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#fae inspired
skritzzy · 10 months
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I feel like any aliens that were prey at some point in evolution would have an odd fear of humans. Mostly cause they look like predators, act a bit like predators, and ARE predators. One perfect example is when we're focused on something like a mosquito that's been bugging us for a long time and we are just done.
Alien: "What. What..?"
Human: *HUNTING down a mosquito it saw*
Alien: ".... yeah I am really uncomfortable...."
Human: *quiet footsteps, pupils dialated, intense focus,*
Alien: *WAR FLASHBACKS*
Human: "Found you." *absolutely desimates the mosquito, squashing it into a million pieces as it's guts and various body parts liquidize into blood of the bloodthirsty, now stained on the palm of the human. A living being now reduced to a useless corpse as the human wipes the remains on their pants*
Alien: "I feel like I've just gained trauma."
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egophiliac · 10 months
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redesigning my headcanon for Sebek's parents, based on important new information (SCALES)
(you can't see it but they're both wearing crocs)
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How You Turn My World; Chapter 1
Your day started with chaos, and my dear, it looks like it will continue to be chaos. But only time will tell. The Underground holds many surprises in store for you.
Characters; Grim, Lilia Vanrouge, Deuce Spade, Ace Trappola
Content; Gender-neutral reader, cat shenanigans, building the plot
Content Warnings; Swearing, illusion to marijuana but there is none
Word Count; 4.6 K
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |
Don't put my work into AI; I'll make sure you go to the Underground and don't return. Mwah mwah, kisses~
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Ah, the joys of cat parenthood. Days spent cuddling your little bundle of furry joy. That’s what your friends preached. That having a feline roommate was easy and rewarding. That you would benefit by having a cute and fuzzy companion that didn’t demand much of anything. That you would love your little kitty friend like a child. Well, either your friends were liars with questionable senses of humour, or you drew the short stick when it came to choosing a furry companion. And there’s always the possibility of it being both, what with having Ace as a friend and all, but you just hoped it was just your shit luck and not that you had shit friends.
Seriously, though, what higher power did you manage to piss off to deserve the royal hobgoblin of a cat you have? He has shit and pissed in your plants on several occasions. Demolished every single curtain he laid eyes on like he had a personal vendetta against them. Stole your breakfast off your plate right as you were about to take a bite. Puked on your last pair of good white shoes, which still had stains on them because they wouldn’t come out. The cherry on top of it all though was that he insists on yowling and crying in the middle of the damn night for no good reason. Rudely awaking you from the dead of sleep because he demanded attention. With how loud he was, you were surprised that you hadn’t gotten a noise complaint from any of your neighbours… yet. But then again, you could hear the upstairs neighbours’ children screaming bloody murder every so often — what were their names, the Clovers? They were probably so used to it that they threw you a bone, or they didn’t want extra grey hairs from filing a complaint to the landlord. So maybe Grim wasn’t all that bad, but he was still a gremlin child. 
“MROWWWWWW!!!!!” Ah, so tonight was no different then. Grim had decided that you needed to be woken up before even the birds started to sing, needed to be yanked out of the land of dreams. That whatever had caught the attention of his singular brain cell was more important than you recharging so you don’t accidentally say the wrong thing to your boss. Since last time you had slipped up and called him dad, even though no one in their right mind would leave him alone with a rutabaga unattended, and he went on a two-hour long monologue about how much of a kind and generous person he was for you to see him as a father figure. And your salary wasn’t high enough, nor would it ever be, to deal with his eccentric and maddening behaviour.
Maybe, just maybe, if you ignored him and stared at the ceiling long enough he would stop his caterwauling and go to sleep. “MROWWWW!!!!!” Apparently not.
Just one night, ONE NIGHT, of peace and quiet. PLEASE. But you knew that if you didn’t get up soon, he would get up on the bed and put his fluffy butt in your face… like he did last night and the night before that. Sighing, you begrudgingly got out of your cocoon of warm, fluffy, blankets, and hoped you would soon be back in them after dealing with Grim. Hopefully, he was just complaining about his food bowl not being as full as he would like it.
What was the time anyways? Three-thirty in the morning? Ugh, Grim! What did Ace say about it, ah, yes, “Primetime witching hour. Demons and all sorts of creepies” yada yada yada. But you didn’t pay any mind to him, as his annoying smug look would taunt you in your mind even though he was probably sound asleep, blissfully asleep. Something that you wanted to be doing, but woefully you were not.
Stepping out into the main living space, you shot the grey fuzzball the stink eye. “What the hell do you want? You absolute gremlin!” You hissed through gritted teeth, very much annoyed with your brat of a fur child and wanting nothing more than to crawl back to bed, hell, even the loveseat would suffice.  
The offending feline just trilled at you in response, and his tail vibrated, happy that you had come out to see him. How is he so cute but so annoying? He rubbed against your legs before trotting off to one of his hidey holes, which also served as his nest of your stolen socks. He has a weird obsession with socks. But he popped back out, holding something in his mouth. Something small and fuzzy that didn’t look like any of his toys.
“Prowwww,” he dropped it at your feet as if saying that catching whatever it was, was the equivalent to paying his share of rent. Which, it was very much not.
You closed your eyes and pinched your brow. Please be one of his toys. PLEASE be one of his toys. You chanted to yourself in your mind and then opened your eyes. Unfortunately, it was not one of his toys. The small, fuzzy thing in question seemed to be a mouse or some other kind of rodent. It was too late (too early?) for this, and quite frankly you didn’t have the brain power to confirm whatever the hell it was. All you knew was that it looked like a mouse, therefore it was a mouse.
“Is this what you’ve been screaming about this whole time? A mouse,” you sighed. Shaking your head, you went to the bathroom, grabbing some paper towel so you could at least put it outside for something else to eat, or go back to nature in some other way. It was better than just being left to decompose in the communal garbage bin. When you came back out though, it was nowhere to be seen. Now, either Grim decided to eat it like a good kitty cat, or, with your luck, it was still alive and was now running amuck in your apartment.
Grim’s chattering was coming from the kitchen now, and he was up on top of the fridge. It was running amuck in your apartment, how lovely.
“Why, why, are you like this?! Get down from there!” You really didn’t have the energy for this.
Grim just blinked at you before his eyes dilated. He leapt down from his perch on the fridge and was pawing at a corner by the window. Looking down and you couldn’t make out anything on the floor. But you had the oh-so-brilliant idea to look up toward the ceiling. The ‘mouse’ was very much alive, and wasn’t a mouse at all, since it was flying around and banging itself against the corner.
“YOU CAUGHT A FUCKING BAT?!”
He had indeed caught a fucking bat. And bats were normally fine, when they were outside. Not when they’re flying around your apartment at three o’clock in the morning and your cat is losing his goddamn mind trying to catch it. So no, this was very much not fine. 
