherever you’ll be staying. Hopefully not Wally’s quarters.

It’s all too much; you feel like you’re trapped in a nightmare. How else did you expect this to end? You’re not sure. With all of the awful things he’s done, forcing you into marriage is not beyond him. You just thought you’d have more time: to plan, to save up enough money to take the girls and race to the hills.

Tears gather on your waterlines, and the minute your mouth wobbles, they spill ceaselessly. Full-bodied sobs wrack you, the pain of Howdy’s shoulder jutting into your midsection compounding the profound ache of sorrow. All this time, you’ve been trying to fight, but there was no fight to be had; it ended the moment his eyes found yours across the lounge that day.

#🐇 penned #🌈🖼️ wh #feat. some random ocs i made up for the sake of the fic #welcome home #welcome home x reader #wally darling x reader #x reader #reader-insert #yandere x reader #i love randomly throwing in ronald dorelaine #cause we have no idea who he is or what he's like #so he can be whatever i need him to be #yandere wally darling #yandere wally darling x reader #welcome home mob au #clownsuu

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takami-takami · 6 months

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Hawksies drawing before I sleep

#sorry I had to draw him in a wifebeater. i just had to.#i drw on paper today bc i do not have tablet pen #🐇 rambles

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cl0ckw0rkz · 4 months

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Drew Mr. Davis' headspace design using only a pen at our grandparents' house,, I kinda like how it turned out-

#Body coulda turned our a bit better but ! since it is . a pen drawing . i'll give it a pass #- Mark 🐇#silly posts #blood stained artwork #Mark Drew This!#thatcher davis #mandela catalogue thatcher #the mandela catalogue

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panb1mbo · 7 months

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uhhhhh i've been thinking too long my brain might melt

#week two of school n i am already down one pen like i used all the ink but it lasted longer than i thought it would ngl #ppl think i'm joking when i say i go through a pen a week while in school or like i lose one a week #truthfully i'm just a nerd i be writing a lot #so much so that i made myself a lil nauseous i think i've been staring at a screen + my own handwriting for too long today #will i stop? no i'm busy i have like three more things to finish #bless my dom i've been making it to bed by 12 ok i've been good about that #but i also have not been good about not passing out with my laptop n notes n books in bed n he clears them for me n is very nice abt it #dumb ass shit ☾☁️ ࣪ ִִִִִִִִֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶָָָָָָָ⭒𓂃🐇

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zeldacw · 29 days

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JINSHI. Apothecary Diaries

Ink drawing using brass dip pen. (Gift from Matchapokki. Thank you 💖🐇)

#the apothecary diaries #jinshi #ink drawing #fan art #doodle

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hunn1e-bunn1e · 7 months

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Gojo Satoru - "Harajuku Street Food"

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

In which a certain special-grade jujutsu sorcerer stops at a street vendor's stall that catches his attention with its heavenly scent and leaves with more than just a few purchased snacks. Or; In which when buying some snacks before meeting his three first-year students, Gojo Satoru successfully acquires the number of the cute vendor that runs the stall.

🍡•♡•🍢•♡•🍡•♡•🍢•♡•🍡•♡•🍢•♡•🍡•♡•🍢

"Hey there!"

A smooth but playful voice called, drawing your attention from the portable skillet in front of you.

Looking up, you're met with a very tall man with white hair, a customer surely. However, your attention is drawn to his face, or rather, to the black blindfold that covered his eyes and forehead. Even if you couldn't see half of his face, you could still tell that he was quite handsome.

Suddenly though, a hand appears in front of your eyes and snaps a few times, breaking you from your observation. The man had leaned forward while you were distracted, his face only inches away from your own now, his nose nearly touching your own.

"Ah! S‐sorry sir! Um, what would you like? There's a wide selection of goods to choose from."

You flinch backward, quickly trying to correct your unprofessional behavior by offering the man the usual customer greeting.

The blindfolded man lets out an attractive chuckle as he places a hand on his hip; you swear you could hear him mutter a quiet 'cute'. He then turns his attention to the medium-sized menu card that you had sat to the side; perusing his options. Though it seems like he didn't need to look long as he quickly turned his attention back to you.

"Right, I'll take everything."

He spoke with a curt nod, his voice still playful but with an underlying seriousness.

You stare at him for a while; unable to process quite what he meant. What did he mean by everything? One of everything or literally everything?

"Uh... One of everything?"

You asked him cautiously, becoming nervous at the thought of having your stall picked clean so early on in the day.

The man tilts his head at you, his smile shrinking a bit, and you can only assume that he must think that you're a bit slow on the uptake. But just as quickly as it shrunk, his smile grew wide again and his chipper attitude presented itself even more prominently.

"Nope! Everything you've got! Oh, I'll take your number too while I'm at it!"

He chirped, loosely crossing his arms across his chest as he leaned forward slightly, towering over you.

You feel your face heat up at his words; you've never met someone so bold before. Quickly, you turn around and bag up all of the inventory you have so far today. Ending up with six bags, you pull out a pen and turn back to him, seeing him leaning on the stall counter.

"Here you are sir; your total is ¥59,610.80. Both cash and card are acceptable."

