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ckret2 · 4 months

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Chapter 32 of human Bill is convinced he's the best prisoner ever and does not deserve this abuse from the Pines:

Bill gets his fingernails painted! 💅🌈✨ Look at his fingernails, I drew this week's picture just to show them off. They're fun.

Bill also gets bound to a magic poppet that can control his every move.

It's hilarious for Dipper and Mabel, but not for Bill.

The early morning still was broken by Stan's wails of despair.

At some point during the night, the egg-and-toilet-papering kids had come back to Stan's car.

And they'd brought rocks.

####

Bill woke up with a sheet tossed over him and a cupcake sitting on the window seat. The cupcake was pink with green frosting and decorated like a happy jack-o'-melon. It was sitting on top of a note:

"Sorry I didn't mention I had plans tonight! Robbie's mom made cupcakes for everyone so I grabbed you one. The music video's gonna be AMAZING! I'll show you when Robbie posts it!" Mabel had signed with a shooting star.

Bill decided he hadn't been mad at Mabel last night at all.

He battled gravity to heave himself vertical, trudged downstairs to the bathroom, stuck his face under the faucet until his mouth tasted less like sour sandpaper, agonizingly dragged himself back upstairs to his makeshift bed, and collapsed under the sheet to wait until his head stopped hammering.

####

Sprawled on the living room floor, Mabel said, "What should I draw?"

"Draw me." Bill was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, watching the news and nursing a glass of Mabel juice. In an effort to counteract the lingering queasiness from overdosing on sugar and chocolate, he'd spiked the juice with two ground-up Elderly 60+ Vitaman™ brand Man Vitamins (khaki flavor) stolen from a bottle that Ford had bought for Stan and that Stan forgot to take.

"Okay!" Mabel turned around and squinted up at Bill. "Strike a pose!"

"Not like this!" Bill shoved a hand in Mabel's face to force her to stop looking. "Draw me how I really look."

"Bill, that's illegal. Remember?" Mabel pointed at the TV. Bodacious T was reporting on a child who'd dressed up for Summerween as "that weird out-of-towner who bothered us last year, you know the one," and who, under the Never Mind All That Act, had been fined fifty pieces of candy. The child's mugshot showed his crying face, but blurred out his yellow costume.

"He'd be the coolest kid in town," Bill said, "if he wasn't such a crybaby in front of the cops. Draw me anyway."

"I don't wanna get arrested!"

"Do you see any cops?" Bill grinned. "Just don't sign your name, nobody will know it was you."

Mabel considered that. "I can sign it someone else's name." She pulled out a few crayons.

"That's what I'm talking about! Do anything you want forever and frame the innocent!"

"What do you want me to draw you doing?"

"The coolest thing you can think of."

Mabel considered that, and got to work.

The news was boring now. They were talking about the weather, and it wasn't even interesting weather. "So hey, you were gonna tell me about filming last night?"

"Oh yeah!" Mabel said. "Did I mention the part where the dead rose from their graves?"

Bill muted the TV. "And I missed it?"

Robbie had decided the cemetery at his place would be more atmospheric than the trick-or-treater-filled streets (and less likely to have their shots ruined by passersby that didn't appreciate the depth of Robbie's lyrics). It went great, until the vibrations of angsty rock-and-roll stirred the slumbering corpses and they clawed their way from their graves. It turned out Gravity Falls had been having off-and-on invasions of the undead for the past year, ever since somebody decided to reanimate every corpse in town for fun, Bill.

"You can't prove it was me, I'm not the only one who knows how to raise the dead!" Bill laughed. "Hey—you're not drawing this body, are you? You said you wouldn't."

"I'm not, I promise!"

"Then why do you keep staring at me?"

"Um."

"Let me see!"

"No! Don't ruin the surprise!" Mabel picked up a glitter pen with feathers glued to the end and waved them in Bill's face. "And no cheating with your eye-bleeding psychic magic!"

Bill smacked the pen away. "Fine! So what did you do with the zombies? Feed one of the teens to them?"

"No! I chewed like four packs of gum me and Dipper got from the weird homeless dentist and made a fake baby brain. We used it as bait to lead them into an open grave," Mabel said. "And then we realized we could use the brain to train them to do tricks! So now we have dancing zombies in the music video. They actually learned the choreography pretty easily."

"Makes sense," Bill said. "I did fill the space where their souls should be with an insatiable hunger to party."

Mabel grinned. "I thought you said they weren't your fault."

"If they're good at dancing, I'm taking credit!"

"They were pretty good—especially considering how many limbs they were missing," Mabel said. "I'll show you when Robbie's finished editing the video."

"And I'll get to see you playing a creepy ghost kid, right?"

"Yeah! We were the greatest ghosts ever! Check it out, we were like—" Mabel fixed Bill with a dead-eyed slack-jawed stare and whisper-sang, "'We're the things that you have lost. Childhood joy, dead as a ghost.'"

"Chills."

"Dipper tried so hard to get in character as a ghost that he completely zoned out for a minute! When we shook him out of it, he said he felt like he had an out-of-body experience!"

####

At his computer, Robbie clicked play on a clip of the twins standing side-by-side in front of the cemetery gate. As they sang the chorus, Dipper's face went still; and then a spectral gray form rose out of his head, still singing in sync with Mabel.

"Whoa," Robbie said. "Sick. I'm keeping that in."

####

"So, it turns out my bro is an expert method actor," Mabel boasted.

Bill thought back to Dipper drifting up and down the stairs in the middle of the night. "Yep. Sounds like he's got quite a talent."

Mabel set down her crayons and held out a paper. "Okay—what do you think?"

Bill accepted the drawing. "Am I riding on the back of a rocket ship?"

"Like a bucking bronco! See the rocket flames doing a loop?"

"Sure do. Why am I holding a fish bowl?"

"It's like a cowboy waving his hat, but, you're in space. So that's your astronaut helmet."

"It's beautiful," Bill said intensely. "It's the best thing I've ever seen."

"Aw, really? Thanks!"

"When I take over the universe, I'm rearranging the constellations to look like this."

"Don't do that, though."

"Fine, but I'm hanging it up in my throne room." Bill set down his empty glass so he could hold the picture with both hands, beaming at it as proudly as though he'd made it himself. Big change from his lukewarm reception of her house drawing yesterday. She should draw Bill more often. Being a good artist meant understanding what your audience wanted.

Unfortunately, now that she'd finished her drawing, she didn't have anything to distract her from staring at Bill. And she'd taken about as much of seeing him as she could stand. "Bill. I say this with non-judgmental love. But you look sooo terrible."

"Yeah, I know. I think I'm shaped about as nicely as a human could ask for," he pantomimed drawing a triangle in front of his torso, "but let's be real, there's only so much you can do when you're working with a human bone structure. And there's way too much neck—"

"No! Bill, your body is beautiful just the way it is, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I meant your hair looks awful."

Bill had taken a shower yesterday morning, emerged with his hair all wet and tangled, and done absolutely nothing to detangle it. And then, with it still half damp and totally disheveled, he'd shoved it under a cheap acrylic wig for the rest of the night. And then he'd fallen asleep on the floor still wearing the wig.

And now, with the wig removed, his hair looked like a bird had plucked out half a scarecrow's straw brains and made a nest out of it.

"It sure does," Bill said, with the slightly forlorn air of someone complaining about a war in a far-off country over which one had no power.

"So brush it!"

"No. Never. You can't make me."

"Why not? I thought you wanted to keep your hair all triangly!"

"Not enough to touch it. Either it'll figure out how to straighten out on its own or it won't, I'm not messing with it. I've got enough going on in my life today." By which he meant he had the last lingering traces of a hangover, which was a valid excuse to get out of all social, moral, and aesthetic obligations.

Mabel groaned in frustration. "I can't take looking at it anymore! If you won't brush it, can I?"

Bill gave her a skeptical look; but then he flung his hands out dismissively. "Sure, why not? If it bothers you so much. Have at it."

"I'll be right back!"

She got her brush from upstairs and a spray bottle from the kitchen, and directed Bill to sit on the floor so she could get on the couch behind him. After making such a fuss about brushing his hair, Bill was surprisingly well-behaved with somebody else brushing it for him. He didn't even complain when Mabel accidentally yanked on some nasty snarls a little harder than she meant to.

"I feel like a corpse getting prettied up for my funeral," Bill said. "Grooming each other is how humans bond, isn't it? This is one of your little social rituals? If all you wanted was to make sure we're still friends after you ditched me last night, you could have just asked."

Mabel shoved her foot between Bill's shoulder blades. Wise guy. She joked, "Yeah! We're bonding now! After this we're gonna paint each other's fingernails and talk about what kind of boys we like."

"I want rainbow spiral fingernails."

Mabel really should be used to this—but she still kept getting surprised that Bill was interested in the stuff she liked. And not even in a patronizing sure-I'll-play-along way. He'd turned to look at her. There was a gleam in his eyes. He really wanted rainbow spiral fingernails.

And now she wanted rainbow spiral fingernails, too. "Fine! But look forward until I finish your hair." One way or another, Mabel vowed, she would reform Bill into a proper good guy—even if she had to drag him there kicking and screaming. Fun dress-up partners were hard to find, and she couldn't afford to lose Bill.

####

Soos wandered to the living room to find somewhere to hang up his and Melody's "Best Couple Cosplay" award, but stopped in the doorway.

Bill, Mabel, and Waddles were sitting on the floor, watching some kind of cartoon psychedelic fairy princess lecture a spider on the importance of colors, with a bowl of popcorn between them. Bill and Mabel both had bright multicolor fingernails and were eating the popcorn with chopsticks to avoid touching their nails. There was more popcorn on the floor than in the bowl. Waddles had taken no such cares to avoid dragging his freshly painted hooves through the carpet.

"Truth or dare," Bill said.

"Dare!"

"Dare you to assassinate the..." Bill trailed off. "I can't have the mayor assassinated, he runs Rainbow Club. And the sheriff and deputy invited me... There aren't a lot of public officials in this dumb town, are there?"

"I'm not killing anybody, Bill. Truth."

"Fine, coward. What's your favorite toxic fume fragrance?"

"That's easy! Gasoline!"

"Hey, mine too! At least on this planet. It smells like—you know that smell that heralds the coming of rain? Gasoline is the smell that heralds a really fun time."

"Yeah! Like going on a road trip!"

Bill paused. "Right! I was... I was definitely thinking about road trips. That's exactly what I meant."

Mabel added, "And it looks so cool when there's a little bit spilled in a parking spot—"

"The rainbow puddles! Yes! Big fan of the rainbow puddles—"

"I love parking lot rainbow puddles! It's like surprise happiness in the most boring place on the planet!"

Soos mumbled, "Girl talk," decided to hang his award up later, and left.

####

Dipper heard the bedroom door open and Mabel call, "Hey Dipper!"

"Hey." He didn't look up from his journal, where he was documenting last night's zombie adventures. "Oh, hey, bad news—Wendy said she got a text from Robbie, it sounds like all the footage from the cemetery last night is ruined?"

"Aww! What? But we worked so hard to train those zombies!"

"Yeah, it's just static. But everything we shot outside the gates is fine. I wonder if it's something supernatural that interferes with electronics?"

"Something supernatural? In the cemetery? Full of zombies? What are the odds of that!" Mabel laughed. "But heyyy, I've got some good news!"

"What?"

Mabel stuck a hairbrush full of gold hair between Dipper's face and his journal. "I got a replacement for the Bill hair sample we gave Pacifica!" She grinned and whispered, "Wanna make a poppet?"

####

It would have been really cool if the first full moon of summer vacation had come on Summerween. But the calendar gods were unkind that year, and instead, it came the next day, on June 23.

Which worked out, in the end, since it meant they didn't have any scheduling conflicts on the one night they could make a poppet.