The bat was about as pleased as you were with this whole situation and kept on flinging itself against the glass of the window, desperately trying to get back outside. How the hell did it get inside in the first place? That could be pondered on upon at a later time, as the first priority was getting it back outside.
“Don’t fly towards my head, bat. I’m just trying to get you back outside. You’re a nice bat, right? Nice bat, nice bat,” you whispered in a non-threatening tone. Could the flying mammal understand what you were saying? Mostly likely not. Hopefully it understood that you, unlike your cat, were trying to help and did not want some fresh bat as your late night snack tonight.
After what felt like forever fuddling with the window to open with a broom in hand, just in case the bat decided to dive bomb your head, you finally got the cursed thing open. 
Grabbing Grim, who was still trying to catch the bat for a second time tonight, you got back to your bedroom and locked the door shut. You hoped that the bat would take the hint that it now had a path to freedom, but only time, and a bit of sleep, would tell. Slumping against the door frame, you sighed and looked over at Grim. He was playing with the door stop, the boing, boingg, boinggg sounds filling in the quiet. Whether it was to amuse himself, or to annoy you was a fifty-fifty bet.
Just as you were about to crawl back under the covers a string of anxiety connected in your head. Shit, did Grim get bit? DAMMIT GRIM! After leaving a somewhat desperate and tired call to your vet’s voicemail, alongside an apology for the late call (early call?), you peeked outside to see if the bat was still flying around. According to Google, the bat should be tested for rabies. You did not trust your no brain cell having fluff ball to know better than to get bit by a possibly rabid bat. But it was gone, so yet again, you were out of luck.
You had enough with today, even though it had just really begun. Pulling up the covers, you sighed in the dark warmth of your blanket cocoon. Grim was busying himself by trying to pounce on your feet, but you ignored him, falling back to sleep and hoping that the rest of your day wouldn’t bring any more shenanigans, migraines, or small flying mammals.
By some miracle, you managed to get Grim to the vet the very same day. Your boss agreed to let you work from home because he is ever so kind and generous… It did help that one of the other higher-ups nearly nagged off his ear upon hearing about the condition of your cat. Even through the phone you could hear it, and could only imagine the spectacle it must have been. Oh well, you had the day off and that is what mattered… but you would be lying if you said that you didn’t cough out a laugh just imagining the scene on the other side of the phone.
You were relieved, Grim on the other hand was not having it. To be fair, you did trick him into his crate with some tuna. He made his disdain known to all though by crying the entire way there. You almost felt bad for him, almost being the key word. 
“You have no one to blame for this but yourself, ya know.” You huffed at him, feeling your shit sleep all too well. “Crying about it won’t help you any.”
Grim let out a pathetic little mew. His little, bright, blue eyes being the only visible part of him, which peered out miserably from the crate. Caving to the kitty manipulation, you poked your finger in as a peace offering. Grim booped his nose to your finger and then proceeded to nibble on it; such a vicious beast.
The vet visit went as well as you could hope it could, as Grim only tried to maim the vet a few times. Hey, it was an improvement from last time, as he had actually peed on them. So yes, trying to maim was vastly better than seeing your figurative child pee on the doctor. You’re pretty sure your vet didn’t go through years of schooling and thousands of dollars into debt just to get peed on by your unruly cat. But Grim was won over by the offering of that cat gogurt, his nose and stomach betraying him. Note to self, stock up on some of that stuff.
The rest of the visit went on without a hitch; he had some blood drawn, got his booster shot for rabies, and even managed to squeeze in a bonus nail trim. There was no evidence of any bite or puncture marks, so Grim by some miracle, did indeed have enough brain cells not to get bit.
“Grim will have to be watched for about forty-five days,” the vet hummed, checking Grim’s chart. “Since you don’t have any other animals it shouldn’t be too difficult to keep him in quarantine. If you see any symptoms be sure to bring him back, just in case.” They gave you a tired smile, and then turned that smile towards their cantankerous patient. “And thank you for deciding not to pee on me this time, Grim. I’m not so bad, see?”
Grim swatted at them, which was his answer to the vet’s question. In Grim’s book, the vet was that bad.
Ignoring his attitude, as you would whenever you came across a screaming toddler and exhausted parent while doing your grocery run, you turned back to your vet. “Thank you, and sorry for Grim. If it makes you feel any better, he’s just as much as a gremlin child at home as well.” At least today went better than last time.
The vet chuckled goodheartedly, “Don’t worry about it, I have more unruly patients than little Grim here.”
Damn, they have seen some shit, haven’t they? … Maybe I should, I don’t know, bring them a gift basket next time I’m in? Or maybe a gift card for a spa day or something??? You should really get them something for the amount of dry cleaning they probably needed to do.
With the visit over, and Grim having a clear bill of health, you shoved him back into his carrier with zero decorum, closing the door as fast as possible before he could escape and try to hide behind the counter like he did last time. I know your tricks, cat. Speaking of bills, the one that was waiting for you at the front desk was enough for you to point an icy glare at your unruly ward.
“You’re lucky that I love you, asshole.” And much like the vet you too got a swat as your thank you. Wonder if this is what the Clovers feel about their children? At least their kids didn’t wake them up in the middle of the night with a bat they caught… You shook your head, moving past those thoughts, and hauled your wailing cat back home.
...
By the time you got back to your place, it was just a little past noon. The rest of your day was wide open, and you didn’t really have anything else to do, since taking Grim to the vet was the most urgent of your tasks. Your place could benefit from some tidying, since your boss had recently been demanding more as of late and has been even less useful than he usually was… which was saying something. Seriously, how does he have his position? It was baffling. You swore you could hear his monologue playing on loop in your head whenever you thought of the man, which you tried to keep to a minimum for your own sanity… whatever little of it still remained that is.
Shaking your head to rid the annoying voice, you put on your favourite playlist and got to work. You took your time, putting away the dishes, vacuumed the main room, and even got rid of the dust on the high shelves. But your place was small, so it didn’t take very long for you to tidy up, and deep cleaning could wait for another day when you had enough energy to mentally and physically deal with that undertaking.
You knew that your email probably had a few messages, but it could wait. You weren’t on the clock and therefore didn’t have to check it. Only do the stuff you’re required to do when you get paid, it makes your downtime way more enjoyable.
But, you were bored. The cleaning helped with it, but with the majority of it done and the more intense stuff waiting for another day, you had nothing else to do. And while doom scrolling through social media may fill in the time, it too, was boring, predictable.
… There were two people though who were the exact opposite of boring and predictable. And yes, they did give you your fair share of migraines and questioning your life decisions more than you usually do, they were your best friends. And you were in need of having a movie night with them.
Opening up the group chat, you typed in a message.
| The Responsible One | You guys down for a movie night at my place tonight?
And almost immediately, Ace replied.
| Ginger, derogatory | depends  | ya got fiid?