You told him as you handed him his bags; gently grabbing one of his wrists.

The man tilts his head again, seemingly forgetting his earlier flirt, but you only lift the pen that you had grabbed. Pulling his wrist toward you, you write your number down on the heel of his palm; face warming even further at the fact that you're committing to it.

"M‐my number, you asked for it earlier so..."

You stuttered, looking away from him in embarrassment.

He chuckles, standing up to his full height and putting his free hand in his pocket. An attractive smirk spreads across his face as he turns to leave.

"I'll definitely call you some time, you're too cute~"

🍢•♡•🍡•♡•🍢•♡•🍡•♡•🍢•♡•🍡•♡•🍢•♡•🍡

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

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leanteam43 · 2 months

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I have a criminal minds request! Spencer x Female Reader, where she has a very big crush on him but they coworkers and everyone else knows it but him. She is so scared to admit to him because they are friends and coworkers. But she tries to drop hints and be flirty, but he is too oblivious to know she like him And one day she is just like "I love you, you smart idiot!"

Hot Fudge Pop-Tarts and a Box of Runts

(Spencer Reid One-Shot)

summary : head-over-heels!reader x oblivious!spencer

pronouns : she/her | female!reader

warnings : SLOW BURN LIKE DANG GIRL SPEED IT UPPPP, crappy vending machine facts i googled, mild swearing, reader technically not getting proper nutrients but nothing serious at all, also not proof-read so cope </3

a/n's : i girlbossed gutair is making me a crochet derek morggan - 🌿 | HAPPY VALENTINES DAY (pretend this came out for valentines day - 🌿) - 🎸 | mowmowmowmowmow - 🐇

It was no secret, like...seriously. No secret.

It was bad enough the whole team knew, but once the entire office started catching on...(Y/N) could barely enter the same room as Reid before someone made a teasing comment.

Yet somehow, someway, Spencer Reid still had zero clue that (Y/N) (Y/L/N) had the biggest crush on him.

It really did start out as just an innocent crush. The way Spencer constantly seemed to gravitate towards (Y/N)'s cubicle, the way he always seemed to agree with (Y/N)'s profiles or the way Hotch constantly paired the two up when working a case.

So if you really thought about it, it was technically all Hotch's fault.

He had to have known that (Y/N)'s already budding affection for the Spencer would turn into something other than platonic.

It wasn't unjustified of (Y/N) to have a crush, I mean how could someone not have a crush on the infamous Dr. Spencer Reid?

From his charming smile, to that stupidly adorable satchel he carried around...(Y/N) honestly should've quit the first day she saw him if she wanted any chance of making it out alive.

And yet, no matter how many times he walked up to her desk to ask her opinion on a case. The crush only grew stronger.

The team certainly didn't help either.

"He never asks for my opinion on cases." Derek teased, leaning over (Y/N)'s cubicle wall. A cup of joe grasped tightly in his hand.

Before (Y/N) could answer, Emily chimed in. "Me neither!"

Both Derek and Emily looked towards Garcia who was on her way back to her 'BatCave' after dropping some files off on Hotch's desk.

"Nope!" She replied, already knowing the question that was soon to be flung at her.

Well that certainly had to mean something. (Y/N) couldn't help but feel heat rise to her cheeks as she realized just how often Spencer came clambering over to her desk asking about cases and reports.

Derek laughed, patting (Y/N) on the shoulder before returning to the report he'd been dragging his feet on all day.

----

Later that day, as (Y/N)'s workload was down to a few pieces of paperwork and a handful of emails. She found herself waltzing over to Spencer's desk, leaning against the cubicle in an attempt to seem relaxed.

It took a few moments for Reid to realize she was there, but when he did his big brown eyes trailed upwards like a puppy looking to it's owner.

He smiled, opening his mouth to talk but she cut him off beforehand. "Have you had lunch?" She asked boldly, mentally she was screaming at herself because of course Spencer had lunch. The man ran on a schedule.

A schedule she knew like the back of her hand.

"Oh! Yeah! I had leftover pad-thai." He smiles, his pen tapping against the desk rhythmically. (Y/N) let out a small "ohh..", trailing off into thought.

Spencer smiled at her, "...Did you need help on a case?" He asked, "No!" She shouted, before clearing her throat.

"No. I um- I wanted to see...if..." (Y/N) took a deep breath before biting the bullet. She was going to do this because she wanted too, because she wanted to spend time with Spencer. Alone.

"I wanted to see if you would be interested in accompanying me to the vending machine." She said, immediately regretting it when Spencer's brows furrowed and his head tilted.

"It's just down the hall?" He questioned, giving (Y/N) a puzzled look. "I don't like the snacks in that one." (Y/N) lied, she actually only liked the snacks in that one.

That totally wasn't the reason she originally wanted to be in the BAU though.

Spencer thought for a moment before he stood up, grabbing his water bottle on the way before waiting for (Y/N) to lead the way.

----

"Y'know, Derek's jealous." (Y/N) joked as they waited for the elevator to meet the bottom floor. "Jealous? Jealous of who?" He asked, his voice hitching like it always did when he asked a question.