They had the ritual space set up in their bedroom—a chalk star drawn on the floor with a black candle at each point—and the doll representing Bill—which Mabel had upgraded with button eyes and a miniature version of his favorite knit hoodie. They collected all the shed blonde strands off Mabel's hairbrush, wrapped them around the doll's neck, and tied them on. They set the doll in the center of the star; Bartholomew talked them through the ritual; the flames on the candles leaped a foot in the air, turned a pale blue, and then went out; and the binding ritual was complete. The doll was now connected to Bill Cipher.

"Weird," Bartholomew said. "Usually the flames turn black. I've never seen them turn blue before."

Dipper said, "That's not a problem, is it?"

"No, no. I've just never used the binding ritual on an alien before! I guess it works a little different!"

Dipper picked up the doll and eyed it skeptically. "Mabel, I know we said we're saving this for emergencies only, but—maybe we should test it out just to make sure it actually works?"

"I guess we should," Mabel said, grimacing. "Just—don't do anything that'd hurt him. Okay?"

Yeah, Dipper should've expected that. Whether he liked it or not, Mabel didn't just see Bill as her weird experiment in criminal rehabilitation—she saw him as her friend. He sighed. "Okay. But is it fine if we do something that would embarrass him?"

Mabel shrugged. "I don't see why not!"

####

As they crept from their room, Mabel whispered, "What if we stick him in a box and shake it up? And then tell him there was an earthquake!"

"I thought you were the one who didn't want to hurt him."

"Oh right."

Bill wasn't on his cushions under the window, so they crept downstairs. Halfway down, Dipper stopped, putting a hand on Mabel's arm. Bill was sitting at the kitchen table, chin in his hand, staring out the window.

"This is perfect," he whispered. "He's completely vulnerable. He's got his back to us, he's looking at the moonlight—even if he turns around, he won't see us because his eyes will have to readjust to the dark."

"I don't know if his eyes need to adjust," Mabel said. "Have you ever noticed he never turns the lights on when he goes into a room?"

Dipper considered that. He hadn't noticed—but now that Mabel mentioned it, Bill did have a tendency to lurk in the dark. "Well—okay, but he's still not looking at us. Let's see how this works..." He studied the doll; then turned it around and gently brushed a finger through its yarn hair.

For a moment, nothing happened; and then Bill swatted at the back of his head and looked around, as if he was trying to find what had touched him.

"I think it's working," Dipper hissed.

"Are you sure? What if there's actually a fly in the kitchen?"

Could be. "Let me see if it can control him."

"Careful—"

Dipper grabbed one of the doll's arms and tentatively lifted it.

Bill's arm shot up. He stared at it in bafflement. "Wh...?"

Mabel bit her lip. Dipper waved the doll's arm.

Bill's arm waved. After a pause, he tentatively asked, "Hello?" As if he thought maybe his arm was waving at someone and he should play along with it.

Mabel and Dipper clapped their hands over their mouths, fighting to keep their giggles quiet. Mabel elbowed Dipper, "Hey Dipper Dipper Dipper, get him to stand up, let me control his legs, I have the best idea—"

Bill knocked over his chair and had to flail his arms for balance as he abruptly jerked to his feet. He looked around, eyes wide and wild, an edge of panic to his voice as he hollered, "WHAT'S GOING ON!"

Dipper held the doll out to Mabel. "Okay hurry!" Mabel took it by the legs—

—and Bill started doing the cancan. He shrieked. "WHAT?!"

Dipper shoved his shirt over his mouth to muffle his hysterics. Mabel was letting little wheezy squeaks out through her nose. Bill's voice was almost an octave higher as he screamed, "WHEN I FIND OUT WHO'S BEHIND THIS, I'M GONNA SHRED YOU—" and they both got so close to bursting laughing out loud that they had to pause to punch each other's shoulders for self control.

Still holding one of the doll's legs up, Mabel hissed, "Dipper do you remember the bottle dance. Where they crouch down with bottles on their heads. Can we—can we get a tiny bottle for the doll—"

Bill was failing both arms to avoid falling with one foot held in the air. He grabbed the counter for balance. And then, with a grunt of effort, he wrenched his foot down and stomped it to the ground.

The doll's leg yanked out of Mabel's hand.

Dipper and Mabel fell silent, staring at the doll. They looked at each other. Mabel whispered, "It shouldn't be able to do that, right?"

They looked at Bill.

Bill's face was burning red, and he was so far past fury that his expression was perfectly blank. His eyes were huge, and round, and pointed straight at them.

They bolted up the stairs.

Bill charged after them.

They screamed in terror. They weren't loud enough to drown out Bill: "WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU BRATS—"

Mabel grabbed Dipper's arm. "Dipper, do something!"

"Uhh—!" He tossed the doll in the air and caught it.

They heard an alarmed yelp as Bill was launched in the air and then a crash as he landed on the stairs again.

They scrambled into their room and slammed the door. "Safe!" Mabel said.

"Yeah," Dipper said, panting for breath. "Can't get us here."

The doll's head twisted 180 degrees to stare up at them.

They yelped. Dipper tossed the doll to Mabel. Mabel held it out at arm's length, threw it in her nightstand's drawer, and slammed it. It tried to open again and she leaned against it with her full body weight. "Dipper, the duct tape! In my craft supplies!"

"Which craft supplies?!"

The tiny knocking inside the drawer was echoed by the pounding at the door, accompanied by a string of creative death threats: "—and when I'm finished the coroner won't know which corpse was which! I'll make a belt out of your spinal columns—!"

"We didn't do anything," Mabel shouted, "it wasn't our fault!" She took the duct tape from Dipper and frantically wrapped it around the night stand. Dipper added, "It was someone else! And we'll never do it again—"

Sleepy and muffled, Soos's voice drifted through the door, "Dudes? What's all the hubbub?"

Dipper and Mabel gasped, "Soos!" "Save us!"

His voice the perfect tone of righteous indignation, Bill declared, "I'm being assaulted, that's what!"

Stan's voice joined in from downstairs: "BILL! If you don't leave those kids alone I'll cave your nose in!"

"THEY'RE THE AGGRESSORS," Bill screamed, half hysterical. "They are! I'm the victim here! I'm being victimized!"

Stan shouted, "Kids, good work! Bill, you can go to—" He grumbled as he self-censored, "—sleep! Shut up and go to sleep!"

"You can go jump in the bottomless pit, Stanley Pines! I'll tear you all apart with my teeth if I have to! NOBODY in this stupid junk heap of a shack is getting any sleep until I get my—"

From just outside the attic door, Stan roared, "BILL!"

There was a dull thud as Bill leaned against their door; a lot less shouty, he quickly said, "I'm going to bed, I'm going to bed, I'm going to bed."

"That's what I thought," Stan snapped. The kids heard his footsteps retreating downstairs. Soos said, "Um... night," and his door shut. After a moment, there was the creak of footsteps retreating from the attic door.

Dipper and Mabel slowly, softly snuck across the room to the door, and pressed their ears to the crack. No sound.

They stayed there for several minutes, barely breathing, listening to the silence.

Finally, Mabel pulled away and looked at Dipper. They both nodded, and Dipper opened the door a crack to check if the coast was clear.

Bill's eye stared in. "Hey, kids!"

They yelled. Dipper tried to slam the door; but Bill had already shoved his hand through. Fingernails painted with neon colors and black spirals clawed at the doorframe. He shouldered through the gap in the door, and then he was in the room, smiling much too wide and eyes fixed on them like helicopter spotlights on two wanted criminals. There was blood on his teeth. "Wow! Playing with poppets?"

Dipper upturned his suitcase and held it up like a shield. Mabel pointed a can of spray paint at Bill's face. Bill took a step closer and they took a step back.

"Pretty advanced trick for a couple of children your age," Bill said conversationally. "Not bad, not bad at all. Heck, I'm impressed you pulled it off! Although you didn't make a very smart choice of test subject." He stomped a foot twice.

Something in the nightstand thudded twice. The twins jumped. Bill laughed at them.

Mentally cursing himself for having flinched, Dipper straightened his back and glared at Bill. "You're just mad you got jerked around like a puppet! What's the matter, Bill—you can dish it but you can't take it?" Mabel looked at Dipper like he was crazy.

Bill's indulgent smile cracked, dropping into a snarl of rage. He shifted his weight toward them. Mabel dropped into a judo stance and Dipper sucked in a breath to shout for Stan.

Before anyone could launch a full attack, Mabel took a shaky breath in, forced a nervous smile, and said, "Bill, hey..." (His eyes snapped to her face like a predator that just heard a twig snap.) "This was—just a funny prank, and we're all cool? Right?"

"Mabel," Dipper muttered. "Shhh!"

But Mabel kept looking at Bill. "Right? Buddies?" She held up her arm, showing Bill her friendship bracelet.

Bill stopped and rocked back on his heels. He gave Mabel a long, hard look—like he was seriously considering whether to accept the reality she was inventing. "Yeah. Real funny." Smiling through grit teeth, he said, "You know—it's been a while since I've had my energy strung between two vessels. I didn't even know what that experience felt like for a human! Very interesting. Educational. And it was nice to feel weightless again for a second. Even if the landing was a little rough." He licked the blood off his teeth. One of the teeth shifted. "So—thanks so much for spicing up a boring night. It's been a real blast. Hasn't it." He stared at them like he expected an answer—and possibly like he planned to strangle whoever answered first.

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look. Dipper shook his head slightly. Mabel looked Bill in the eyes again. "Yeah! Big blast. So, you're not... mad. Right? Nobody's mad!"

Bill stared her down for a moment longer; and then said, "Sure, kid! It's all fun and games!" He forced a laugh—and then another, longer one, hahhh, like he was exhaling all his rage. And just like that, he was back to normal. "I'll admit it—for a second there, you almost got me good! Not bad at all." He held out his hand insistently. "And now the game's over, so you're gonna give me that toy so I can neutralize it. Aren't you?"

Dipper bit his lip, looking past Bill toward the stairs. He could yell for Stan; there was no way Bill could kill them before reinforcements got here—

Mabel elbowed Dipper's side and whispered, "We can't keep it."

And she was right. Now that Bill knew about the doll, he'd be spending all his time plotting how to get past them to take it, and they wouldn't have a second's peace. Either he got it now, or he got it later. Bill wouldn't rest until the doll was out of their hands.

Because he was terrified of it. Why wouldn't he be?

"Yeah," Dipper sighed. "Game over."

"I'll get it." Mabel peeled just enough duct tape off the night stand to wiggle it open a crack and try to squeeze her fingers in. Bill stretched his hand toward Mabel, and the doll stretched an arm out of the drawer. Mabel flinched in surprise, but grabbed the arm and yanked the doll free.

"Ow." Bill grabbed his shoulder and rolled it gingerly. "Careful, kid, are you trying to dislocate my arm? I don't mind popping it back in, but eventually that socket's gonna wear out."

"Sorry! It was a tight squeeze." She held the doll over Dipper's suitcase shield. "Here."

Bill snatched it from her hand. "Thanks a million, star girl." He favored them both with his most nearly-charming, far-too-wide smile. "Good night, kiddos. Have sweet dreams."

"You too," Mabel said weakly.

Bill left. Dipper shut the door. He and Mabel both heaved a sigh of relief.

From the loft over the attic, Bartholomew called, "Is he gone?"

"What are you doing up there?" Mabel asked. "Barty-mew-mew the scaredy-cat."

"I'm not fighting that guy, I'm porcelain and he's crazy."

Dipper flopped on his bed and stared at the ceiling. "Welp. I'm gonna have nightmares about Bill chasing me up the stairs."

Mabel sat on her own bed. "He just wanted to terrify us. And to keep us from seeing we'd terrified him." She fingered the star beads on her friendship bracelet. "He wouldn't have hurt us, I'm sure of it."

"Wh—seriously? You don't think Bill—"

"I know! But he's changed a tiny bit! He'd hurt anyone else, but he won't hurt us," Mabel said. "Or—well, me, at least. But I think he'll leave you alone too if I'm with you!"