Deuce responded shortly after.
| Mama’s Boi | Yeah, I’m down | What time? | . . . | And what’s fiid?
|The Responsible One | How does 6 sound?
| Ginger, derogatory | IT WAS A TYOP | *TYPO | I MEANT FOOD | F O O D
| Mama’s Boi | 6 works for me
| The Responsible One | I took a screenshot of that btw love you Ace | Thanks Deuce for actually giving me an answer. | What FIID do you guys want?
| Ginger, derogatory | FUCK YOU | … but yeah 6 works 4 me | any is cool with me
| The Responsible One | Yes yes, fuck you too Ace | Bring your own snacks it is then | See you guys at 6!
That gave you about ninety minutes to hide your good snacks, since the last time, Ace had made himself too comfortable and ate all your fancy treats that you paid way too much for. But like they say, you deserve to ‘treat yoself’ … Ace still owed you for those snacks though. They were fucking expensive, prick.
Ninety minutes didn’t take very long, but you managed to hide some of the mess that you hadn’t tackled in your bedroom; it could stand to wait. And the first of your dork friends arrived right on time, count on Deuce trying to be punctual… even if he was panting like he had run a marathon to make it.
“You know,” you sighed, “you didn’t have to sprint here.” You grabbed a glass, filled it with some ice water, and handed it over to your flushed and heaving friend. Please don’t pass out on me. “It’s not a race.”
Deuce took the glass and downed it, still catching his breath. He lifted up the tote bag he was carrying, “Mom made brownies.” A series of coughs escaped him, but he gave you a bashful smile and showed off the multiple Tupperware containers filled to the brim with still warm chocolatey divineness. “Didn’t want them to get cold! Oh! She also made extra for you too!”
He is such a sweetheart… but he’s also pretty dense at times, still a sweetie though. You could have just warmed them back up in the microwave — yes, they weren’t the same as fresh from the oven, but still — you didn’t have the heart to tell Deuce that though. He looked so proud that he made it on time and that the brownies were still warm. What did you do to deserve Deuce as a friend? 
“Also,” he fished around the tote bag, “I brought extra popcorn, since we ate all of yours last time.” And he pulled out an unopened bag of popcorn, the bashful smile turning bright.
Deuce took a step forward, but stopped and backpedalled, taking off his shoes. After he set them neatly by the door, he made his way to the kitchen, and set all of his assorted belongings on the meagre counter space. Once he unloaded the tasty cargo, he made his way over to your loveseat, which had seen better days, and sat down, getting comfortable.
He was looking at you, and there was a little crease in between his eyebrows. Deuce only wore that look when he was worried. “Are you feeling okay? You seem a bit… off.” 
You gave him a tired smile, “Meh. Tired, stressed, not enough money. You know, the usual.” You noticed that his frown was only deepening, so you took a seat next to him and patted his shoulder. “Seriously, Deuce, I’m okay. Plus you got enough on your own plate without worrying about me. I’m going to be fine.”
Deuce pursed his lips, but let out a long sigh, accepting your answer without much fuss. You were capable of dealing with whatever it was, he knew that. You were one of the most capable, and stubborn, people that he knew. You would be fine in the end. “Whose turn is it to pick the movie this time?” He asked, stretching out, trying not to bump into you.
“Hmm, your turn actually,” you hummed. “But–”
Bzz! Bzzz! BZZZ! Someone was buzzing your door, repeatedly pushing at the button. Only one person you know did that. BZZZZZZZZ! And he wouldn’t let up until you answered the door.
Groaning, you got out of your spot and peaked through the peephole. On the other side was none other than Ace, who’s leg was bouncing and he kept on pushing your damn buzzer.
You only opened the door when he decided to lean on it, making him almost fall… almost. Maybe next time would be the day where you would see him eat dirt. “Happy you could join us on this lovely evening,” you drawl, doing a little bow.
Ace rolled his eyes at you, “Seriously? Feeling petty tonight I see.” He too took off his shoes, since the last time he wore them in and tracked in mud from outside, you made him clean it up. He learned his lesson that day, and really didn’t feel like cleaning your floor again.
You smiled at him, “Yeah, yeah I am~” You dropped the smile and went back to your comfy spot beside Deuce. “Also,” you turned around right as Ace was about to plunder your fridge. You glared at him, and he backed off, giving you a sheepish look. “Don’t even think about stealing my food, there’s popcorn and you have food at your home. Unless you want to start paying for my groceries, stick to what’s on the counter.”
Closing the fridge, Ace busied himself by making himself some popcorn, and sneaking a brownie or two in his mouth as he waited for the microwave to finish making his treat. While he was busy in the kitchen, you and Deuce were slowly going through the seemingly endless catalogue of movies. 
“What are we even watching tonight? There’s no special occasion,” Ace mused, sitting on the counter, swinging his legs back and forth. “Action? Horror? Sci-fi? Perhaps,” he paused and made a kissy face, “romance?~”
You stared at him, until he dropped the kissy face. “Never do that again,” you deadpanned, turning back to the screen. “Found something?”
Deuce was hovering over a title, Labyrinth. “Can we watch this? Mom said it was one of her favourites when she was a kid.”
Ace plopped into the armchair, and started chowing down on his fresh popcorn. “Dude, your mom probs just had the hots for, uhhh, Jared? Or whatever his name is.”
You threw a pillow at him, but missed unfortunately, and Ace flipped you off. “First off, Ace, his name is Jareth not Jared. And yeah, we can watch it,” you said, stretching back and getting into prime comfortable blob position. Oh yeah, you weren’t getting back up. 
Once Deuce got up and brought some snacks back in, you started the movie. And damn, these brownies are divine. You really needed to ask Ms. Spade for her recipe. The popcorn was decent, overall meh, but the brownies! THE BROWNIES!!!
You all settled down after being rationed your snacks, and you pressed play. Ace and Deuce both nearly choked on popcorn when Jareth appeared.
“WHY ARE HIS PANTS SO TIGHT?!” They both choked in unison. 
You just rolled your eyes and ignored them, trying to focus on the movie. Other than you nearly having to do the Heimlich manoeuvre on the both of them, the movie continued without incident, until a certain gremlin decided to start crying right as Magic Dance began playing. Seriously Grim, must you choose the most inopportune time to act like Toby does in the movie? But that’s life with a cat.
You paused the movie and looked at Deuce. You were in prime comfortable blob mode, you weren’t getting up. Deuce patted you on the shoulder and went to go see what on Earth Grim was screaming about. Ace just continued to scarf back brownies, thank goodness you hid some away before he got here, or else you wouldn’t have any come tomorrow.
But Deuce came running back out of your room, since that was where Grim was. And you were about to question why he looked like he’d just seen a ghost when something blurred right past him; something small, fuzzy, and flying.