"Of me" (Y/N) mumbled, trying to hide her smirk. "...because you don't ask him for help with cases...only me." (Y/N) added, the context causing Reid to laugh softly.

"Seriously? I thought Derek had a much stronger ego than that." He joked, (Y/N) wrinkled their nose up in laughter as the duo stepped out into the lobby of the building. Now in pursuit of the vending machines.

"I like how you format your reports." Reid commented as they turned a corner, in all honesty (Y/N) had zero clue where she was headed but as long as she pretended to be know where she was going, which she was scarily good at, Spencer would follow along.

"Really? Hotch said Strauss complained about them the first few times." (Y/N) remarked, a sense of pride spreading over her chest. Spencer liked the way she wrote her reports.

"It's easy to follow, but still detailed." He complimented, (Y/N) felt their ears turning a light shade of red.

----

After a lot of dead ends ( (Y/N) had words for the person who designed this building.), the duo had finally found the Lobby-Level vending machine.

"Y'know Florida holds the record for the most vending machines." Spencer noted as (Y/N) searched for what she wanted.

"Really?" She entertained. Unlike most of the team, (Y/N) never actually got tired of hearing Spencer's facts and statistics. In fact, she quite enjoyed them.

"Yeah! Texas and California being close runner-ups." He smiled, excited she'd taken interest in the fact he had spewed. "Don't mess with Texas." (Y/N) joked as she dialed in the correct numbers for the treats she wanted.

"That's all your eating for lunch?" Spencer asked, eyebrow raised. "It's not like we're traveling today, I don't need lots." (Y/N) shrugged. "But that's it? Just hot fudge Pop-Tarts and a box of Runts??" Spencer questioned.

"I'll be fine, you worry too much." (Y/N) laughed, picking up their treats and tucking them into her purse. Spencer rolled his eyes as he moved his hair away from his face.

As the two made their way back upstairs, (Y/N) couldn't help but stand a bit closer to Spencer. Even if there was nobody else there.

"Y'know Reid, your the only one I consult on cases too." (Y/N) shared, nervously biting the inside of her cheek as Spencer took a moment to reply.

"I know." Spencer replied, a smile evident in his tone. "Of course you know." (Y/N) teased, stepping out of the elevator.

Spencer laughed, beginning to make his way back over to his desk.

----

A few weeks had passed and Spencer hadn't missed a single trip down to the lobby vending machine.

"Y'know, you don't have to come with me." (Y/N) said, feeling bad she'd dragged Spencer away from his paperwork at least once a day.

"I know, but what if the vending machine like...falls on you?" Spencer joked, though the worry had popped up a few times in his mind. "In what world would that ever happen??" (Y/N) asked as she waited for her box of Runts to fall from the spiral.

"37 deaths happened just in the years 1978-1995." Spencer spewed, causing (Y/N) to roll her eyes. "Well, if that happens to me I promise you can sue to FBI and keep the money." She joked, picking up the boxed candy.

Spencer wrinkled his nose, "I don't want money, I want my coworker." He said. (Y/N) felt their heart beat faster. "Really? You'd take me over winning a lawsuit and getting rich?" She asked, eyes meeting his as he leaned against the wall.

"(Y/N), if I wanted to be rich I'd play more poker." He joked, causing (Y/N) to stifle a laugh. "It's still sweet." She mumbled, causing a light pink blush to spread across Spencer's face.

Holy Shit. She'd done it.

After working for him for over three years, after tirelessly trying to flirt with the man. She'd gotten Dr. Spencer Reid to blush.

Spencer blinked a few times before taking a deep breath, "Uh- are you going to Rossi's after work?" He asked, obviously trying to switch the subject.

(Y/N) didn't answer. Still flabbergasted over the fact Spencer Reid blushed because of her.

Spencer waited a reply, switching between glancing over at her and up to check the how many floors until they reached theirs.

"...(Y/N)?" He asked, his tone turning to one of concern.

Maybe it was the fact that (Y/N) had been surviving off of vending machine food for lunch everyday just to spend time with Spencer.

Or maybe it was the fact she'd waited 3+ years to get a blush out of Spencer.

Either way it didn't matter, because (Y/N)'s mouth started speaking before she could determine if what she was saying was a good idea.

"I like you." She said, there was no taking it back now. Not even the butterflies that instantly appeared in her stomach could take away what she'd just said.

Spencer's brow furrowed.

"Three. Years." She breathed. "I have liked you for over three years, Spencer." She said, her voice more confident now.

"(Y/N)-" Spencer's eyes glanced at the electronical sign that told him what floor they were on just for a moment before snapping back to her eyes.

"Over three years, I have...flirted with you, bought you gifts, I learned how to play chess." (Y/N) listed off on her fingers, the butterflies in her stomach turning to wasps.

"You love chess?" He said, tilting his head in confusion.

"THAT'S WHAT YOU CARE ABOUT?" (Y/N) yelled, "I hate chess. It's the most boring board game there is. My favorite board game is CANDYLAND." (Y/N) continued.

"I have put my love life on pause for over three years." (Y/N)'s voiced filled the elevator.