Dipper pushed himself up on his elbows to look at her. "If he'd caught us on the stairs, do you really think he wouldn't have tried to tear us apart?"

Mabel considered that; and then reluctantly admitted, "He wouldn't hurt me as long as he remembers he doesn't want to hurt me."

"Yeah, well. I wouldn't count on him remembering when he's mad." Dipper slid under his covers and rolled over. "Barty, can you get the lights?"

"Sure, one second." All the lights and lamps in the room flickered ominously; and then, with a sinister pop, snapped off without being touched.

"Thanks, man."

Mabel didn't climb into bed. She was staring at her fingernails. She'd painted them the same colors as Bill's; but she'd used a black marker to draw spirals on his, and he'd drawn stars and sloppy tiger stripes on hers. In the dark, the colors were all faded.

This time, just once, maybe she and Dipper were the bad guys. He might disagree—he'd actually been puppeted, maybe he saw this differently from Mabel—but that probably didn't make it okay to do it back to Bill just for fun. They should've saved the poppet for an emergency. And the cancan, she decided, was definitely too much.

She smoothed out her covers; then she pulled up her knees to her chest, hugged them, and stared thoughtfully down at Bill's face in the middle of her zodiac blanket.

####

In the dark and quiet of the downstairs bathroom, Bill sat cross-legged on the toilet lid. He held the doll in his cupped hands. Soon, he'd disassemble it—but not yet. Tonight, it was his tool. He shut his eyes and focused on it.

There was the thinnest thread of energy, channeled through his shed hair, connecting this doll to him. He studied the thread, feeling it in his mind, exploring it, strengthening it—until he could almost feel it tugging on him.

And then he started psychically groping for similar connections.

He set the doll on the floor, on top of the drawing Mabel had given him.

His other eyes—the billions of depictions of his face scattered across this planet—weren't meant to be used in this dimension. They were designed like windows he could peer through from the Nightmare Realm; here on Earth, he was on the wrong side of the windows to see through them. And he wouldn't be surprised if the Axolotl had somehow found a way to blindfold them on top of that—after all, he seemed to have done the same to most of Bill's other abilities.

But Bill was resourceful, he was stubborn, and he didn't have anything better to do.

He focused all his energy on trying to feel the drawing the same way he felt the doll, searching for a connection between this body and that face—and he searched, and searched, and searched.

He wasn't sure how long he tried. At least a couple of hours. Straining, straining—for nothing. His head hurt.

What was the difference? The doll was shaped like him, the drawing was shaped like him. What did the doll have that the drawing didn't?

The hair. A bit of his flesh.

Bill knelt over the picture, studying it in the dark. He opened an eye wide, wiped a fingertip across the surface of his eyeball to collect his tears, and pressed it to the drawing's eye.

He could feel a thread of energy stringing from his eye to the paper.

He climbed back on the toilet lid, shut his eyes, and focused on that thread. With an effort that threatened to split his head in two, he pried open his inner eye. And then he was staring up at his own human form from the drawing on the floor.

His body was shaking. His head was throbbing. He wobbled dizzily on the toilet; and as he saw himself topple off, his trance broke, the vision disappeared, and he blacked out. White spots burst behind his eyes.

When he next opened an eye, the room was spinning. He shut his eye. It was several minutes before he could sit up without being sick. He leaned against the wall and let the sweat on his forehead and cheek soak the old wallpaper.

The white spots he'd seen as he passed out were his distant all-seeing eyes.

He'd done something tonight. That was good. But there was no way he was seeing through any other pictures like that. He needed something he could focus his power through, like an antenna.

He needed gold.

####

(Last chapter of the year!! If you enjoyed, I'd love to hear y'all's thoughts & comments! Thanks!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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hoeforhao · 8 months

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🏷 Kidult ▪︎ Choi Seungcheol Fic ▪︎ pt.3

↷ pairing: dad!seungcheol × fem!reader (feat!jeonghan)

↷ genre: smut with zero to no plot, just a bonus stand alone sort of to the angsty previous parts.

↷ warnings: MINORS DNI!!!!explicit language, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving ), mostly fem pleasuring, thigh kink?creampie, breeding kink, biting and marking, slightly bratty seungcheol, lots of name calling. Tell me if i missed any!

↷ summary: what happens when your husband finally caves in to his mistakes and gives you an unforgettable night as an apology.

↷ part: 3/4 pt.1, pt.2, pt.4

↷ w.c: 2.3k (how can just smut be this long lord)

↷ author's note: last part finally lord yayyy!!! after much procrastination it's here at last. I suck at writing smut and specially breeding kink, so pls bear with me♡

Permanent taglist : @feat-sun @joonsytip @dinonuguaegi

If your two day old self saw you now squished under seungcheol's bulk figure, his veiny hard length pumping restlessly around your soft pink walls while his head rested in the crook of your neck,his sweaty forehead rubbing against your collarbones and his small wet stubby nose grazing against the back of your earlobes.....she would've definitely thought it's a severe case of fever dreams!

"You're my wife y/n and even...even more the bane of my existence, you...you can look at me as long....as long as you want baby" cheol's mouth reverbed against the length of your jaw, imprinting his very own mastered piece of red and purple marks onto any exposed face of your honey skin.

"Cheollie" your gentle dovish coo brings out cheol from the nest of your shoulders and instead lands his dewy melon eyes onto your sultry cat ones.

His ears were refusing to believe what was entitled upon them.....you called him 'cheollie', the very name you used to call him everytime before he fucked up the things with you, the one you cried out while holding onto his hands with your entire life as you gave birth to the daylight of his life, and that exact same name you used to moan under him while he pumped his juices deep inside your womb.

"Can, you, keep, on, calling, me, that, throughout, the, entire, night, today, pls, love?" with each word leaving his mouth, his lips left a following kiss on your face, the last one landing on your forehead.

"You don't know how much I've missed hearing you call me Cheollie, how I've missed your little giggles these days, your cresent smile, those round cheeks pooffing up whenever you become sulky - my second adorable child!" Seungcheol's hands now traveling up your waist through over your dress, the cold metal rings drawing in a sensation you forgot you even had the ability to feel, and finally resting on the bow that was the only lock to the mystical city beneath.

"But most of all, you know what I missed?" bringing up his face from the enchanting sweat of your skin, his eyes now bore their venom into yours, hands still wrapped around your torso. "The taste of this pretty little body of yours"

Even before you could flash him with the red of your cheeks, cheol's hands shift from your back to your hips, landing a tight squeeze on the right one to let you know what your next step is going to be; and as an absolutely obedient wife you quickly catch onto his signals and push up a little to wrap your thighs around his tiny midriff.

Seungcheol walks back with you clutched onto his body like a koala, lips never leaving yours swollen ones as his legs finally hit the footboard of the queen bed.

Twirling on his feet and placing you down upon the satin sheets, oh so carefully as his you were the one last piece of Lorenzo's sculptures; something he can never afford to even tolerate a scratch on; cheol dropped himself on his knees against the velvety red rugs, hands now fixated onto your bare thighs.

"A man is said to be the lucky when his lady has thighs as thick as the towers on a monument" his lips now land onto the soft jiggly mass of your upper legs, hands slowly creeping up towards the boundaries of your panties. "And me? I'm the luckiest to have these supple smooth brawns all to myself"

"Che...cheol ahh fu-" a sharp sting grazes the heat of your skin as seungcheol bites down onto a small mound of your inner things.

"What did I say darling? Didn't i tell you to call me Cheollie, huh? Do you want that slutty cunt of yours to go unattended tonight then princess!" his words make the awaiting river in your pussy finally run free down its source.

"S-sorry cheollie, but ple..please touch me already, I can't take it anymore" your own lewd words were ringing in your ears, making those rosy cheeks become rosier by the time.

"Touch where baby? I need clear words" cheol's mouth is now dangerously close to your throbbing core, while your thighs are left stained with all shades of purple and blue.

"At...at my...ummm...you know" it wasn't your first time having sex with him after childbirth, but it was definitely the first time of him catering to your pleasures and edging you to the brink, which thus made you swallow your words down your throat again.

"Hmm?" another attack from seungcheol finds its targets on you, but this time along the linen of your already wet panties, as his teeth sharply grazed against your clothed clit.

"Fuck it! I need you to touch my pussy please cheollie, it's literally aching at this point!!!" you were never a woman of prolonged patience and that showed up quite well when you brought one of your hands from the sheets to pull onto cheol's freshly smoothed locks....the other staying back to support your arched up back onto the bed.

"That's like my girl, so horny for her man's touch!" seungcheol's hands finally find the hem of your panties, pulling them down your knees meanwhile prepping his fingers to dive right into cunt.

Teasing your sloppy folds with the tip of his slightly outgrown nails, driving you literally nuts from the painful pleasure running throughout the entire length of your sweet petals, the grip on seungcheol's hair getting tighter with every

You were brought out of the lecherous utopia with the sudden contact of a pair of soft silken lips onto the wet ones of yours. To your utter disbelief, cheol was now sucking down on your cunt, something he has done only once, on your wedding night.

"Cheol....Cheollie, what are you-" a finger coated in your slick lands on your ever so talkative pair of crescent flesh.

"Ssshh y/n! You don't know how much I've craved to have the taste of your juices on my tongue!" seungcheol was a secret master of giving oral and now you were brought to acquaint that fact as his tongue worked wonders on your clit, flicking it like it was some piece of food particle stuck in his mouth. With his every suck onto your pussy, your grip of cheol's hair kept tightening to the near extent of pulling the roots out of his scalp.....but he was too drowned in your wetness to even pay heed to his own pain.

"Cheollie I...I am nea...shit" you flooded up his face cavities with your warm discharge, completely unannounced. As cheol slowly brought up his face from the home of your pussy, your eyes got hooked onto the absolute beauty infront of you.

Your husband's face painted finely with your white secretes , a proud smirk creeping up his cum stained lips seeing how insane he's already driven you just with his mouth alone, your skin glowing like a firefly from witnessing your slick is dripping down his chin down to his lap.

"That spawn of devil bestfriend of yours can surely bring a smile on your lips, but bet he can ever see this pleasure stricken face of yours!!! It's only mine to view and only mine to keep. My pretty little slut, aren't you love?!" cheol finally gets up from the floor only to throw himself onto you, his lips entwining with yours for the umpteenth time. But this time there was a kick to the usual hungry approach.

He bites onto your lips, forcing them open just so that he can make you taste your own sweet nectar on your tongue, realise how heavenly your insides taste, why he was driven crazy to devour your cunt you after two years.

"You know even the flowers would wither away from jealousy if they get to know that their honey is nothing compared to yours" seungcheol's hands now playing with the bow of your dress, lips never leaving yours. "But alas they'll never. Cuz I'll be the only one to know how sweet my lady tastes"

"Cheollie I feel empty...i want it now please". From the moment cheol layed down his entire weight on you, you could feel his strained bulge against your stomach, hands finding an excuse to palm them at least once. So as to fuel in your cravings, you tug onto the back of his head to pull him up from your lips and fix his gaze onto your pleading kitten eyes.

"Want what baby?" seungcheol absolutely knew what he was doing, pushing you towards the edge of the cliff only to hear you begging for him or more appropriately his dick . How could you even think that he didn't notice your hand ghosting over the tent in his pants.

"This? Is this what my princess wants?" he takes your hands in his and brings them towards his crotch to finally rest them on this clothed dick.

"Y-yes please. Can't wait" you whimper under him, hands impatiently rubbing circles on his hardness until they're swished away by his, just so that he could finally bring out his aching length to the spotlight.

"This desperate for me honey? Guess I've no other options than to mend to my sweet wife's needs" the smug visible wide on his face as cheol lines up his dick infront of your hole, hands traveling up your torso to undo the bow of the dress and let it fall aside freely; your tanned glazed body now completely bare to his eyes.