The damn bat is back?! Yeah, you definitely felt like you were cursed.
Now, you could either get up and deal with the bat, since Deuce was just trying to shoo it outside the window with a mop and Ace was screaming much like Grim was, or you could stay warm and comfy and hide under the blanket, pretending that this wasn’t your waking reality…
Option B was really tempting right now, to be honest. Sighing, you got up, massaged your temples to collect yourself, before arming yourself with a broom yet again. Grim has his rabies vaccine, you don’t, so you weren’t taking any chances.
“WHY IS THERE A BAT IN YOUR APARTMENT?!” Ace hissed, ducking as the bat swooped near him.
You opened the window right open, almost threatening to take it off its bearings, “Because the universe hates me, that’s why!” Was it dramatic? Yes. Did it contain a seed of truth? Yes. So that’s what you went with. Was it really an exaggeration though? In the past twenty-four hours it really felt like the universe was sending you a personal ‘Fuck You ♡ ' letter with a kiss mark on the envelope.
You and Deuce tried to work together as a team to coax the bat outside. Come on, the window is wide open. Come on bat, get your fuzzy ass out of my place. 
All that was happening though, was some scene that belonged in a Three Stooges act. With Ace and Grim screeching — yes they counted as one collective unit — Deuce trying his best, but not getting anywhere, and you feeling like you were about to explode from the stress and noise. Even on an impromptu day off, you didn’t get a break, not really.
Getting whisked away by the Goblin King is looking real appealing right now. The bat swooped down close to you, and your instincts kicked in and you swung at it, making it crash land into your coffee table, right into the popcorn. And alongside the popcorn getting spilled everywhere, there was also a poof of green sparkles.
When the green sparkles subsided, there was a strange person with long black hair and red streaks, wearing something that looked straight out of a Ren Faire, and he was standing on your table. The strange man looked straight at you, and you looked back, blinking fast. Did Ms. Spade give us a different kind of brownie? Or is this actually happening?
He snapped his fingers, and you watched as he slowly disappeared into another poof of green sparkles. You were backing up, since hey there was a stranger in your place out of nowhere, but thanks to your shit luck, you tripped over your own feet, tumbling into them. And as the green poof subsided, both you, and the stranger, were nowhere to be seen. Leaving a very confused Ace, Deuce, and Grim to wonder what the hell happened to you.
And honestly? You were thinking the same. Where the FUCK am I?!
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Tags; @busycloudy, @eynnwwyjth, @identity-theft-101, @ithseem, @krenenbaker, @ryker-writes, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii
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Author's Note; And I'm finally showing this to the world, after months of collecting dust in my Google Docs. I have no idea how long this fic will go on for, and the length may be dictated by how much feedback and interaction this gets, so yeah. General rating for this is Teen but might change in the future; I won't tag people if that happens though, cuz, yeah.
If you enjoyed this story, and want to read more of my stuff while I slowly work on more installments to this fic, check out my masterlist! Please ignore any spelling mistakes, I write and die with no beta.
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nightfaeses · 1 year
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"You ask why I had loved her,
I ask; how could I not?" ☀
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laroserie · 5 months
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high noble fae lord that take pity on you, a poor little fragile human servant and plan to make you their play toy but they end up falling a bit too hard for you so you end up becoming his number one priority
they try to hide it by telling you 'they could never fall in love with some measly stupid human' but they will rip the eyes out of anyone that end up staring at you a little too long. they aren't the type to be coy with their pseudo-rivals.
they tell you you are nothing to them but they will take you shopping every few weeks because they need to dress you up all pretty for them ! but don't let it go to your head, it's only because they don't want you to be a stain next to them, nothings more, nothings less obviously.
they like to play on the power imbalance to keep you obedient, you are only a servant, their personal servant, so your entire life is in their hands, - oh and of course the lives of your friends and family.
they could probably end up trapping you into marrying them, because they genuinely want to be forever bind with you until death do you part (quite literally, fae marriage are something) but also because they desperately want to get away from what is the milieu of the fae nobility and its culture of arranged (forced) marriage, from which they want to get away from as much as they can
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wrixie · 1 month
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📍STOP 1: MOUNT KOMOREBI - SUMMERTIME
meet robin e. shio, a smart, nerdy, food motivated girl from willow creek; at the very young age of 24 she's determined to travel the globe, take in every sight and gain any piece of knowledge she can get into her little noggin
after spending most of her cash on a plane ticket, she landed in mount. komorebi and found herself in wakaba with nothing but a tent, the clothes on her back and 10 simoleons to her name
transcript:
Tuesday, July 2nd Mt. Komorebi 84 degrees - heatwave
Robin E. Shio
MY WALLET BALANCE §10.00
TO DO MT. KOMOREBI SIGHTSEER - Eat Food at the Festival of Light, Snow, or Youth - Take a Selfie with the Mt. Komorebi Mascot - Collect a Simmi by Popping Open a Simmi Capsule - Swim for 1 Hour in Wakaba's River
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lnbeep-art · 6 months
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When I wake in the morning…
"How am I blessed to be the sole captive audience to your morning’s rebirth? To be the one who lays beside you when you rest under the moonlight? I know all of you, and yet I find myself jealous; jealous of how the sunlight knows you before I do. My breathtaking and wondrous phoenix.
"If I held the world, I would stop its axis if it meant a few minutes more here under these duvet covers. Where we are not Queen and King of our kingdom. But even as we start our day, I know we will do this again. I will then become your moon to bid you a good night, just before you close those stars you call your eyes.”
Liliana belongs to @amayagt; Remy is mine! The cheesy blurb above is meant to be read interchangeably in either of their voices… They are both head over heels for each other.
Felt like drawing something to go along with the bottom two pics Fae did for us. 🥺
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glittertomb · 2 months
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Swamp creatures (again!) by aibondar
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adhdslugcrimes · 4 days
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Fae-fetched
Dick: I made this flower crown for your bones.
Wally, slurping on a smoothie: that's nice but I'mma have to say no.
Dick, big ol eyes: please? Your bones?
Wally: no, I'm sorry no...
Dick, sad: aw now I can't make soup...
Zatanna: what—
Dick, smiley: nothing
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columboscreens · 6 months
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ghouljams · 9 months
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I was just stalking your fae au and was reading the moose-creature-mimic posts, and I saw you mention that witch can feel when the mimic is trying to break her wards.
Whenever I hear about Fae, my mind immediately goes to the magic system from one of my favourite book series in which people who make wards have to develop wards for specific creatures, and if a creature that they haven’t warded against tries to enter, they can break through, if not break the rest of the wards.
Let’s say for a moment that something like that happens in the Fae AU, where some kind of unfamiliar creature from a foreign civilization comes a knocking on witches doorstep, and is able to break through her wards.