"For, you." She continued.

Her voice was so powerful, so full of frustration and desire that neither of the Agents heard the elevator 'Ding!' nor the door open.

"Spencer Reid you are the smartest idiot I have ever met." She finished, taking a deep breath.

The silence that followed was so thick, it couldn't have been cut with a butter knife.

"...I like you too, (Y/N)." Spencer muttered out, a deep shade of red overtaking his face.

Cheers.

Spencer and (Y/N) whipped their head towards the elevator doors, finally realizing that they'd opened.

There Derek and Garcia stood, cheering. Derek's arm in the way of the doors closing as Garcia excitedly bounced up in down spewing out excited nonsense. "Finally! Finally!" She cheered, her hair bouncing excitedly.

(Y/N)'s face turned hot with embarrassment as she looked between all three of her colleagues. Spencer's face was still red, but it was unclear for what reason.

(Y/N) pushed past both Garcia and Derek. Making a beeline for her desk, grabbing her car keys and rushing to the stairwell because the elevators were still too crowded.

"(Y/N)! Wait!" Spencer called after her, his lanky legs struggling to keep up. Reid didn't think he'd ever seen her run this fast in the field.

(Y/N), of course did not wait.

----

After both Garcia and Emily confirmed that (Y/N) hadn't quit her job out of pure embarrassment, all that was left to do is wait.

Hotch informed Spencer that (Y/N) would be coming back to work after a week, she'd used a whole sick week just to avoid the embarrassment.

Well, a week was up and Spencer was pacing by his desk looking at both the clock on the wall and his watch as if that would make time go by any faster.

Thankfully, the bundle of flowers he picked up from the supermarket yesterday hadn't begun to wilt. The hot fudge Pop-Tarts and box of runts were waiting patiently for (Y/N) to walk out of the elevator any second.

Spencer, however, was not waiting as patiently. "Kid, if you walk in one more circle your gonna tear the carpet." Derek mumbled, not taking his eyes away from the paperwork.

"What if she took another week off? What if she really did quit-"

DING!

Spencer's eyes immediately met yours as soon as you stepped into the bullpen. Then, he watched as your eyes trailed down to the flowers and treats he'd displayed on your desk.

A sweet smile was shared between the two of you. Spencer took initiation (it was only fair, you'd only been leading the way for over three years) and walked over to you, ignoring Derek's whispered encouragement.

"Spence, this is so sweet but...I think if I eat one more Pop-Tart I'm gonna actually need a sick week." (Y/N) said, laughing quietly.

"I KNEW IT!" Spencer yelled, causing her laughs to grow louder.

"You really are the smartest idiot I know." She joked, causing Spencer to roll his eyes.

Spencer smiled, "I uh...there's this place I like to go for lunch if-"

"Oh my god, yes." (Y/N) breathed, excitedly holding onto Spencer's arm. Spencer laughed, nodding.

"It's a date."

#criminal minds fluff #criminal minds preferences #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #derek morgan #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds headcannons #criminal minds drabbles #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid headcannons #dr spencer reid

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deedee-sims · 2 years

Photo

Rabbit pen - a default replacement (yet another collab with @episims ❤)

Put your hand up if you ever used this toy dog pen! 🙋‍♀️ No one? Yeah, thought so XD

Originally I wanted to make this a custom pen, but then we decided that the toy dog pen wouldn’t be missed, so we made a default! And also, because the animations needed to be edited, and it was easier this way! (we’re not going to create a custom verison)

The bunny comes from sims 4 (many thanks to @tvickiesims for extracting it!), but it got adjusted to the pen. It has all the original 8 color variations (4 as defaults, and 4 recolors)! The animations are not accurate (that’s not how bunnies move!), and there’s also some clipping as well, but that was the best we could do. The weirdest animations got removed though, so the bunnies don’t bark at least. The sounds also got removed, bunbun is a silent creature!

The bunny has its own pet treat, and its own food box texture. The pen also got a little facelift, featuring some hay, a chewing stick, and a wooden bunny house! (that they never use, but whatever, it’s part of the ~aesthetic~) Despite this, all the existing recolors should work fine with this default!

The toy dog-related wants (and fears) also got adjusted, so now sims roll wants and fears about the bunnies instead of the dogs! Important! The Wants file in the download shouldn’t be renamed, because it’ll stop working!

The description and interaction texts were changed and got translated to Finnish and Hungarian as well. If you wish to provide a translation to other languages, please contact Epi!

Update 08/12/22: Polish translation by @jellymeduza added!

Update 08/17/22: More translations added! Russian by @summer-choi-simblr, French by @tvickiesims, and Brazilian Portuguese by @itsyuna! Thank you all!

Update 08/18/22: Even more translations added, woo! Spanish by @nevernerdenough, and Swedish by @namelessperson98! Thank you so much!

Update 11/11/22 (cool date lol): Text got replaced in the buy a toy dog want (only the Wants file changed). Please tell us if it doesn’t work, we couldn’t test it properly!

Update 12/14/23: Portuguese translation by @logansimmingwolverine added! Thank you so much!