"Ready love?" how you wish you could capture the exact moment cheol's eyes turned from all teasing to so soft, asking for your consent to go in, and then turning hungry again when you give an ok nod at him.

Even after being almost moulded into the shape of his cock, your pussy still clenched like shit around his length, as if trying to suck out the last drop of life from his genitals.

"Taking me in so well baby, so fuckin tight" cheol groans between thrusts, feeling your walls close up onto his dick ; hands now playing with your breasts, kneading the supple flesh like a dough with occasional twists of your nipple between his fingers. "Fucked by me so many times yet still not perfectly framed for my cock"

"Guess I've to now leave my dick curved hole into your womb for you to harbor it easy from the next time, or" his eyes light up at the sudden mischievous thought. "Or even better, fill you up with a child so that my imprint is left in there forever, so that i can see you now enjoying your lost childhood with two of my seedlings, so that we can finally change Hana's name after making her an older sister, what say love?"

Your cheeks heat up at his comment. The sheer sight of you carrying his second child, birthing again and giving Hana a sibling just instantly feels you up with pure delight and content.

Your shy little smile and that dreamy expression on your face was enough fuel for cheol to start pumping into you at his maximum pace, putting the bed at a risk of collapsing down under the intense action.

"Gonna look as heavenly as the dawn angel with my child swelling in your belly and as sultry as the night siren with my cum filling up your dirty little hole" maybe it was his words or his high thrusts that you were now close to your second orgasm of the night.

"Am gonna cum cheollie" you look up at him with the most endearing eyes one can ever witness, even in such a lewd position.

"Cum for me baby, cum on my cock, show me how good your husband makes you feel" he picks up his pace again anticipating his own climax soon.

"F..fu-fuck ahh" and with that one last thrust both of you come undone on the cream satin sheets, the thought of paying for the damages next morning never bothering the two as seungcheol was a literal walking atm.

Seungcheol's eyes stay fixed onto your legs at the sight of his cum filling up your gole to the brim and leaking down your marked up thighs. He pushes himself in you for the last few times, making sure to nestle his precious seeds deep inside your womb.

"Couldn't let even a drop of it go to waste, right?" his face paints itself with a victorious smirk as he finally pulls out of you and plops down on the bed by your side ; arms locking you in his embrace as tight as possible while his sweat stained forehead rests on the crater of your shoulders.

"Y-you won't change back again na cheollie?" the post sex doubts hit you and you're now curled up like a ball along his abs, hands gripping onto his with your entire life.

"I know I've fucked up bad y/n and no words of assurance can heal it so soon, but please let me show you through actions now, that how much both of you mean to me. You two are the literal gems of my life love, my most beautiful princesses." cheol gently releases his palms from your hold and places them on the back of your head instead, circling soft gentle pats onto your silky cascades, like a parent comforting their child.

His eyes feebly shoot up to see why you aren't replying, only to find you snoring like a kid in his warmth.

"My cute little kiddo. I will give my everything to protect this family y/n" and with that he places a soft kiss on your forehead before drifting off to his own slumber.

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pastshadows · 13 days

Text

Shadows of the Past

Chapter 12: Growth

Summary: Astarion remained a spawn after ending the reign of Cazador with your help. After defeating the Netherbrain, you and Astarion stay together, moving forward with your lives. You reside in a small house in the city. One night, after an awkward and concerning interaction with him, he disappears without a trace.

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 6.5K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.]

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [Implied/attempted sexual assault: Chapter 7]. Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions. Panic attacks. Anxiety.

You stare into the pale Elf’s vibrantly red eyes as he holds the razor-sharp edge of his dagger against your neck, which he seems to be looking at rather too ardently for your liking. You frown at him, struggling against his hold on you. He’s stronger than he appears at first glance. You knew this man was bad news as soon as you laid eyes on him. You’ll never be able to comprehend why you thought it was a lovely idea to turn your back on this stranger and walk away.

Perhaps you can blame it on being tired, having a worm thrust into your eye socket, falling out of the sky, or your head injury that smarts fierce and unforgivingly under the baking heat of the noonday sun.

You’re about to burn him to a crisp for this attack, but as you gaze into those eyes, your soul sparks with recognition you can’t place. You know this man, somehow, but you’re sure you’ve never seen him before.

The way he leers at you almost makes you giggle. “And now you’re going to tell me exactly what you and those tentacled freaks did to me.”

Fear. You can see it plainly, hidden behind this facade of confidence. Your arm holds the dagger's tip steady as the steel kisses your neck. Keeping your voice as balanced as you can, you retort, “You have it backwards - they took me prisoner, just like you.”

“Don’t lie to me. I - agh.”

Your mind twists. Gods. The squirming behind your eye is beyond uncomfortable as it moves your brain matter around. You close your eyes and surrender to the sensation. It seems like the only option lest whatever is wiggling might break open your skull like a melon. A vision is steadily anthropomorphized. You’re looking out of unfamiliar eyes, prowling dark, busy streets. You try to hold onto the memory, but it fades, and you’re left with the light and a potent fear that makes your stomach churn.

“What was that?” The pale Elf stares at you with a suspicious glower. The tenor of his voice increases. You recognize distress when you hear it. You better proceed carefully, or you’re going to wind up with a blade in your windpipe, ”What’s going on?”

Well, there’s no point in lying. Is there?

“It’s the mind flayer’s worm - it connected us."

His grip on you eases as he draws the pointed tip of the dagger away. You think about asking him if he recognizes you or if you’ve met before, but there’s nothing in his demeanour to indicate such. Have you hit your head far worse than you thought, and it’s scrambled your brain like an egg?

“You’re not one of them. They took you, just the same as me.” His scowl eases and becomes… artificial amusement? Real amusement? This man is decidedly hard to read. “And to think I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards. Apologies.”

Apologies? Apologies?! Is that really all he has to offer you after he dragged you to the ground with a godsdamned dagger? He’s lucky you didn’t hail fire from the fucking sky! Gods. You want to punch him in his pointy, pale, beautiful face.

Well, I was contemplating burning him to death.

“Apology accepted.” You hiss at him, dusting off your robe. There’s sand in your mouth, gritty against your teeth. It makes you want to punch him all the more, “I might have done the same if roles were reversed.”

He chuckles at your taunting, “Ah, a kindred spirit.” He leers at you with a haughty glower, “My name’s Astarion. I was in Baldur's Gate when those beasts snatched me.”

The streets were familiar as the vision played out behind your eyelids. If the glimpse wasn’t enough to convince you that he’s telling the truth about his origins, his accent does.

“I’m a Baldurian as well,” you glower back at him, meeting his arrogance with your own.

“Is that so? We clearly move in different circles.” You roll your eyes at his pompous intonation. “So, do you know anything about these worms?”

“Yes, unfortunately.” You hesitate but decide truth is the best course of action. He might as well know what he’s up against, “They’ll turn us into mind flayers.”

“Turn us into - ha. Hahaha!” You jolt at his mordant laughter like a giggle at a funeral. There’s such a deep sadness woven between the facade cracking. “Of course, it’ll turn me into a monster. What else did I expect?”

Your heated palms itch. Not with the draconic fire that squirms underneath the thin skin, but to reach out to him, to comfort this total stranger who has been nothing but a pain in your ass since you met him moments ago. So, why do you desperately want to hug him?

What in the Hells is wrong with me? Good Gods.

He continues with an abstract hopefulness, “Although it hasn’t happened yet. If we can find an expert - someone that can control these things - there might still be time.”

“Control it?” You scoff and quirk a brow, shaking your head. Control the worm? No. You need to fucking expel it immediately! You lean forward and resist the urge to poke his chest, which you are currently trying to imagine without that lovely doublet. You shake your head again, trying to rid yourself of your thoughts, “We need to get rid of it!”

“Well yes, of course,” he drawls as if you’re an idiot. With the way you’re acting and thinking, you begin to wonder if your head wound is worse than you thought, “But first things first.”

“You should travel with me.” The words are blundering out of your mouth before you have time to consider what you’re asking. He’s already been enough trouble, and you’re requesting more, but maybe, if you’re lucky, you will see him shirtless… Fuck! What in the Hells is wrong with you? You clear your throat, “Our odds are better together.”

“You know, I was ready to go this alone, but maybe sticking with the herd isn’t such a bad idea.” Astarion, this pale Elf you don’t know but somehow recognize, sizes you up as you frown at him, “And you seem like a useful person to know. All right,” he bows shallowly, “I accept, lead on.”

A useful person to know?

Ah. Yes. Of course. He’s one of those. He does not see you as another living being. No. You know his kind well. He sees you as a tool he can use to implement his liberation from your new friend who’s currently in a competition with your brain matter for space in your skull.

You walk a couple of steps before your outrage gets the best of you, and you whirl on him, fire in your palm and the Weave aglow in your eyes, “You said your name was Astarion, correct?”

“Yes,” his hand moves toward the dagger’s hilt at his hip. “That’s correct.”

“Don’t make any sudden moves, Astarion,” you snarl and toss Firebolt as close to his toes as you can without burning him.

“Ah,” he puts his hands up in an innocent gesture. You’re sure it’s merely a placation so that you let your guard down. His voice is as smooth as butter and warm as daylight, “I think perhaps we got off on the wrong foot, yes? I apologized. What more do you want? I’m all out of wine and chocolates - I’m afraid.”

“Listen closely, Rogue,” you try to hide the insecurity you’re feeling behind an illusion of poise. “If you ever put another knife to my throat, if I have even a suspicion you might, I will reduce you to dust.”

“Oh, sorceress,” Astarion smirks, cavalier and handsome, “I would love to see you try, you brute. I don’t fancy your chances. I know a thousand ways to kill you before you can so much as utter an incantation, but I digress. You’re welcome to try, of course. You’ll find I am particularly hard to kill.”

You scoff, holding your hand in his view as fire edges over your fingers, up your arm, and back before petering out. “Who said anything about incantations? I hope you’re as good with that blade as you seem to think you are.”

“I assure you, I am. I’ve had more practice than you can possibly imagine,” he turns his nose up, puffing his chest out in bravado that makes you want to deflate that cocksure attitude.

You roll your eyes, stalking away toward the wreckage. You need to find supplies, coin, food-

“Ah-ah, sorceress!” Astarion chimes behind you with a jeering lilt that makes you close your eyes and curse under your breath as your patience wears incredibly thin.

Gods, give me strength.

“What?”

“Hells. You’re a snappy one. Are you always this rude?” He quips. “Do you have a name, or shall I just continue calling you sorceress, brute, shrew….”

“SHREW?!” You cut him off, trying very hard to hide your amusement but finally relenting and dissolving into raving laughter.

“I fail to see what’s so funny,” he peers around, crossing his arms, jutting a hip out. He’s obviously not accustomed to his jeers being scorned, but you’re not some soft-hearted juvenile.

“If you mean to upset me,” you giggle as he glares disdainfully, “you will have to try much harder than that. Until you can come up with a worthwhile slight, you may call me Kamena.”

“Kamena…” Something flashes in Astarion’s ruby-red eyes, dazzling and animated in the sunlight. His lips rap together as if he’s sampling how your name feels on his tongue. He shakes his head, sweeping the perplexity furrowing his brow away, “I would say it’s been a pleasure to meet you, but I would be lying. Now, if you’re quite done threatening me, may I suggest we get a move on?”

The spoon in your hand idly churns the thick, pasty curds of the cold porridge that was supposed to be your breakfast. You stare, disconnected and disgusted by the thought of consuming any form of nourishment despite the grumbles in your stomach indicating that you’re hungry. You slump in the chair, pushing the bowl away from you with a grimace. Your appetite is insufficient, and you can’t conjure the will to shove a spoonful of the algid, viscus goop into your mouth.