What do you think would happen? If Witch is connected to them, would Witch ‘break’ too? How would Price react to the pure panic and pain shooting through the tethers as an unfamiliar creature breaks through his darling’s wards?
I feel like she would be absolutely broken afterwards (if she survives that is-) Her wards are her safe space, she had never had that happen, she didn’t know what happened.
Would price still trust her to be safe in her own home?
Would SHE still trust her to be safe in her own home??
Just some thoughts 🫣
Oooooooooh. Ok yeah I can do some horror with this. Love the concept. So the Canon answer is that warding in this magic system can be as broad or as narrow as the caster wants. Wards can be weak and they can be broken, but it isn't going to harm the caster, maybe it'll give then a bad feeling but not any actual harm. Not a very good ward if it harms the wrong target IMHO.
For the Witch's home these are wards that are basically generations of people enforcing and reinforcing an all purpose boundary. It's an iron wall that nothing(save humans) is getting through without a permit, and it's tied to Witch both through her magic and her blood. She can feel when things mess with it, but it's like getting asmr, it isn't actually affecting her. She's mentioned before that her wards are threats, so anything that isn't stopped by a simple denial of entry is going to have those threats enacted upon it.
But let's say something broke her wards, let's throw some rocks through the windows and bust shit up. I am going on record to say, this isnt canon:
You feel something crack in the air before you feel it break. The splintering spiderweb of intangible bonds being pushed too far hits you between the ribs and you have to clutch the kitchen counter to stay standing. Something is deeply, desperately, wrong. You don't know how or why(or what) but something is working very hard to get in to your space.
It shouldn't be possible in the first place, you have known this house, these wards, your whole life and you've never felt it give way. You've felt it change, felt it ripple, felt it pop and fizz when it doesn't like what you've let in, but never this. Never the creaking pressure of it bowing inwards and splitting under its own tension. Your fingers wrap tight around your athame as you go to check your back garden, peaking through the curtains. There's nothing.
But you can feel it, you can feel it splintering like a pain in your chest. Tight and radiating out from your sternum. It tingles down your arm, makes your grip feel looser than you know it is. You grab your back door's handle, take a few breathes to give yourself strength, and open it to shoo away whatever is pressing your wards. And very suddenly the splinters give way, like a hole punched through a window.
It feels like all the air has been forced out of your lungs. A cool breeze blows through your door, wrong so very, very, wrong. The smell of moss invades your nose, burdened with the scent of decay. Slime mold oozing against your desperate breaths. You tug your shirt to cover your nose and mouth as the battering ram that had been beating your barrier steps through.
The horns of it scrape your ceiling, actually that bothers you more than it should, you're the one that has to fix it later. Velvet hangs from its antlers, freshly scraped and red, gory and divine. It stands on two clover hooves, and looks at you with malice. If you can even discern an expression from the thing. It's face is completely smooth save for its eyes, or it was smooth. A crack forms along the bottom of its smooth surface, splintering and chipping as it rips its mouth open and screams at you.
The sound is overpowering, dizzying, you feel your ears pop and then the noise is gone, replaced by a persistent dull ringing. You truly wonder when your life got so interesting. You hate interesting. You blame Price.
You cough, gag. You have to drop your makeshift mask to retch against the stench of rotten decay on this thing. It smells like death, weeks old bodies left to fester where no one will find them. You gag again, fingers curling around your throat as you try to keep you athame raised.
Your wards are silent, you home is silent, and you realize that you've never actually experienced true silence. Something is always buzzing or humming with magic, you always have music playing or bottles clinking, you're always surrounded by sound. Now it's all stopped. Even the ringing in your ears has settled into a cottony muffle. You can't feel any of your magic. Your numbed to it.
You drop your hand from your throat to your chest. You can't even feel the tethers there. Your fingers move over the fabric of your shirt without catching, there's not tightness to pull, not warmth to catch. You feel cavernous, empty past empty. What the fuck is that thing.
Whatever it is it seems to have finished its evaluation of you. Finished working whatever spell it was weaving. It takes a step towards you. You don't wait for it to take another before running. Scrambling away from the broken seal of the door towards whatever is heavy and throw-able.
You do your best not to let blind panic take over, to not just run wherever feels safe. You've always thought it was silly when people in horror movies don't do the smart thing, but you've never been in a horror movie before. You bolt towards your bedroom. It's the best guarded room in the house. Even if you can't feel your magic it should still be there. Right?
You feel the swip of the things claws through the air as it tries to grab you. You run straight past your front door without a second thought, sure you don't want whatever that is to be unleashed on the general public. It's claws dig deep gouges into the plaster of your wall, and you pray it doesn't do the same to your bedroom door. You know it will, but it can't hurt to pray. You're not in the mood to be picky with magic right now.
You get your bedroom door closed just in time to hear it splinter as the creature throws itself against it. You don't bother with chalk, digging your athame into the door and scratching sigils and circles as quickly as you can. When you tap them they sit absolutely dead. You smack your hand against your messy circle, willing the magic to respond. You smack it again as the creature throws itself against your door. The circle stays as it was, motionless, silent, still as a drawing.
You are suddenly much more comfortable allowing panic to overtake you. If you're powerless there's really no reason to keep your emotions in check. Your breath heaves, short and quick as you back away from your door and look towards your window. No magic swirls, no books rip themselves from your shelves, your panic heightens and nothing happens. How mundane.
One of the creatures claws punches a hole through the center of your circle, then another, and another. You back towards your window as it grips the wood of the door and attempts to pull it from its hinges. Your fingers push at your window, try to find the seams of it, try to get it open. It doesn't budge, it feels like it's been painted on. You bang your fist against the glass without so much as a crack. The wood behind you splinters. The crunch of it deafening over the silence.
"Price, Price, fuck I am not fucking around Price please," You beg pressing yourself back against the window as the creature drops pieces of the door onto your floor. Even if your magic doesn't work his still must. You've never hear of a fae not responding to their name. Granted you don't know the full thing, you don't know if that's really his name and not just a nickname. It might hold no power without the tethers between you. That doesn't stop you from saying it like a prayer, hoping if you speak him into existence enough times he might come and save you.
Your shoulders are grabbed by an invisible force as you are physically shaken. Your ribs shake, muscles tensed too tight to even take a breath.
There is a wet ache spreading over your stomach, you begin to tilt your head down to see what's wrong and Price catches you. His hand holds the back of your head, pulls it back up and shoves it against his shoulder. "Don't look," he tells you just as quickly as he'd stopped you. You nod against his shoulder.
He pulls something from you, rips the proverbial bandaid off, and you bite him at the pain. It feels like your heart has been knocked out of place, like your ribs have been played as a xylophone. Your stomach twists on itself. Suddenly you are back in your kitchen staring at the cabinets, the space where the creatures antlers had scraped the ceiling. The scratches are still there.