Mesh, texture, and font credits go to Eaxis, Freepik, Julsfels, Veranka, Eddysims, Franzillasims

Oh and it’s advisable to delete your thumbnails to see the changes in the pet selection window!

Have fun, and tell us if you find any problems! 🐇

Download - Alternate

#ts2 #sims 2 #sims 2 download #dl recolors

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strangegirlyuri · 2 months

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got a new fountain pen recently and its so fun to use love fountain pens yaaaaaay🎉🌈🐌🍃🌾🐬🪱💖🌿🪴🐋🍀🌻🌺🦭🐇🍊🦋🌱🌳🦈💙

#drawing #my art #fanart #guilty gear #elphelt valentine #elphelt guilty gear

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takami-takami · 3 months

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Lost my tablet pen. God wants me dead.

#🐇 rambles #/not srs #i mean i did lose my tablet pen but this is lighthearted

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pforestsims · 2 years

Photo

A few days ago Epi asked me if I’d like to make recolours for “Modern Arf” Dog Pen that they’ve turned into Rabbit Pen. I gave it a go and realised that original pen mesh had no potential whatsoever.. Bunny is just too damn cute to sit behind that thing!

Here’s my edit of the default replacement created by @deedee-sims and @episims . Invisible recolours are included as well - please note these only work with my edited pen! It comes with two bonus decor items: hay clumps (rug), and rabbit kennel.

Rabbit Pen - rustic Mesh Edit & recolours

also included: Rabbit House & Hay Clump Rug

✦ Download (SFS)

🐇 ⚠️ NOTE: This is NOT A COMPLETE pen DEFAULT! You’ll need to get ‘Wants’ file (and rabbit recolours) from first default version shared HERE (SFS) or HERE (Mega) !

New polycount: ~3841 (was: above 11000)

Language versions: ENG, PL, HUN, FIN, ESP, FRA, RUS, POR & Brazilian-Portuguese. Remember to properly update the language you also need updated Wants file.

22.VIII. 23.VIII. Removed outdoor shadow for the Hay rug (another update, ‘cuz I’ve shared the old file..😅)

* Bed & bowl texture default and recolours will work for original Toy dog pen.

* Please note if you let your rabbit starve, you might get a glitch where a notification doesn’t go away after you fill the bowl. Try to feed the rabbit again if that happens. This bug also occurs in unmodded game and is not related to default replacement.

* This is for The Sims 2

Recolour swatches below the cut!

If you use invisible recolours indoors, a ground shadow will still be visible (if you have those enabled ofc). It can be covered up using a rug. Pen will not cast outdoor shadow because I’ve disabled it.

#sims 2 #the sims 2 #ts2 defaults #ts2 cc

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wwhatevenisthis · 5 months

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# # TRIGGER WARNING, PET DEATH

TLDR: My house rabbit Sam passed away today (7th Dec 2023). I am utterly heartbroken, and on top of it all I still have to pay for his £1500 vet bills and his cremation.

I have an important announcement to make. My 9 year old house rabbit, Sam, crossed the rainbow bridge today. He passed away at home, comfortably in his blankets.

I went to feed him his food and medication at 12pm today, and I noticed he was breathing fast. I tried to give him some of his syringe food and water, but it was running out of his mouth. I stopped giving it him and noticed he was trying to breathe through his mouth and he was struggling. I was home alone, but I rang the vets anyway even though I knew I had no lift to get there. They said that I could send them a video of what his breathing was like to see if I needed to bring him in. I sent them some videos, and then held him close and gave him many cuddles and kisses, holding him close and telling him how much of a good boy he was. An hour passed, and I couldn't stand waiting any longer. I rang the vets back and said I wanted to bring him in, and I would ring my mum so I could take him in as soon as possible. I placed him back in his pen, gave him some head pats, and he started trying to move his head and his front end to get comfy. I left the room at 1:48pm to get all my things ready for the vets. I came back at 1:52pm, and Sam had passed away, wrapped in his blankets, in his comfy pen. He had waited for me to leave the room before he crossed the rainbow bridge. I tried to see if I could save him; I even tried bunny CPR on him. But he was gone. I held him close and cried, telling him how brave he was and how much I loved him.

Almost everyone in our family said goodbye. My mum came home shortly after with the dog, and she and I cried together. My brother told Sam to go play with Monty (my previous house rabbit who passed in October 2022) over the rainbow bridge. We even let Elsa (my other house rabbit and Sam's companion) see Sam one last time; she sniffed him and nudged him, but then started to freak out and got really stressed, so we had to put her back in her own pen. (She is doing better now, but I think she knows what has happened and is just as upset).

We eventually took Sam to the vets around 3pm, so we could get them to cremate him. All the vets there were really kind and sympathetic, and chalked it up to that the little guy just couldn't keep fighting any longer, even though he had been so strong before. They all told me how much of a good job I did trying to help Sam, with me getting up every 2 hours for the last 2 and a half weeks to feed him and make sure he was okay. They gave me some of his fur, let me give him some final head scritches and kisses, and I said one last goodbye to my little trooper.