Days have turned into anxious nights with naught a syllable uttered between you and Astarion. Your heart is heavy in your chest with longing and uncertainty. He doesn’t come out of his room during the day and leaves late at night when he thinks you’ve fallen into your trance. Your nightmares have returned with a savage vengeance now that Astarion is no longer there to wake you from them before they start to escalate. Dark, puffy bags are beginning to extend under your eyes as you avoid slipping into your trance night after hopeless night. Your head spins misery like a web around your last interaction.

Perhaps I should have kept my feelings to myself.

“Sorceress,” Tara grumbles by your side, but you’re so tired her voice is forgotten as soon as it whispers over your ears. “Kamena!” She asserts more stridently, jolting you awake.

“What?” You snap at her, digging your fingernails into the table.

“You look weary,” Tara purrs soothingly. “What troubles you?”

“I did it,” you whisper, trying to swallow the heavy shadow of your heart constricting your throat. “I told Astarion how I felt. He has not spoken to me since.”

“I see,” she considers your words and then smirks as much as her little nose will allow. “So, now he is being the idiot.”

Even with tears welling in your eyes, seeping from the corners, mutinying your control, you laugh, “I suppose you could say that.”

“Did the vampire tell you he did not feel the same?” She looks at you softly with those green eyes that hold the wisdom of a sage in their depths.

“No. Nothing like that,” you say with a tremoring voice and shake your head. “He requested I give him space.”

“And this troubles you,” she cocks her head, “this request for solace?”

“No,” you try to find the words to explain your melancholy. “No, it’s not the space. I can give him that. It’s the avoidance. The silence. He is usually so hard to shut up.” You give a meek laugh and let your head drop into your hands. “I will never get this right, will I?”

“Come, idiot,” she tilts her head toward the door. “Take a walk with me, will you?”

Tara half flies, half-scampers beside you, leading you deep into the forest. Golden sunlight flickers gently through the canopy. A brisk wind shakes the withering leaves from the trees, and they float down around you in a shower of oranges, reds and yellows. She leads you into a small alcove. Her wings flutter as she lands, stretches and settles them.

“What are we doing out here, Tara?”

“Pick a tree and make it fall.” Tara’s eyes glimmer as bold and keen as a hawk. “It matters not how.”

The request is odd, even for her. You can’t begin to fathom why in the world she would drag your sleepless, sapped self out here to simply fell a tree. You grasp the Weave and let the peaceful force thread through your muscles, giving them a pleasant buzzing tingle that starts in your toes and gambles up your spine. The incantation rolls off your tongue like poetry and the electric blue of lightening hisses as the current churns around your fingers. Picking a tree far from you or Tara, the bolt strikes true right at the base with a resounding, echoing boom that causes birds to flit away from the high boughs.

Tara shakes off the splinters of timber your grand display deposited on her fur. “Did it make a sound, sorceress?”

“Are you deaf?” You scoff. Your ears are still ringing from the blast, “Yes, of course, it made a sound.”

“When a tree falls, it tells the forest the tale of its demise, yet its seeds will grow in silence,” she says softly like a purring lullaby. “Growth and creation are often quiet. Even in this silence, you and the vampire are still growing.”

Oh, Hells. This godsdamn cat.

Shit. Tressym.

Astarion sits in the dimly lit confines of his room with his head in his hands and fingers curled in his hair. Turmoil surges within him as long-dormant fears roil, unravelling a tapestry of overwhelming emotion. He scolds himself with a scoff. He’s being a fucking fool, but those catacombs of pain and darkness have once again cast their baleful spell on him. Old insecurities he thought he had conquered paralyze him.

Cazador’s words often float through the darkness in his room. Will he ever stop hearing his voice? How many years will it take for it to fade away, lost to time like the colour of his eyes?

“You are nothing but an insignificant little insect, my boy.”

"You are no one. A monster, a fiend, a creature that can never be loved.”

“You are an abomination, unworthy of affection or compassion.”

It’s not an easy thing to untangle the web that Cazador wove. There are so many knots, snares and tangles that he keeps getting caught on. He feels trapped in this bloody prison of his own making, bound by the chains of his past. Fear has become his warden, prattling doubts that feed on his shattered self, holding him captive. Why can he not leave these things behind? Why do they keep cropping up to plague him?

Gods. He yearns for her touch, the warmth of her embrace to melt away the ice that has solidified in his veins, but shadows loom over him like monstrous spectres, threatening to extinguish any hope of happiness.

He heard the snarky feline call him an idiot today, and he’s loathe to admit it, but she’s right. Two hundred years of being surrounded by lover after lover, victim after victim, and never did he feel any real connection. Not until he met her.

“You look dreadful in that colour, sorceress.” He tuts, clicking his tongue. “That robe is quite unsightly. It leaves much to be desired.”

“It’s a good thing that you already desire me so much then,” she turns, walking backward and taunts. “Perhaps this will stop you from drooling over me like a lovesick pup.”

“I do not drool!” He scoffs.

“You’re drooling over my very delectable neck right now.” She grins, caressing her buttery skin. She does have a very lovely, biteable neck. He would not mind another nibble.

“Gods. You wish.” He crosses his arms, glowering at her presumptuousness. “No one will drool over you if you keep wearing that.”

“I think Gale finds this robe particularly attractive,” she giggles, twirling to showcase the horror show of a garment.

He attempts to remain impassive and emotionless, but a scowl devours his features nonetheless. The wizard has been all over her since she pulled him out of that damned portal. He hoped that Gale might be deterred after their little late-night tryst. It didn’t seem to dissuade him any. He should not even care if she finds herself in the arms of another. Yet, the more he witnesses Gale, Wyll, Hells, even the Gith, ogling her, flirting with her, giving her those amorous looks and suggestive comments, the more it simply rubs him the wrong way. He cannot quite comprehend why. He’s never been a jealous man before. He tells himself it’s because they might ruin his “simple plan” if they gain her affections.

“That’s not a good thing, darling. Do you see that purple curtain he’s wearing?” he snorts, grimacing.

“Need I remind you that you were also wearing purple when we met?”

“Yes, but it looks decidedly fabulous on me,” he retorts. “You look like you're wearing a burlap sack.”

“Oh,” she brings a finger to her lips and cocks her head in an adorable fashion. “Now, that’s a great idea. I shall adorn a sack on our next outing for your viewing pleasure since you seem so utterly invested in my outfits.”

“Hells below.” He grumbles. She likely will do it to get a rise out of him. “By all means, embarrass yourself further. I care not. Just have the decency to leave me at camp so I don’t have to be seen with you.”

“You know what?” She giggles, her face crinkling with the delight of teasing him. “I’ll just take it off right now. Will that shut you up, or will I have to rescue you from drowning in a puddle of your own saliva?”

“First, I cannot drown. I do not need to breathe.” He huffs, sticking his nose in the air. “Second. I do not drool. Third. I’m calling your bluff. Surely, you would not disrobe right in the middle of the road.”

“Hmm.” She ponders with her eyes cast skyward, twinkling in the fading light. A mischievous glower splits her lips, “Challenge accepted.”

“What?”

She laughs as her fingers unlace the ties on her hideous robe. His mouth drops open. Surely, she will stop. Even if she doesn’t, surely, she’s wearing something more than her undergarments under that.

Right?

…. Right?!

It falls open as she fiddles with the last couple of ties, and he’s glad she’s not looking at him because his eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. She is decidedly not wearing anything other than her undergarments, and fuck, she is not stopping. He swallows thickly. She is a sight to behold, but good Gods, he does not want anyone else to behold it!

She chuckles and throws the robe over her shoulders, letting it drop to the dusty ground in a puddle around her feet and saunters off with a provocative sway of her hips. It takes him a moment to regain his poise as she strolls down the road in nothing but her underclothes and tall boots.

“What are you doing?” He grabs her robe off the ground, shaking it off and jogging to her. “Are you out of your mind? There are Goblins, Gnolls, and, ugh, Gnomes, roaming all over these parts.”

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I am not shy, hm?” She laughs lightheartedly. “You’re gawking, Astarion.” She leans in close, swiping a thumb over the corners of his mouth, “And drooling.”

He swallows. He might be drooling a little, but he will never admit it.

“You, my dear, are intolerable sometimes.” He smirks. This woman is full of surprises. “Now, get dressed before I hold you down and redress you forcibly.”

“No, darling,” she tuts, mocking him and poking his chest. She purses her lips, glowering defiantly at him, “I don’t believe I will.”

“I will do it, sorceress,” he asserts with a low growl. “Do not tempt me.”

She giggles and takes off in a sprint through the trees. She calls back over her shoulder, “Consider yourself tempted, rogue.”

Day bleeds into nightfall, and you sit with your back pressed against the headboard of your bed, resting your chin on your knees as you make the fire transform into various shapes. Your ears seemingly twitch with every tick, tick, tick of the clock, which is maddening as it seems to mock every second spent without Astarion. You’ve considered breaking it several times, and tonight may be the night it meets its fiery end. You see a shadow crawling across the floor, and you jump to your feet on the mattress, looking for the offender. Your heartbeat reflexively patters in your chest as you scan the floor. Your door opens abruptly, and you yelp.

Astarion looks around and arches a brow. He leans a shoulder on the doorframe with a regaled smirk, “Let me guess,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “You saw a spider.”

He knows you too well. His voice is a salve to the deafening silence, and for a moment, you just let the sound and sight of him wash over you.

“I saw the shadow of a spider,” you finally reply, eyes flicking toward the floor to make sure the errant arachnid is not crawling toward you. “I have yet to see that actual perpetrator.”

“Well,” Astarion giggles. “If you can calm the thumping of your heart. I could find this transgressor rather quickly.”

“It’s not funny, Astarion!” You scold him and cringe, “Have you seen all the legs?”

“On the contrary, darling. It’s fucking hilarious and entirely adorable.” Astarion strolls around your room with silent footsteps. He cocks his head, listening intently, “It’s under your bed.”

Fire instantly leaps to life on your fingers, and you wonder how angry Gale would be if you burned his manor to the ground. You feel like it might be justified.

“A little excessive, no?” Astarion’s hand covers yours, making you smother the flames. “Come, love.” He grabs your legs and throws you over his shoulder. “I will rescue you from this most deadly of foes.”

You giggle as Astarion strides down the hall to his room. He places you back onto your feet and closes his door. You nearly wrap your arms around him until you remember he asked for space. Instead, you fold your arms around yourself and shrink away, taking quick steps back.

He frowns at your retreat, and an awkward silence stretches between you. “I’m sorry I’ve been distant lately,” Astarion begins, breaking the silence, “I just needed time to-“

“Are you okay?” You don’t mean to cut him off, but you finally find your voice. Unfortunately, it means everything you’ve been holding in starts spewing out in a blundering regurgitation of words. “I’m sorry. It was perhaps an ill-judged confession. I don’t expect you to feel the same. Nothing will change between us if-“

Astarion’s lips mould to yours, cutting off your verbal vomit. He holds you close, your body perfectly pressed into the contours of his. He takes his time tasting you, savouring your flavour with an intimacy that makes your knees feel like hot jelly.

“Well,” he smirks, breaking off the kiss, leaving you once again breathless and wordless. “That always did work wonders to shut you up. Now, will you allow me to get a word in, or shall I keep kissing you until you forget what it is you were going to say?”

“I’ve sufficiently been shut up,” you say breathily.

“Good. Sometimes, your mouth is bigger than mine.” He chuckles, taking your hand and kissing all your fingers and palms, rubbing them comfortingly, “Cazador devoted much of his time to convincing us that we were nothing, that we did not matter - not to him, not to any of the Gods, and certainly not to anyone else, and the centuries proved him right, unfortunately. No one ever saw me, really saw me. They saw the rake, the persona I portrayed, and never thought to look any further than that - until you came along with that very darling neck, all your questions, and your objective stupidity.”

You open your mouth to answer, but Astarion puts his finger against your lips and tsks you, “Uh, uh. Patience, sweetheart. It never was your strength.��

His voice is trembling with a vulnerability he seldom allows himself to display. “My past… makes me believe that I am unworthy of such love, but more to the point, it makes me unworthy of you.”