Then the shaking starts. Every muscle in your body starting to unspool in a violent shudder that must quake the very earth you stand on. It's loud. The house is so loud. The wards are practically screaming at you, you threshold wails and sobs where it has been brutalized. Your back door is still swung open to red and orange leaves, a lovely autumn day that leaks the smell of wet earth into your home. Price turns to follow your shaking gaze and kicks the door shut behind him.
"What-" You can't get anything more out around the aftershocks of panic. You're sure your house must look like a war zone.
"Probably some American invention," Price mumbles, "You weren't under long, deep breaths."
You suck in a breath, press your know into his shirt to smell the cool tobacco. It helps. Price keeps a firm grip on the back of your head, keeps you looking where he wants you to while his other hand does something. He touches you in a way you can't explain. It's almost metaphysical the way he zips you up, just on the right side of freezing. You can almost feel his fingers moving muscle and viscera out of the way as he does whatever he's doing. Fixing whatever just happened.
"Fucking hell your wards shredded that thing, surprised it even had the strength to touch you," There's something at the edge of Price's voice, fear your think. You're not sure what he's scared of, it isn't a comforting sound.
"How're you-" You try to focus on the important questions, like why Price hasn't been shredded.
"You lit up like a damn Christmas tree, thought I was gonna have my own attack with the panic you shot my way," He draws his hand away from your stomach, apparently finished with his fussing, "wards were too busy to notice me slip in."
Makes sense, even now they're too busy with repairs to pay attention to your regular.
"It broke my door," It's funny what you latch onto once shock starts to set in. "What did it want?"
"Same thing we all want," Price tells you, and you hate hearing him say it(we), because he doesn't mean it kindly, "you."
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ghost-bxrd · 2 months
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I want Fae!Dick to scare Deathstroke, or Jason using his "scary big brother privileges" 🥺
Omg literally can you imagine tho!?
Like, I don’t know much about Deathstroke, only that he’s apparently had a phase or two where he’s obsessed with Robin and making him his apprentice.
And Dick? Oh boy did Slade bite off more than he could chew with that particular sidekick.
Dick is amused.
When Slade tries to threaten him? Well, sure. Okay, he can play along. He’s got his gimmick with the titans right now and Bruce isn’t here to lecture him on morals. So, bring it, old man! And Slade? Totally convinced he scared the kid into submission? He’s in for a nasty surprise, because he was expecting an angry, terrified kid who was gonna fight him every step of the way. Someone he’d have fun breaking and molding into his version of a good soldier.
He’s not prepared for Dick “several rows of teeth” Grayson, for Robin “you should really work on leaving so many loopholes in your instructions” sidekick to Batman, for Richard “I am about to make you regret the day your mom and dad had their first kiss” Grayson-Wayne.
And Slade does. He regrets it so, so much. By day seven he’s ready to throw in the towel when he once again wakes up in the middle of a swamp with Robin splashing through the murky waters like it’s a day at the beach, animatedly talking to a something that looks like an alligator but has way too many eyes and feathers to be one.
“What? You only said not to move anywhere with trees again. We’re in a swamp!”
“This counts as the woods!”
“You said trees tho” :))))
“There ARE trees!!!!”
“They’re mangroves, jackass. God, read the room. They’re real sensitive about being called trees.”
(Slade will forever deny that he sheds a tear out of sheer relief when Batman comes to pick up his weird af kid)
And I’m afraid Jason would never actively have to invoke scary older brother privileges. It’s more of a “Dick, I know I complained about my maths teacher one (1) time, but please don’t have the deer eat her.”
Dick, who was totally about to tell the deer to eat her: “… Not even a nibble?” 🥺
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catpriciousmarjara · 8 months
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DP X DC
Ao3
The Job Offer
"And why not you?", said the man. "You're intelligent, skilled, and adaptable. Most importantly, you're entertaining. That last part becomes very important when dealing with my kind".
A ring glinted in the dim light as he gestured with his hands. "Plus, there wouldn't be any danger in the first place! Our lot tend to stick to the Rules, you see? And not harming the messenger is most certainly a Rule".
A sip of coffee. Eyes filling with mirth.
"In the off chance that someone did take offence, all you have to do is amuse them for a while, and as I said, you're very good at that. But don't worry, they won't take offence".
Dick Grayson, attention still half focused on the vicious black claws on the man's hand, had to ask, "And why won't they?"
The man's pleasant smile didn't falter. But it did slowly morph into a grin with way too many teeth to be normal. The young vigilante had to suppress a shudder.
When the man?it spoke, the voice resonated. "Because you'll be one of mine. And they won't dare touch what's mine".
The teeth gleamed.
And just as abruptly as it shifted, the air changed, the pressure lifted, and the man was smiling once more.
Dick was left off-footed and tightly clutching the arms of his chair, his breath fogging in the still frigid air. He hadn’t even noticed the temperature dropping.
He looked at the man nonchalantly sitting across from him as if he hadn't just taken years off of Dick's life. The vigilante was not one to scare easily. Yet, mere moments ago, Dick had felt a fear so primal that it was maddening. It was not the kind of fear a human being could evoke, no matter how frightening their actions may be. Dick had seen the worst of Gotham, and Gotham was a cesspit on a good day. But he hadn't ever felt like this before today. If there was ever a question about the humanity of his companion before...well it was answered now.
To be honest, he couldn't quite recall how he got here in the first place. Everything was a blur.
No...not quite. His memories were alright, it's just that his mind couldn’t grasp them. 
And every second in this...space, had felt muted. As though he was lying beneath several layers of sheer fabric; he could somewhat feel things, see things, but his senses were muffled.
The spike of fear from before wasn't him breaking through as much as he was allowed to break through, and now he was safely back beneath the dampening cloud once more. It was almost comforting.
Dangerous.
Dick only remembered what had happened in bits and pieces. Being fired from Robin, the legacy he had forged for himself, named after his mother's love, and garbed in Grayson colours.
Being angry and distraught. Not knowing what to do.
It had taken him weeks to reorient himself. A month to gather his composure.
He vaguely recollected a cafe in Jump City. He had been sitting in a booth, contemplating his options...
Someone had sat right across from him, right?
He had looked up…
“Hello. May I sit here?”
“...Sure. Go ahead.”
“Daniel Nightingale.”
“...Richard Grayson.”
" I know. You shouldn’t give out your name so freely by the way. Also, could I have a bit of your time?"
"Um...yeah, sure?"
“Perfect!”
And the next thing he knew, he was Here.
Wherever here was.
(Why had he said yes then? He would never have done that normally.)
At first his mind had been adamant in believing that here was the very same cafe he had been sitting in. But Dick wasn't trained by the man known as the World's Greatest Detective for nothing. However, it had taken him an embarrassing few moments to start noticing the abnormalities.