My heart is in pieces tonight. He brought so much joy into mine and my family's life, and everyone who had met him utterly adored him. I adopted him in January 2023, and even though I knew him for just under a year, he has helped me stay positive and given me so much happiness and many fond memories. He has left pawprints on my heart, and I will never forget him. I am currently with Elsa, giving her all my love as I know she will need it after losing her best friend.

I am still having to pay for Sam's £1500 vet bills even after his passing as well as his cremation, and I have very little savings left.

I have been selling my things on E🅱️ay here

https://www.ebay.co.uk/usr/whatevenisthis

to help cover the cost, and I have set up a G0FundMe here

https://gofund.me/f3133dda

for people who would like to donate to help me out. Any and all help would be vastly appreciated, no matter how small. If you don't want to use the G0FundMe link, please I am also taking donations through PaypaI here

https://www.paypal.me/SBettney

Thank you all, and please give your pets some cuddles tonight, for me and for Sam. 🐇💜

#bunnies #rabbits #bunny #animals #rabbit #pets #house rabbit #bnuuy #my pets #pet death #passed away #emergency vet #emergency #fundraising #vet bills #vets #rainbow bridge #boost #please share

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mattodore · 5 months

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tagged by @agena87 <3

OCS as OBSCURE ASSOCIATIONS with Theo

ANIMAL: rabbits / deer / field mice

COLORS: burnt orange / red

MONTH: september… it’s his birth month

SONGS: he has a playlist, but some personal favorites for him are kaleidoscope by flower face, violence by andy stott, and numb by meg myers

NUMBER: 6

PLANTS: love-lies-bleeding / dwarf sunflowers

SMELLS: soap / powder / citrus

GEMSTONE: carnelian / jasper

TIME OF DAY: 3 am

SEASON: summer

WEATHER: a sunshower that leaves your shoulders damp but your skin warm in the balmy air

SKY: dusk

PLACES: curled up in the center of his bed nestled by blankets and pillows / shivering in an empty dormitory with exposed brick and drafty windows

FOOD: bruised plum

DRINKS: lemon water

SEASONINGS: ginger

ELEMENT: fire

ASTROLOGICAL SIGNS: libra

MAGICAL POWER: clairvoyance / invisibility

WEAPONS: teeth / nails

SOCIAL MEDIA: …neocities? idk he doesn’t use social media so i can’t even think of anything. he’d be a hit on instagram tho. he’d never write captions and his bio would be empty but he’d have a little following. his pictures would get reposted on pinterest all the time.

MAKEUP PRODUCT: eyeshadow smeared by fingers and tears

CANDY: warheads

METHOD OF LONG DISTANCE TRAVEL: falling asleep in the back of a bus and startling awake an hour later with no clue where he is

ART STYLE: watercolors / graphite on thick sketching paper

FEAR: doors / windows / mirrors

MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE: phoenix

PIECE OF STATIONERY: a black fountain pen that keeps leaving blots of ink all over the page and smears like blood on your hand

THREE EMOJIS: 🐇🎒🩹🧼💉🧯📖

CELESTIAL BODY: europa

tagging @wldestluv-rs, @lucidicer, @fizzytoo, @rottengurlz, @omgkayplays, @shadowcursedballs (rhys please 👐), and @wasabichips (valen please 👐)

#specifying the bg3 ocs i love like yeah tell me abt them 🫵 fizzy i was gonna suggest aelwyn but i figured you'd prefer amaya or karlee #river dipping #oc extras #theodore doe #echthroi #thank you for tagging me in this <333 i needed the distraction #i started going through my activity feed earlier but i stopped... so i'm gonna go back to doing that rn #i never actually went all the way back before which i need to do so 🧍#i think i need to go through october and the end of september? and then i should be good #fr... sorry if you've ever tried interacting with me 😭

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hunn1e-bunn1e · 5 months

Text

Diavolo - "Sit In"

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

In which a certain prince of the Devildom is once again swamped with work, but luckily his little human lover has come to his rescue. Or; In which Prince Diavolo has his darling boyfriend [Name] warm his lap while he slaves away on his paperwork.

👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑

The maroon-haired demon prince sighs gloomily as he slumps against his document-cluttered desk. He had been working for what felt like an eternity. Truthfully, it had only really been an hour or two, but it felt like he had been sitting there forever; it was just so boring! He could be hanging out with his boyfriend right now, doing whatever it is that his cute little human felt like doing; but no Barbatos made him work.

“Ugh…”

Diavolo groans; fidgeting with the fountain pen in his hands as he repeatedly taps on the desk; unknowingly creating a small pool of ink.

The poor demon desperately wants to leave the hellscape he's found himself in, but when he lifts his head to look at his butler, the man only smiles and shakes his head; gesturing with his hands to continue his work.

Abruptly; a knock sounded from behind the door. Diavolo shot upright in his chair; a relieved grin stretching across his lips. The door opens to reveal the very person he was just daydreaming about; his darling human lover: [Name].

The human boy peeks his head out from the partially opened door and looks from the seated demon to the butler who stands off to the side and back again. He raises a brow,–

“Oh. Are you busy right now, Dia?”

The h/c-ette queries softly; ready to get out of the busy man's hair as soon as he's told to.