Your eyes widen in genuine surprise. Your features are a gentle portrait etched in a mix of concern and resolve. “Astarion,” you implore, reaching for his hand, “there is no past that can make you unworthy of love.”

“I have done… unspeakable things,” Astarion protests, casting his eyes away from you. “Things that will haunt me for eternity and beyond.”

“I’ll always be there to fight those phantoms of your past with you if you will allow me,” you assure, trying to keep your voice steady while tears streak down your hot cheeks. This is starting to sound a lot like a goodbye, and you’re not sure if you’re ready, “If you’re going to tell me you’re leaving, it’s okay. I understand.”

“What?!” Astarion looks at you with his eyebrows curved upward in shock. “Gods above. No. Come here.” Astarion pulls you in, pressing you against his chest. He only pushes you away slightly so he can guide your eyes to his and looks at you with an intensity that makes you shiver. “I’m not afraid anymore. Not of our future together. I once told you the Gods sent you to ruin me. I realize now they sent you to save me. My heart is yours now and forevermore.”

He pushes you up against the door, pinning you with his hips. Your lips are locked with his in a passionate embrace. Astarion gently skims his fangs down your neck. Your hands tighten around his waist, pulling him closer, and your breath comes in ragged gasps. He scoops you into his arms and throws you on the bed playfully. He crawls over you, removing his shirt and catching your lips in his with a wild and ravenous desire.

He peels off your nightdress with desperation as if his hands simply cannot bear to not have your skin against them for a moment longer. Astarion kisses your chest, taking your nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the stiff peak. Your back arches off the bed, pushing yourself further into him. Your skin is hot, melting the icy chill of his, and you shudder as he bucks his hips into you.

He looks up at you through thick lashes, “What would you say if I said I wanted to make love to you tonight?”

His question consumes all the air inside your lungs, and your body goes rigid as stone. Your heartbeat kicks up as you stare at him with rounded eyes. “Astarion… What are you saying?”

“Hmm,” he cocks his head and arches a brow at you with a charming smirk, “I thought I was rather clear. No matter. Let me try that again. If a night of passion is on offer, I would very much like to make love to you tonight.”

“I… Are you comfortable with that? Are you ready? We don’t have to. We can wait for as long as you need.”

“Oh, my love,” Astarion purrs, taking your hand, kissing every knuckle while never taking his eyes off you. “You have no idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off, well, mostly off, you. Do you? I have been thinking about being inside you nonstop. It has been quite distracting.”

You sweep your thumb across his cheek and along his strong jaw. Trepidation slightly pinches your brow. Good Gods. You want this, but you are afraid.

“I will stop if I need to.” Astarion assures assertively, kissing your forehead and cheek, “But I do not foresee the need. Do not hold back. I want this, Kamena. Really, really want it.”

“Hells, Astarion. I want you too.”

“I know,” he smirks as his fingers find your folds already slick with arousal. “Always so eager for me,” he teases. “Gods below. I love the way your body responds to me.”

Astarion parts you, running his fingers up and down your seam, coating them in the sleekness of your desire. He circles the border of your swollen flesh, and your hips jerk in a plea as you whine against his needy mouth. You wrap your arms around him, and Gods - he feels like he’s been made to fit in your embrace. Astarion’s arm snakes around your shoulders, pulling you tightly to him. His fingers finally sweep over your sensitive bud, and he groans as he coaxes whimpers and moans from your throat, catching your sweet cries on his lips. The outline of his desire is pressed against you. Your fingers undo the laces of his pants and grip him greedily, eliciting a hiss from his clenched teeth.

“Gods,” he pants, kicking off his trousers and freeing his throbbing cock. Precum already beads from his swollen head, and your mouth waters with the memory of the salt of him on your tongue.

Astarion sinks two fingers into you, twitching the pads up so that they hit that sweet spot that makes white flash in your vision with every languid pump. He expertly settles into a rhythm that drives you senseless. You could not keep your eyes open if you tried, and you jerk your hips, sinking his fingers deeper into you with the cry of his name.

“O-oh! Gods. A-Astarion.”

“I love the sound of my name on your tongue,” he purrs, peppering kisses down your neck, and he increases the speed of his thrusting fingers.

“Astarion…” you mewl into the crook of his neck, dragging your fingers through his hair as your muscles tighten. “F-fuck. You’re s-so good. I’m going to… fuck. Astarion! You’re going to make me…”

“Yes,” he groans, guttural and eager, as you both drown in each other. “Let me feel you come.”

Your head drops back, and you cry out with the pure blissful intensity of your climax. Your core grips his fingers, clutching and spasming around him as he hauls you tightly to him and catches your lips in a savage and passionate kiss.

He’s between your legs before you’ve fully recovered, hooking your knee with his. His hands guide your hips in little rolls against him as he glides his cock that weeps with his arousal through your folds. The chill of him on your heated sex is decadent, bracing and sets your nerves aflame.

“Hells,” he purrs with a heavy breath, sweeping his thumb across your cheek. His voice is gentle, yet rough as sandpaper. “I will go slow. Tell me if it hurts or if you need to stop.”

“Make love to me, Astarion,” you murmur, kissing his chest, nipping his neck playfully, and letting your lips whisper up to the tapered point of his ear.

Astarion gasps, shuddering and curling his fingers into your hair. He eases in inch by delicious inch, slowly working you open. You let out a pained whine, and he stills, allowing your body time to adjust to his girth. Gods. The stretch is such a pleasurable kind of pain that you wrap your legs around him and plunge him into you, savouring the fullness.

“Shit,” he hisses, blinking slowly, looking into your eyes. “You feel divine wrapped around my cock, Kamena,” he pants darkly. “Fuck. I missed this.”

He thrusts, tender and sensual, almost painfully teasing in the measured pace. He rocks his hips into you, coming to his forearms and caging you beneath him, pressing himself into every curve of your body as if he cannot possibly get close enough. You sputter nonsensically, twisting your fingers into his silky silver curls. Astarion increases his tempo, and you buck your hips in time to meet his thrust. He presses kisses to your forehead, your cheek, and down your neck. You roll your head to the side in an offering.

He growls, unadulterated and wanton. His fangs sink into your neck. Your eyes snap open. Your hands grab the taut muscles of his side, and then the pain ebbs to an all-consuming ecstasy as you’re spiralling through his body and drizzling in his veins. Your skin prickles as you chase your release. Astarion’s hips stutter as your walls flutter around his hard length, and he moans, a sinfully heavenly rumble deep in his chest. Astarion’s pace becomes less measured and masterful, his movements frantic and hungry.

When you’re walking on the precipice of your orgasm, Astarion rests his forehead on yours. His face is twisted in pleasure, lips parted, taking heavy breaths with every snap of his hips. It’s a beautiful sight that brings tears to your eyes. Astarion purrs, “I love you.”

Fuck. That’s it. That is your undoing, and you crash into a blissful rapture so intense you’re sure that your heart skips several beats.

With one last plunging pump, Astarion joins you as your core is still in the throes of clenching and spasming, massaging him. You can feel his cock pulsing and twitching as he spills himself into you, “Gods above. Oh, f-fuck! Kamena!”

You wrap your arms around him and take his panting lips, dragging him into a ravaging kiss, pressing your sweat-slicked bodies together. Astarion rolls, somehow keeping his cock in you, catching you in his arms and pulling you atop him. You nuzzle your face into him, breathing in his scent. His chest rises and falls beneath you as he heaves a contented sigh.

“You are perfect,” he coos, pressing a kiss into your mussed-up hair and checking the bite on your neck. His breathing is as uneven as yours, “Every time.”

You lay there with him for a while - you’re not quite sure how long, while his hand skates up and down your back, and he hums comfortingly. You could stay like this forever, wrapped in his embrace, sheltered and shielded from your troubles and worries.

Eventually, after your heartbeat settles, you crane your neck to look at Astarion. He smiles at you with ardent love impassioned in the vibrant scarlet of his eyes, “Are you okay?”

Astarion chuckles and points to his temple, “Up here, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“I am free, safe, and happy.” He sweeps some wild strands of your hair back and runs his fingers along your jaw, “I have you in my arms, in my bed and on my cock. It would be a most grievous understatement to say I am simply okay.”

“So vulgar!” You giggle, “Are all vampires so crude?”

“Oh yes,” he drawls, grinning devilishly. “It’s a well-loved pastime of ours. We often meet to exchange vulgarities to unleash upon the unsuspecting masses.”

“I would love to see you unleash some of those upon Gale,” You laugh, letting your fingers trace the defined muscles of his arm, “I wonder how red he would get.”

“Sweetheart,” he snickers, “Gale would positively expire on the spot if he heard some of the things that come out of my mouth. Even yours. You are not innocent, sorceress.” He leans close to your ear and gives you a playful jostle, “I’ve heard some delicious, sinfully indecent things from your very lovely lips.”

“I learned from the best,” you quip with a clever flare in her eye.

“Oh, as much as I would adore taking the credit,” he chuckles with a wicked grin. “I think you’ve always been an absolute freak.”

When you wake, you’re famished, and Astarion practically pushes you out of bed, grumbling about how your growling stomach annoyed him all night.

“You’re a vampire,” you retort, giggling at the look of annoyance scrunching up his face. “You don’t even need to trance.”

“Need and want,” he tuts, clicking his tongue, “are very different things. Now, get out of my bedroom and eat something.” Astarion’s lips quirk up, lop-sided and handsome. His curls are mussed, falling with reckless abandon. He winks, “I have some very depraved, hedonistic plans for you later. If you hope to keep up with me, you need your strength.”

Good Gods. You're already wet. Astarion chuckles as you roll your eyes and slink out of the bedroom. The remnant of your night together is still sticky between your thighs, and your skin prickles with the exhilaration of it all.

Astarion is here, in your bed, in your hands and in you.

“Good morning!” Gale greets you as soon as you step into the kitchen. “I trust you had a… good night?”

You hear Astarion’s loud laughter echoing through the manor and try to stifle your own.

Oh… shit.

“You could say that.” You feel the blush burning your cheeks.

Gale chuckles, sipping his tea while you shovel cut-up fruit into your mouth. The silence is a little awkward, and you’re not sure if participating in useless small talk will make it worse or better, so you opt to stay quiet.

There’s a tap on the door that makes you jump, “I’ll get it. Gale, are you expecting someone?”

“I don’t believe so.” Gale’s brows pinch, and then he smirks, “It’s likely a neighbour coming to make a noise complaint.”

You groan, feeling the heat erupt, rushing back to your face. The early morning sun dazzles you as it streams into the open doorway, blinding you momentarily. When you blink, you realize it’s not the sun that blinds you; it's the gleaming of the silver, metallic armour of the guards standing before you.

“That’s her!” Mr. Blackwell snarls from behind the City Watch guards. The noble is bruised and bleeding, with an eye swollen shut, his lip split and seeping, and a cheekbone that appears to be broken along with many of his teeth. “She’s the one who assaulted me!”

“No!” You gasp as the guards grab your arms, forcing them behind your back. “I didn’t do this!”

“Save it for the courts,” the guard drones, paying your protests no consideration as iron manacles snap shut around your wrists, biting into your skin with an uncomfortable pinch.

“Gale!” You shout over your shoulder as they drag you away. “Don’t let him do anything utterly fucking foolish!”

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. I'm forever thankful for the support.

Chapters Master List - Shadows of the Past

AO3: Crossposted

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Small Notes:

We are finally getting to the smutty goodness :)

And then Kamena is entirely ripped away from the promise of these depraved plans. I, for one, would kill Mr. Blackwell simply for that alone.

#astarion x tav #astarion x you #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion #astarion romance #baldurs gate astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion smut #shadows of the past #astarion bg3 #astarion x oc #astarion x named tav

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factual-fantasy · 3 months

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26 ASKS! :}} FANK U! 🎃

Its partially becuase I know personally how much it sucks to have people draw fanart or take your templates without asking..