For one thing, he had been sitting in a booth in a cafe, not at an ornate wooden table, much like the one in Bruce's home office. The only thing the cafe table and this one had in common was that they were both rectangular.
Secondly, their table was covered by a veil. A huge gauzy one hanging from above. But try as he might he couldn't see where it was hanging from, just a yawning darkness.
Finally, he could see shadows moving beyond the veil, and the more he looked, the more bizarre they became. And at one point, the shadows lost all pretence of humanity. They weren't even humanoid, let alone human.
He definitely wasn't in Jump City anymore.
It had taken him even longer to notice the man sitting across him. That he hadn’t left this Daniel Nightingale behind.
Wispy white hair.
"Ah! You noticed so quickly. You really are the perfect fit for the job!"
Green. green eyes.
"Apologies for the veiling. It's necessary however.., some things are not just meant for mortal eyes, you see. Without it, you might just go insane! We wouldn't want that now would we?"
Unnaturally pale skin.
"Enough dillydallying! But first, introductions. You may call me either Daniel or Nightingale. By what name would you prefer to be called?”
Something about that question made the ex-Robin’s hindbrain pay attention. The wording of it, the tone…
You shouldn’t give out your name so freely by the way.
Could I have a bit of your time?
Something had felt incredibly off, so he had gone ahead and given one of the alternate names he had been thinking of taking up now that Robin was over.
“You may call me Nightjar.”
Nightingale had looked incredibly pleased then. And a bit smug too.
“Let me cut to the chase then Nightjar. I’m here to offer you a job. You’re a perfect fit for the role. We offer excellent compensation, and flexible work hours. Considering you’re out of work now that you’ve been fired from Robin, I believe my offer would be interesting for you.”
For some reason, perhaps because of all the strange things that happened, the fact that Nightingale seemed to know his alter ego hadn’t surprised Dick. Instead of asking how he came to know about this particular information, including the fact that he got fired, he decided to keep the conversation rolling on this supposed job offer. He had an inkling that he won’t get anywhere even if he asked, so might as well mine some information by making the other man talk.
“What kind of job is it? And what exactly would be included in the compensation?”
In response the man had snapped his fingers, and produced a file out of nowhere. He opened it, turned it around and slid it across the table. Dick started. Nightingale made a go ahead gesture, a smile on his lips once more. Dick gingerly dragged it a bit closer, and took a look.
“As you can see Nightjar, the position being offered is that of a courier. Due to many reasons, delivery across the realms is a cumbersome affair, not the least due to political complications. The best system to lay down in this situation was to have an impartial party be in charge of the work. You can say that I am a representative of the aforementioned impartial party that took over the role. If you would turn a page over-
Dick had dutifully turned the page.
-you’d see that we offer great compensation. In addition to your salary, you’ll receive health insurance, life insurance, death insurance, medical insurance, dental, vision care insurance, paid vacation time, overtime pay, paid time-off, flexible time-off, paid medical leave, free medical care, maternity leave, paternity leave, all other forms of parental leave, a good retirement package, loan assistance, wellness programmes, child care assistance, regular bonuses, promotions, raises, accommodation, a provident fund, and a whole host of other benefits that are clearly listed on the page. And of course at the end right there is our offered starting salary, which is highly negotiable up to the amount listed right below it. Please take as much time as you need to read through them.”
To say Dick had been overwhelmed was an understatement. He hadn’t thought that this was going to be an actual, honest to God job offer. If anything he just thought the entire job thing was an excuse or prelude to something much worse. But as he parsed through the file, getting increasingly bewildered as the man rattled on, he had to admit that this really looked like a weird recruitment effort. And then his eyes had fallen on the salary figure, and the amount to which it could be negotiated upwards, and he froze. Because even for the ex-ward of a billionaire, it was a ludicrous number. He couldn’t even accurately count the zeros on the thing. Even Wayne Enterprises wouldn't be able to match a deal like this. 
At that thought Dick had felt a pang of pain as he remembered Bruce still hadn’t called him, or even made an attempt at apologising. There were no texts, no missives. Just radio silence. The pain in his chest increased and Dick had felt the ever returning feeling of being unmoored. He pushed those feelings to the furthest corners of his mind. He had to focus now.
Feeling marginally calmer, he had taken a deep breath and closed the file. He looked up at Nightingale who had been watching him avidly over the rim of a coffee cup which definitely wasn’t there before, and asked the most pertinent question.
“Why me?”
And now they are here.
Dick scoffed at the white haired being’s answer. Oh he didn’t doubt that it was the truth. By now he had somehow come to an understanding of how this worked. It was fae rules. Meaning he had to watch his mouth. Similarly Nightingale won’t lie, but he can certainly obfuscate.After all withholding information wasn’t technically a lie, especially if it was masked with a half-truth. In other words, Nightingale hadn’t lied, but that wasn’t all there is to it. And Dick wasn’t going to let it slide. 
“How am I supposed to believe you to be a good employer if you’re already lying?”, he asked outright. You know, like a reckless fool.
Nightingale’s pleasant smile instantly froze, and then it gained an edge. A sharp, lethal edge.
“I don’t lie”, the man said, a cold cadence to his voice.
Dick could feel the figurative whetted blade on his throat, but he pressed forward. This was the first time he had taken blood in this fiasco and he wasn’t going to concede just like that.
“Lying by omission, is still lying.”
Nightingale’s entire mien darkened, and frost spread across the table. Dick didn’t back off. 
There was silence. Suffocating silence. And then the vergals receded and Nightingale sat back with a satisfied air. Dick blinked in surprise.
“Good. You didn’t cower.”
Dick sat back on his own chair, his breath fogging in the still cold air. “Was that a test?”
Nightingale took another sip of his coffee. Was it even coffee? It looked like coffee, but who knows what anything is in this bizarre space. Certainly not Dick.
“It was a test. The position of a courier in this part of existence requires mettle, and a strong mind. You would be dealing with beings ranging from the divine to the demonic. I’m sure you know they are a stubborn lot. You’ll have to stand up to them often. Plus you would be representing Us. We can’t have an unprincipled, craven fool take the job can we now? So I had to test you. Congratulations! You passed with flying colours.”
Dick glared at the man. “I still haven’t agreed to anything. And you still haven’t told me why I was chosen.” 
Nightingale chuckled. It was an unnatural, but pleasant sound. “Aah you caught that. Very well then.”
He clasped his hands together and put them on the table, bringing Dick’s attention to the black, razor sharp claws once again, as well as to the extremely ominous ring he wore on his left hand’s little finger.
“You were chosen because you are a multiversal constant. This job requires much interdimensional, interuniversal travel, and a multiversal constant is ideal for the role. And before you ask, a multiversal constant is essentially someone whose soul acts as a consistent axis across worlds through indelible aspects of their existence. They are rare, and their axial quality makes multiversal travel easy for them.”