Barbatos eyes his lord in suspicion, knowing the prince will drop whatever he's doing without a thought if it means he can attend to his lover's needs. The black-to-teal-haired man clears his throat; garnering the attention of the intruding Human Male.

“Unfortunately; his majesty is very bus—”

The poor steward was quickly cut off by his lord.

“Not at all! Well— actually I do have a few more papers to sign, but those can be done later! Now, what can I do for you, my treasure?”

Diavolo interrupts; giving his darling a dazzling boyish grin as he does so.

[Name] giggles at the prince's antics; giving the butler an apologetic smile before entering the room and gently closing the door behind him. Traipsing quickly over to the burly demon's desk; the human happily simpered. He carefully planted his hands on the desktop, fingers splayed, as he leaned forward just a bit.

“Are you sure you're not busy? I wouldn't want to keep you from your work. You know if you finish everything now, you'll have more free time later.”

The maroon-haired man chuckled at their concern; finding it cute that his little mortal lover was concerned about him. He scoots his chair back and away from his desk before patting his lap a few times, gesturing for them to have a seat. They, of course, comply; unceremoniously plopping their bottom onto the tops of his thick muscled thighs.

The demon wraps his arm around their waist; picking up his discarded pen and beginning to fill out the previously neglected paperwork. He chuckles softly as he feels you snuggle your head into his chest; leading him to give a gentle but affectionate squeeze to their soft thigh.

Diavolo lets out a pleased sigh; perhaps he should have you sit in his office while he works more often. Surely Barbatos wouldn't disagree, right?

👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

This work was made by the spite garnered from this lovely little ask I received from a mystery anon, right here.

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saintunhinged · 1 year

Text

Gifts of Love

asra x reader. requested by - @/ 🐇 anon.

word count 1.7k

summary : asra recieves gifts from his partner, you, for the heartsong festival. you recieve something just as thoughtful.

“Perfect.” You stand back to admire your surprise. Asra was still sleeping which gave you the opportunity to put small decorations around your shared room. It was a difficult task moving around while he was in the same room as you, but you ultimately managed to. You were proud of what you were able to accomplish.

Peeking through the sheer curtain was a stream of sunlight shining on Asra’s golden skin, making his features all the more beautiful. A smile gradually stretched across your face, and you initiated the final part of your plan: waking him up. Your eyes slid closed as you focused on creating corporeal phantasms of butterflies and bright flower petals that soon fluttered over his body.

Indiscernibly, Asra groggily twitches awake. His tired face shifts from weariness to confusion, then his sight lands on you. “What’s this?” He opens his hand allowing the petals to fall into his palm. They brighten, then burst with a cloud of purple smoke upon contact. “Are you doing this?” He avidly inquires.

The urge to grin is suppressed as you proudly nod. Asra is unable to keep from showing his admiration. He smiles softly, his tender gaze staring intently into your eyes. “Of course, you did. You never fail to amaze me.”

You reach beside the bed, retrieving a woven basket decorated in carnations, marigolds, and columbine. Inside are neatly folded pieces of paper, and tucked to the side is a loaf of pumpkin bread wrapped in a linen cloth from your favorite baker in town. Alongside it was a small box concealing another gift inside.

“What are these?” He asks, rummaging through the tons of paper. He then picks up one, eyeing it with curiosity.

You shrug, feigning ignorance. “Open it and find out.”

He does just that. “Free hugs on demand?” He reads in confusion.

As he goes through the rest, unfolding them, reading them, and then setting them aside, you use the time to explain what they are. “Think of them like tickets you get to cash in whenever. You can use any one at any point in time and by my given word I must see it through.”

“Don’t I get these anyway?” He playfully teases, a roguish glint in his eyes. He leans in dangerously close, so close you feel the warmth of his breath against your mouth.

You decide to play into his game. “Hmm, I don’t think so.” You dare to inch closer, feeling the featherlight touch of his lips on yours.

“These,” he starts, exaggeratedly waving the paper back and forth. “Say otherwise, my love.” Though he tries to maintain a straight face, a smile of mischief peeks through, letting you know he’s already having fun with the gift that left him in a favorable position. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll take full advantage of this?”

“I’m hoping you do.”

“Then I choose to use this one now.” He doesn’t bother showing the “ticket” to you. Instead, his lips are on yours in a split second. It’s a chaste kiss that warms you from head to toe. Just as the previous phantasms did, the rest glow, then dispel into varicolored clouds of smoke. When he pulls away, you feel compelled to follow.

“One free kiss isn’t enough. Surely you wouldn’t mind another.” Asra goes in for another one, but you press a finger to his soft lips and shake your head.

“There’s something else in there for you.” You say, pushing the basket closer to him. Asra digs around until he pulls out a small, black box. A smile grows on his face when he opens it. Inside sits a necklace and a pendant filled with white fog. “It’s an alistiope, almost like a frame of mind sensor. Each color reflects how I’m feeling at the moment. If I’m ever in trouble, you’ll know.”

He removes it and holds it at eye level, regarding the object with newfound wonder. The fog immediately changes from white to cardinal pink. His fingers trace the intricate carvings on the pendant’s cage in awe. “It’s beautiful. What does this color mean now?”