But part of it I feel is just.. basic manners? Right? Its heartbreaking to me that just asking to do that stuff beforehand is not the norm. I wouldn't want people do draw/use my stuff without asking, so why should I do that to others?

Even if I see on their blog someone surprised them with fanart and they were over the moon about it. I'd still ask. Its their stuff, I should ask. The answer could be no, you never know! Just be decent and ask first.

@neo-metalscottic

AAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! :DDDD

I can say that the only animatronics that had the bug wiped from their systems are the ones that are in service. But sadly I cannot elaborate much further becuase of spoilers.. 💔💔😔😔😔😔

I DID NOT REMEMBER ELECTROBAB ACTUALLY- Thank you for the reminder! I'll have to add that one in someway, hmm...

Thank you very much! But sorry,, no can do! The ref sheets are only for my eyes to see.. 👀

AAAAA THANK YOU SO MCUH!!! 😭😭💖💖💖💖

A dragonfly! :00

@chloe24603

I got Lolbit! But handunit.. hmmm.. I might have to do something with him-

I KNOW!! 😭😭💔💔💔 Its okay though I immediately turned around and added her to the AU so we're good 👍

AAAAA THANK YOUUU!!!! :DDDDD

@pinkbomb08

AAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDD

XD I'll be sure to draw more of him soon!

@bunny-coffee (Post in question)

AAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! And yes! They do! (Also it doesn't show it here but Nikki's nickname is Melon XDD)

(Post in question)

AAA THANK YOU!! :DD I wasn't so sure about that drawing so I'm glad you liked it! :}}

(Post in question)

XD Sooner than you think-

(Post in question)

EXACTLY XD

I LOVE the amazing world of Gumball. But I don't take drawing requests! <XD

@fablegate

Thank you so much!! :DD I'm glad you like what you see! :}}} 💖💖

Well Tangle is a rather obscure animatronic.. I had to google her actually-

And I don't have much of an interest in the book series, <:( so no twisted wolf. 💔

I was thinking that a monsters magic and body are very intertwined. Like if a monster is physically wounded that effects their ability to use their magic in a way..?

So Jevil having his horns cut would throw off his vibe basically--

@thesweetishfish

I cant really remember any specific headcannons for Shellington or the others off the top of my head... <:/

<XD No no its not Jello. Its blood! :D And yes my hands are fiiiine, they're just artist hands 👍

@beryl-shade

I have! Well sorta- its mostly Minecraft ocs. I have this post, this one and a bonus post! :0

I'm not familiar with that game so I have no idea, sorry! <:0

@danman22ful

I haven't finished Marks play through, but the sass we get from sun is pretty funny XDD

#my response #fnaf sister location #fnaf security breach #octonauts

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ari-jay · 6 months

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🎃🏠WELCOME HOME FANZINE SUBMISSIONS🏠🎃

Hey, everyone! AriJay here to show you my submissions for the neighborly fanzine me and the Welcome Home Geriatric Club made to celebrate the Anniversary of Welcome Home and the change of the seasons!

I have also made a coloring page without the background so anyone can draw and color their own style into the lineart!

Here are also some bigger pumpkin stencils of your favorite neighbors in case you wanna add them to your gourds, melons, or any big sized fruit or veggie(even a Durian!).

I would really love to see if you, your siblings, your pets, or anyone use these/color these! You can either mention me or use the #Welcome Home Fanzine for everyone to see!

This was such a blast to do and be a part of! Props to @snowedinrowan for the wonderful idea and @nosignalart for putting this all together plus the beautiful front cover and their coloring pages!

A thank you to @sheriffopossum for the absolute most on the back cover and their coloring pages!

A special thank you to all the artists who not only made their fair share of coloring pages but also for their wonderful and neighborly support for one another! We're all one big happy neighborhood! Check them all out and give them a "Hey!" bellow!:

@ufash @themanymoodsofben @bloomynmoon @chimeracarnival @frillsand @isa-pain156 @janejellyfish @theknifeclown @gotmusiic @catlover4536 @pennyparsnip @maddiethehatter2192 @weevmo @scarfasaurus

A Very Special Thank You to @partycoffin and the whole Welcome Home Cast and Crew for bringing this project life and sharing this beautiful neighborhood for all eyes to see.

And last but certainly not least, THANK YOU. Without the Welcome Home fandom, the wonderful WH artist who creates works of media, the people who cosplay as their favorite neighbor, and/or anyone who just loves puppets and horror NONE of this would have been possible!

Stay Weird and Wonderful!

!Disclaimer!

We are not affiliated with the Official Welcome Home Project, It's Creator Clown/@partycoffin , or the Official Welcome Home Crew. We are just a bananas bunch of goofy neighbors who love the project and wanted to do something special for the fandom! YOU are just the absolute most!

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nicherayyy · 1 year

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heyy! hope you're having a good day/afternoon/night so far! i've been enjoying many of your la squadra x child! reader drabbles, they're just so cute o((>ω< ))o

i was wondering if i could have some headcanons of the la squadra members letting their stands interact with the child reader (for the sake of this, we'll just say the reader is a stand user since it'd be impossible for a non-stand user to see stands)? idk, i think it'd be so cute seeing scenarios like: the reader giving little feet random useless things and just wanting it to shrink them or maybe the reader trying to teach baby face what they learned in school. not sure how the reader would interact with pesci or ghiaccio's stands since they're not exactly humanoid?? but i'm sure you'll come up with something awesome, haha. tysm!

Omg I’m crying

Child Reader interacting with La Squadra stands

Let’s just imagine that you were born as a stand user (which actually really surprised La Squadra), so you can see their stands. You’re a curious child, so the only thing you want is to communicate with your adoptive parents stands, I mean.. who wouldn’t want to.

When you first saw Man In The Mirror, well, you just stared at him. Don’t think that you were scared, just the opposite. The stand’s features were just.. so interesting. So interesting that you didn’t even blink while looking at him (this scared Illuso af). But after some time you started reading book with the stand. Meanwhile Man In The Mirror just watched over you:

“And then, a big-big hippo.. hip..”

“Hippopotamus”, Illuso corrected with pure amusement in his voice.

“Hush, I’m not reading to you”, you rolled your eyes and then looked at Illuso’s stand that was hiding in the mirror “Am I right?”, Man In The Mirror just nodded.

And when you found out that Little Feet can shrink things, oh boy. Formaggio is already used to these moments when his child asking him if he can “summon his friend because I want him to shrink this book for me”. This moments is so random the poor man doesn’t even know when you want to shrink something again.

Ghiaccio’s White Album is your personal cat. Blue haired man didn’t want you to interact with his stand at first, but he couldn’t stand you being upset so he gave up.

“Can I see a kitty?”, you asked innocently.

“It’s not a cat and my answer is”, Ghiaccio looked into your eyes full of hope “My answer is yes, you can see him” he said before summoning his stand. Ghiaccio is an angry gremlin, but even he can’t resist your wishes.

Fishing with Pesci is gonna be a thing. It’s your monthly tradition after all.

“And now pull”

“Like this?”, you asked while pulling Beach Boy out of water.

“Yes”, Pesci patted your head while smiling, “You did such a great job”

Baby Face is willing to listen whatever you say. Hears something interesting at school? He is already waiting for the interesting fact you’ll tell him today.

“Did you know that whale songs can be used to map out the ocean floor? Isn’t it incredible?”

Melone is just happy to see you so hyped up about something, so he just watches your interaction. In addition, such conversations will help develop his junior.

Risotto would never have thought that his stand can be cute to someone. Well, that was before he met you. Even just holding those little beans in your hands made you so happy.

“Can I hold beans?”

Risotto was distracted from his paperwork.

“Sure you can, just make sure not to make much noise, I’m still working”, he said before Metallica beans were summoned in your hands.

What about Grateful Dead.. well, you saw him just once. From a distance. And after that you keep asking Prosciutto to see him again.

“When will I see your stand again?”, you confront him, looking disappointed.

Prosciutto just sighed.

“I told you that never, it’s dangerous” he replied before putting you in his lap. Anyway you’ll be waiting for Prosciutto’s stand appearance, you even draw him a picture. He must feel so lonely because Pros won’t let you see him.

#la squadra esecuzioni #la squadra di esecuzione #la squadra x reader #la squadra #jjba part 5 #jojo bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jjba x reader #risotto nero x reader #prosciutto x reader #pesci x reader #formaggio x reader #illuso x reader #ghiaccio x reader #melone x reader #jjba vento auero #vento aureo

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bungalowbear · 27 days

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fifteen.

ranger!nanami kento x psychic gym leader!reader, pokémon au, wc: 1k

nanami will reappear in the next part. i promise! and as always thank you to the lovely @likelilacwine for inspiring this series 💜

It’s another hour until sunrise when the knocking echoes through your gym. Dressed in your pajamas, you get out of bed and rub at your eyes as you exit your room and into the hallway. Zorua trails behind you, blinking to fight her sleepiness. You pick her up when she begins to considerably slow down and she immediately burrows herself in your chest.

Knocking sounds again when you’re a few steps away from the front doors. You raise your hand and telekinetically undo the locks. The doors open to reveal a lone figure dressed in a white collared shirt and dark high waisted pants. He turns to fully face you, his long hair lusciously and fluidly following the motion.

“Suguru?” Your shock chases away any lingering sleep. Zorua perks up at hearing a familiar name. The raven haired man’s eyes crinkle at the edges and his rich brown irises are nearly obscured with how widely he smiles. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“It was a last minute decision.” Suguru steps forward shrugging before he gives you a side hug. He uses his free hand to ruffle the top of Zorua’s head, which has her melting under his touch. “How were they?”

“Not any rowdier than they usually are.” You sigh affectionately. You watch as he tickles beneath Zorua’s chin, then add, “I think it was good for them to spend some time here, but I can tell they miss you.”

As if sensing they were the topic of discussion, Haunter and Gengar appear from above, materializing through the ceiling and diving directly toward Suguru. Gengar nearly tackles him, but Suguru manages to keep his balance with his arms keeping the Pokémon secure in his hold. Haunter levitates circles around them with an overjoyed expression.

Although city life can be exciting, every once in a while his ghost Pokémon like to recharge far, far away from the hustle and bustle of it all. Suguru can’t always do it himself, so he entrusts the task to you. He insists the long trek between your gyms is worth it for his Pokémon companions.

Fondness overcomes you seeing the mischievous duo reunited with their trainer. You lead Suguru to one of the drawing rooms so they can continue their reunion while you excuse yourself to get ready for the day.

You and Suguru are in the kitchen cooking breakfast. The sun has risen and warm light filters in through the open windows. The sound of eggs frying and bacon sizzling fills the room. Zorua lays on the mat by the wood stove with her eyes closed and head resting on her front paws.

When the food is ready you and Suguru sit at the small table near the window. An oblong ceramic platter is loaded with the eggs and bacon you prepared, along with slices of buttered toast and fruit slices. You gesture for Suguru to serve himself first while you pour two cups of tea.

“Thank you for looking after them,” he says while adding some melon to his plate.

“No problem. You can bring them back any time.” You look over to where your small Pokémon is still snoozing. “Zorua had a blast with them.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Suguru picks up his fork, but before he begins to eat he levels you with a serious look. “But I actually wanted to talk to you about Mimiko.”

“What about?”

“You know where I found her and Nanako.” Suguru pauses. A brief cloud of anger darkens his aura before it just as quickly passes and he regains himself. “What they went through obviously stunted their growth. So I didn’t realize at first, but I believe Mimiko is psychically inclined.”

“Really?”

Suguru nods. “Would you mind talking to her?”

“Please, bring her in,” you insist. “Anything I can do to help.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that.”

Your brow furrows. His voice is laced with a cunning you’ve come to know very well.

“She’ll need a teacher.” He waits a beat, gauging your reaction. “A mentor.”