The white haired entity’s eyes shone in the dim light. “You are a multiversal constant Nightjar. Centred around your potential, And also, I know you will agree to do the job. So I’m not worried.”
Even as he struggled to process what was just revealed, Dick found the energy to scowl at the impishly grinning man. “And how would you know? What’s in it for me? All I’m seeing is a job, the benefits of which, doesn’t make up for how dangerous it is.”
“But you will accept it nonetheless”, replied Nightingale with an amused air. “Think about it. You’ve been fired from Robin but still intend to continue being a vigilante, and vigilantism is expensive work. Now that you don’t have the Wayne coffers to pull from, you would have to find alternate means to acquire resources. You’re brilliant and I have no doubt you will find those resources and do spectacularly under your new mantle. But that would take time. And calling in favours that could either be used somewhere else, or make you indebted to someone. The salary this job provides you will allow you to finance your quest for justice, and still have plenty leftover. Not to mention the other benefits, such as the free medical care provided by Us, people who will never question your injuries the way a normal hospital might, or put your civilian identity at risk like a back alley doctor.”
Nightingale’s verdant eyes stared a hole through Dick as he spoke. “You wanted to get out of Batman’s shadow. This is your chance, Nightjar.”
The young vigilante had to give it to Nightingale. The man sure knew how to pitch an offer. He found himself agreeing to most of what Nightingale said, especially the finances part but he still wasn’t going to agree to a job that would put him in the crosshairs of gods and demons. That was just monumentally stupid.
“You make good points”, Dick said as he slid the file sitting idle on his side to Nightingale. “But I’m still not gonna agree.”
Nightingale slid the file back over to him without missing a bit.
“If I thought you were the type to easily capitulate I wouldn’t have approached you in the first place,” the man said, not a single sign of ire at Dick’s repeated refusal in his voice. In fact he seemed rather glad Dick was being difficult.
“You want to know more about being a multiversal constant correct? That is not the kind of information you’ll find lying around on earth.”
A pitch black claw scraped across the table, but there was no noise, and the deep scratch left behind instantly stitched itself back together, the tabletop pristine once more.
“By now you must have a rudimentary idea of the world you are being invited into. You would not have called yourself Nightjar otherwise. You also know that this is not a world Batman has access to.”
The man pointed opened his right palm, still resting on the table, and brilliant emerald fire blazed to life on it. Something in Dick’s lizard brain told him this fire ran cold rather than hot.
“Magic and everything associated with it is not something the Dark Knight can handle by his usual methods. And magic is just one of the aspects of our Realm. An infinite more mysteries keep it company. This world is yours for the taking. No mortal would be able to access what you can and you would be able to help so many people.”
Blue eyes met green.
“This will set you apart from Batman once and for all. An identity that no one can take away from you at their whim. Just think of this as your day job, as being a CEO is for Bruce Wayne.”
Nightingale clasped one of Dick’s hands resting on the table and transferred the fire over to it. Dick stared as the flame danced merrily in his palm. It really was cold. By the time he had his wits about him, the fire had vanished. Nightingale had seemingly finished his coffee, as the cup was nowhere to be seen. 
Dick glanced at the white haired man who watched him calmly. Then he took the file and started reading through it. If he was going to take this job, he was going to make sure to read the fine print. Out of the corner of his eye, he could spy Nightingale’s gleaming, triumphant smile. Dick couldn’t help but feel annoyed. 
He didn’t know how much time it took for him to read the file completely. Time ran strangely in this space. What he did know was there was an ornate, silver pen right next to him, which definitely wasn’t there before. He had to roll his eyes at Nightingale's antics. 
Nonetheless he uncapped it, admiring the craftsmanship for a moment, and signed on the dotted line in his Alfred approved best cursive, bells, whistles, hoops and all. 
Nothing happened. Dick felt kinda disappointed. He had thought signing a magical contract with a possible fae creature would be a little less anti-climactic. Across from him, Nightingale chuckled as if he could read his mind. Could he?
He slid the file over once more, this time for last. Nightintingale just skimmed through before sliding over an envelope. 
“Your appointment letter”.
“You had that ready?”
“Of course.”
Dick snorted inelegantly at that. Obviously the man had foreseen how this would go. That should make him more wary than what he was feeling, but just as he had known the fire was cold before, he knew Nightingale wouldn’t harm him. Bruce would call him an idiot for this kind of illogical thinking, but Bruce wasn’t here now was he?
He was about to shove another medley of complicated emotions down, when Nightingale reached over and viciously ran a claw down his right arm. Blood spurted in a gruesome display and Dick scrambled back, chair falling down, and his body hitting the surprisingly sturdy veil.
“What was that about?”, he shouted as he clutched his bleeding arm to his chest. Just when he had thought the man didn’t mean him any harm…
Nightingale had the audacity to look nonplussed. He simply brought his palms up as if to show he meant no harm, but it was a moot point when one of his claws was dripping with Dick’s blood.
“Just testing something”, the man said calmly.
“Testing what?’, Dick asked angry and confused.
In response, Nightingale simply pointed to his arm.
“What? Testing whether your claws could tear me apar-”
He stopped short. There, before his eyes, the flesh of his arm was knitting itself together. In mere moments, the wound was gone, not even a scar where it should be. Dick was reminded of the table from before. What just happened?
“What did you do to me?”, he asked, voice soft, and emotionless. 
“Don’t worry. It's your compensation. Part of your medical aid.”
He waved his hand, and the blood vanished. “Do sit down, Nightjar. Lets order something to eat.”
Robotically Dick walked to the table once more. The upturned chair was somehow rightened, already pulled out as if waiting for him.
“That was a healing factor”, he said rather than asked.
Nightingale nodded unbothered. “Yes, you’ll be needing that in your line of work.”
The veil opened and admitted a two-headed woman in, carrying trays of food in her four arms.
When she left, Nightingale eagerly took up his cutlery, looking excitedly at what looked like a luminescent crepe. He glanced at a shell-shocked Dick and frowned.
“Please eat. It's safe to consume, now that you’re one of us. If you’re worrying about your job, don’t. You have been assigned an excellent mentor in Harker. The White Grim will train you well.”
With that, he dug in, clearly enjoying his glowing crepe.
Dick just stared at the man, at his no longer injured arm, and sighed. Might as well eat. He hadn’t gotten to eat anything at the cafe and was beginning to feel hungry.
He scooped a spoonful from what seemed like an overly fancy bowl of cereal.
One of them huh?
He took a bite.
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nightfaeses · 1 year
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[ wip ] rendering time 🌓
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steampoweredwerehog · 10 months
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“Life’s been kicking my butt lately so I’m gonna try to take it eas—“ *makes another Guy*
This is Renn, a depressed forest ranger who realizes he’s managing an alter ego that apparently does magic & likes property damage.
Oh he’s on Artfight btw
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polybiuzz · 1 year
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