You lift the cushion from the bottom of the box and recover a card. There’s a list of colors with denotations beside them. It elaborates on colors mixing and their meanings, along with solid ones. “Intimacy, passion, and security.” He speaks those three words, then silence follows. His gaze speaks emotions even words cannot.

Your fingers run through his loose curls, then you hook the necklace around his neck. When you’re finished, Asra presses an affectionate kiss on the tip of your nose. “Thank you. I’ll wear it every second of every day.”

Last but not least, he takes interest in the pumpkin bread. He pushes his nose into the cloth, inhaling the spices. “I can’t wait to taste this, but it’ll have to wait. I have something for you, too. Come with me.” He seizes your hand and both of you make your way down the stairs to the main area of the shop. He leads you to the counter where a potted bonsai tree sits. “I know it’s kind of big, but we can find somewhere for it.” He states, unknowingly to you, he purposely belittles the importance of the tree. He stands behind you, one hand resting on your waist as the other rotates the pot.

Taped to the thick trunk is an envelope. You raise your eyebrow and cock your head to the side. “A note? I can only imagine what it says.” When you reach for it, you come to learn of the hole the paper once hid. Asra is quiet while he patiently watches you tear the envelope open. You can hardly contain your excitement as you unfold the paper.

INSTRUCTIONS OF CARE

DOB. 11.26 Sex. M

Feed twice a day.

Requires a lot of attention (but leave enough for asra!).

Through habitat cleaning twice a month.

Eats fruit, sap, insects...

The more you read, the more you realize these aren’t exactly the typical instructions for caring for a tree. When you reach the last line, you read: Look inside the tree. You waste no time setting the paper on the counter and bend down to peek inside. You’re met with a pair of eyes surrounded by fur peering back at you. “Oh, my Gods, Asra what is it?” You curiously ask, angling your head every which way to get a better glimpse of the creature.

“It’s a pygmy marmoset. Your familiar.” His statement take you by surprise. You stare at him, still processing the words that sound foreign to your ears. Your familiar.

You’re muddled with the information dropped on you. “But I thought my familiar had to choose me?” Sure, you would have loved nothing more than to have your own magical companion, but was it right for you.

Asra was quick to reassure you. “He did. I found him weeks ago. Despite all the things I was wearing that day, he was only interested in this.” He steps away to retrieve his satchel from the hook by the door. He fishes inside, pulling out your green emerald necklace infused with his magic and yours. “It was the one thing that didn’t belong to me. It was your magic he answered to.”

You take a second to mull over his revelation. Hearing it only makes the reality of it more real for you. You can’t explain the feeling, but at your core, you know it’s true. Your attention flickers between him and the animal, then you slowly break into a huge smile. “This is the best thing ever, thank you!” You throw your arms around him, pulling him into a bone–crushing hug.

“I don’t know if I’ll make it out of this hug alive. Then again, I can’t think of a better way to go.” He teases, but returns your embrace with equal vigor, nonetheless.

When you part, he reaches behind the counter to retrieve a clear canister filled with a light, amber colored substance, too thick to be the honey it resembled. “Here. It’s sap from a maple tree I collected a while ago. It should lure him out.”

All too eager, you screw the lid off and set the sap beneath the hole, and gently coax the marmoset out of hiding. He happily obliges, leaping from and to empty spaces on the counter. When his body is revealed, you find yourself cooing at it. “I’ve never seen anything cuter. Asra look! I didn’t know they made diapers this size.” You enthusiastically express, but his eyes are glued to you the whole time.

His elbows sit on the flat counter surface as he rests his head in his hands. “Neither have I.”

Pride shines in his violet eyes, watching you interact with the small animal. A doting expression plays over his face, and his fondness and affection for you is blatantly clear. “I’m glad I was able to do this for you. Seeing you like this, happy, makes me happy.” He adoringly affirms, filling your heart with an overwhelming warmth.

There’s no denying how loved Asra manages to make you feel even after all this time. “Being with you is enough to make me happy. This is just a bonus.” You motion to where your marmoset is head deep in the jar of sap and smile to yourself. “Does he have a name?”

He shakes his head, white strands of hair brush against his forehead. “I thought you could name him. Over a cup of tea, perhaps?” A low growl comes from his stomach and his cheeks flush red. “And maybe pumpkin bread.” He bashfully adds.

You both stare at each other incrediously before simultaneously succumbing to a fit of laughter. “Of couse, love.”

You were amazed to learn how much of a mess a small, but very energetic animal could make. When night came, Asra insisted on creating a ward around its temporary habitat until you formed a bond strong enough for establishing rules with it.

The two of you lie in bed, his arms hold you against his heated skin as you listen to the soothing cadences of his heartbeat. There’s a comforting silence in the night lulling you to sleep. Neither of you require words to know his heart beats for you as does yours for him. It’s a delightful feeling that only strengthens your unbounded affection for him. “I love you.” It’s a phrase that has become second nature for you.

You feel his lips caress the crown of your head. “I know.” He amorously utters softly. “And I love you, too.”

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