And there it is.

You sigh. Heavily.

“I don’t know, Suguru.”

“You won’t be her.” His tone is full of insistence. But not the kind that’s trying to get you to do what he wants. It’s the fiery assured kind that strives only for your benefit. “You won’t turn out like Sabrina.”

Grabbing your cup of tea, your eyes drop to watch the steam rise. You can’t bear to face your friend with so much doubt in you. “You don’t know that.”

“I do.” The conviction in Suguru’s tone draws your eyes upward. “You’re a great gym leader and an excellent trainer. Mimiko could learn a lot from you.”

“I’ll think about it,” you promise.

Suguru nods. You exchange smiles and some of the tension falls away. Breakfast officially starts with comfortable silence and the occasional scrape of utensils on dishes. You pick up your tea once more and make sure your next words come out evenly.

“Satoru came by recently.”

You peek over your cup at him. Suguru doesn’t seem fazed, spooning eggs into his mouth.

“I heard he stepped down,” he says after he swallows his mouthful. “Something about going on a journey.”

“It seems like it’s going well. His friend is very nice.”

Suguru hums, turning his head to stare out the window with his chin propped up on his palm. He and Satoru had a falling out when they were younger and then went their separate ways. Satoru became a League Champion and Suguru established his own gym in Opelucid City.

You remember when you first met Suguru while you were living at the edge of the Kanto region for a brief time and the instant connection you felt to him. There was a profound sadness that sat in the center of his aura. It matched yours. The kind that could only come from losing someone very important to you.

“I’m glad things worked out for him,” Suguru says softly.

A sad smile curves his lips. Your expression mirrors his. But Suguru doesn’t allow you to linger in it for long before he begins to tell you about his recent focus of training dragon types. You give him your full attention, both of you content to ignore the pulsing blue hues that flare from your cores.

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#catalog #jess’s pokemon au #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen #pokemon #pokemon au

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squadrah · 8 months

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Been thinking about this, but which members of La Squadra would be childfree(have almost or completely no interest in having children) and which would like to have a family(if given the chance)? And how big of a family?

Not my forte, but I'll do my best!

Risotto: He strikes me as the type that, given the chance, would have settled down to continue his family's business and had at least one child. I headcanon that he was an only child because being a large baby, the pregnancy and birth was quite difficult and his parents decided not to risk another one. If he faced the same risk with his first child, he would stop at one to spare his partner, but if size was not an issue, he would be content to have several children.

Formaggio: On paper, he is definitely childfree, and had probably bailed on relationships with partners who either started entertaining the idea of having children together, or were too relaxed about contraceptives. He's too independent and carefree to actually want children of his own, and yet if he had to babysit, he would find that he's actually quite good with children, and from there it might not be out of the question with the right partner to have some.

Prosciutto: He is fully capable of being a provider and mentor to children, but having any of his own is not a priority to him in the slightest, and he would not be enticed to make any in order to start a family. Children would have to happen to him in the form of say, becoming acquainted with a worthy child who is up for adoption, or an unexpected pregnancy popping up with a partner that he is firmly committed to. Would definitely draw the line at two.

Pesci: He thinks children are fine and it must be nice to have a family, but he is too self-conscious about passing down his genes and doubts his own ability to take on such a huge responsibility and be a good parent whether his child turns out typical or not, so he tends to play it safe and never really think about it. It would take a very capable and confident partner for him to risk it, and even just one child would be quite nerve wrecking for him to handle.

Ghiaccio: He is in a similar boat to Pesci, but he is much more firmly childfree on account of having his hands full just trying to manage his own temper and energy in a constructive manner. He's also in the camp of "why bring more children onto this bitch of an earth" so he would equally scoff at any of the others expressing interest. I tend to headcanon him as asexual on top of everything else, so the idea of having sex to have children would be quite repulsive to him.

Melone: He is more chill about the idea than the others in the sense that with his disabilities, children are mostly out of the question, but if he managed to have one, he would probably be excited... at least until said child entered their defiant phase, at which point he would start wondering why he ever thought this would be a good idea. He's basically the reverse of Formaggio: on paper children sound good, and then they say no to him once and he's done forever.

Illuso: His opinions are mixed. As a middle child from a numerous family, he knows first hand how messy children can be, and he's not exactly in the right place mentally or emotionally to start a family. On the other hand, he loves drama and would probably get a kick out of observing his own children have blowouts, as long as he didn't have to deal with any of it. Three would be plenty, and he fantasizes about them tearing each other apart over the inheritance.

Sorbet: Absolutely agrees with Ghiaccio about it being cruel to bring more children into life's great shit show, and his frugal nature also rejects the idea on financial grounds. He is probably the most normal about being childfree - you will not find him having arguments either for or against, and if pressed, he will dismiss any attempts with it being a personal preference and his choice. The most he could tolerate is being an uncle, as long as the child liked plants and opera.

Gelato: He, on the other hand, loves children, and not just the idea of them one way or another. To him they are as precious as kittens and puppies are to most people, and he really enjoys their company because kids are very honest and also little freaks with unique ideas and views. If he could, he would have a gaggle about him at all times, but he is also one of the worst enablers ever, so it's probably a good thing that he can't go out and start a family of his own.

#jjba #la squadra #risotto nero #formaggio #prosciutto #pesci #ghiaccio #melone #illuso #sorbet #gelato #squadrah headcanons #squadrah original

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gamebunny-advance · 6 months

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1010 Malt Shop - Green Plushie

It's done. It's finally done. 1 week of blood, sweat, and tears (mostly blood), and he's done.

But I don't have a good enough camera nor photography skills to really capture his true charm ;w;

(Boring self reflection + more pics under the cut)

Anyway, this is the project I've been working on lately. No particular thing really prompted this. Like most things I do, it was started on a whim and finished with will power. I don't really have much experience with plush making or sewing, so despite his obvious faults, I still think he turned out pretty nicely for an amateur.

As per usual, I didn't have enough foresight to document the process, but I can nonetheless talk about the experience and point out some details of it.

Firstly, he's a pretty large lad. Here he is compared to the official DJSS plush and one of the test prints I did of "Melon Float."

Counting his straw, he's about 16 inches tall. I wasn't counting on him being so big, so I don't really know what I'm gonna do with him now...

I say this took a week, but I probably could have quartered that time if I had a working sewing machine, but since I didn't, the majority of the time was spent just sewing the thing together. (Btw, pattern over here.) The only fabric details that weren't hand-sewn are the circle/stripe details on his pants and shoes, and the bow/buttons on his shirt, which were all glued on.

The base pattern didn't come with any clothes, so I just adapted the body patterns into clothes. Structurally, he's basically wearing a second skin~ I did think about making the gloves for the sake of accuracy, but at that point, the only skin he'd be showing is his face, and I wanted to keep some soft parts out since his clothes are so stiff. They're so stiff, they can stand on their own and be stacked on top of each other without falling over.

(The plush has a harder time standing than his clothes do...)

Speaking of the clothes, let me say right now that it bothers me more than anyone else that the paint details don't color-match his pants. I was so high on the euphoria of starting this project that when I was out getting supplies, I saw some glow-in-the-dark paint and thought it'd be a great idea since he's a robot and all. The color on the bottle looked close enough at the time, and the original plan was that only the face would be painted with the other details being felt, but on top of me forgetting that effects paint takes a long time to build up layers, the green also dried differently than I thought it would, so it threw everything off, but I didn't have the patience to suck it up and repaint everything with a better color match. I did try to add a light gradient with my pastels like in the original art work, but it turned out so light that it's barely perceivable and totally not worth the clamminess I get when I touch chalk.

I think the most time-consuming part was his hair. While sewing the body together took 2 days, the clothes 2 days, and painting 1 day, the hair took about 3 as I had to figure out essentially how to do it myself on the fly. The first day was mostly trial and error. I did find a couple of online tutorials about how to get this loopy yarn hair, but the ones that I found both required tools that I didn't have. Eventually, I figured out a way to make it work, but I feel like it was less than efficient:

Basically, his hair is made with chunks of yarn that are tied together, and each chunk is individually sewn into place. I didn't count, but I think there are 13-14 hair chunks total to give him a full head. I do like how I made his bangs uneven to mimick how I draw his hair, but I couldn't quite pull off having his distinct hair-part and I couldn't figure out how to give the illusion of half his hair being straight without it looking weird. (I did try cutting the loops to let the strands be straight, but I didn't like the look of it, so I kept them all loopy).

This is a weird thing to say out of context, but I'm especially proud of the back of his head. Originally I was just going to paint on his undercut (which I'm glad I didn't because this paint REALLY hardens the cotton), so I got the bright idea to sew on individual strands of yarn for it. I think the effect is great, but I would not wish it upon my worst enemy, because to get the effect, I had to sew on each. strand. individually. The day I made the face poll, and said that was going to be a break day? I wound up doing this instead, and it took just as long to sew in those 20+ strands of yarn as it did the rest of his hair.

To segway into that poll, as you can see, I went with option 2 with some slight edits. Just the white/green eyes looked a little plain to me, so I added my usual dark pupil and added a green-star glitter to the center. I'm the one that has to live with this thing for the foreseeable future, so I made some executive decisions. Unfortunately, there were a few errors while painting, which you can clearly see in the above pictures OTL. I did try to seal off my painting areas with tape, but it still bled and stained in a few places. I don't really know if it's possible to clean the stains without ruing the rest of the face, but if you have any ideas, I'd love to hear them.

There are a few extra details that I guess are worth pointing out: he's actually wired. I put in some armature wire so he'd be able to move his limbs despite the stiff felt but... I didn't secure them that well, and the wire for his arms got displaced, so I currently can't bend them ;3;. I'd have to open him up again to replace it, and I REALLY don't want to undress him again to get to his back. The worst thing about this plush is that his clothes are so stiff that he's actually very hard to dress.

The wire in his legs is mostly still in place, so he can at least (kinda) sit.

I think the last thing worth talking about is the ice cream accessory. It was really simple to make (it's just air dry clay over foil + extra pieces), but it's cute, so I wanted to point it out~

It's a hair clip, so it can be taken on and off. Theoretically, it could be worn by a person, but it's a little heavy to be wearing it all day~ The camera/lighting really blew out the colors, but I think it turned out to be a nice creamy french vanilla color like I really wanted~

Other details like the glitter on his eyes/cheeks can't really be captured on my shitty ipod camera, but rest assured that he is pleasantly sparkling~

I think my biggest takeaway from this project has been materials: I thought that using felt would be a great alternative to having to buy an entire yard of fabric for a one time project, but besides the paint, it was the hardest material to work with. If I have to pick and choose, next time I think the body will be felt, and the clothes will be cotton, or maybe I'll actually invest in some fleece, so it can be soft all the way~ Since the clothes are removable, I could theoretically make him his default sailor suit and just replace the straw with his proper hair loop to convert this into a "canon" design plush, but we'll see what the future holds. I did get the felt colors to make my *other* babygirl, but given this experience, I may hold off on making him until a much later date.

#gbunny makes #plush #nsr #no straight roads #green 1010 #1010 #1010 malt shop #short story time: so I think i've said this before #but i originally started the malt shop series because i just wanted to make a pink white!1010 and it just evolved from there #and i wanted a pink version of him because in the off chance that i ever decided to 'make' something of him #i wanted it to fit in with the rest of my things #which are mostly pink #well the day finally came when i wanted to make something #that said #i made green because 1: i thought the contrast would actually work better for my pink things #since green and pink a complimentary colors #and 2: all of green's hair accessories would give me more things to make #and thus more skills to use/improve on #since it's my first 'original' plush i wanted to practice as many techniques as possible so the next one can be even better!#this experience has taught me that i DEF need to sew in his head accessories BEFORE the hair #and if i'm going to add an undercut using this method #I also need to do that before the hair #i'm telling you. sewing the base was the easiest part #it's all the hair that was the biggest hurdle for me

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