#but have been thinking about my old sketch friends a lot recently

[energydeficient]

lol guess who's not dead (i am not back) (i am just here to shout into the void that i am in fact still alive) (and miss my old friends) (hope all of u have been doing well since i dipped off the face of the earth lol) ok thats all from me have a good night 🫡🫡

#did i need to make this post? not really #but have been thinking about my old sketch friends a lot recently #and a lot of them followed me here i guess #ANYWAY #i do still write #but very differently to back then and way less regularly lol #i will not be returning to this blog permanently #i am so sorry for how awkward i was during this era of my life #and generally so very clicheed tumblr user #miss u all and hope youve had good fulfilling lives since i was last here :) #charlie out? well not rly #i'll check this blog Sometimes #but yeah #other than that love you all and see u around i guess <3

[novelizt]

PEERING EYES OVER WROUGHT-IRON FENCES ☁︎ ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

GENRE ➺ childhood friends (to estranged friends) to lovers. angst w/ a happy ending.

WC ➺ 12.2k

SYNOPSIS ➺ to uncover the mystery of iris griffith's murder, it's time to face the music, cross the fence, and talk to a friend you never expected to become a stranger to.

WARNINGS ➺ mentions of the lockwood family tragedies, strained family dynamics, discussions and descriptions of murder

DISCLAIMER ➺ fem! reader. lockwood & co. are aged up to about 18-years-old, I try to shoe-horn forensic science into psychical investigations (I am not a professional so... it's unrealistic, sorry.), and Lockwood calls reader cherry/cherry cheeks

NOTE ➺ I can't remember if Portland Row has wrought-iron fences. In case it doesn't, it does now — this is fan fiction. Also, this is the first time I've finished a story this lengthy and I feel really proud of myself. I hope you enjoy!

The first time Lockwood had laid eyes on you, you were a set of peering eyes over a wrought-iron fence. He could barely see over it, but he could remember how round and shiny your eyes were. All doll-like and unrealistic. Honestly, it scared him. You couldn't blame little Lockwood for scuttling back to his sister.

That same day, your parents had brought you over and formally introduced themselves. Between your parents's statuesque figures, stood you.

Contrary to your encyclopaedic eyes, your mannerisms were timid. You looked miniscule in your Sunday dress. You looked like a breeze could knock you over. Anthony couldn't help but feel bad for running from you earlier.

Following introductions, a terse dinner ensued. Your parents were doctors, the kind who would scamper about in hospitals in scrubs and white coats — people who believed in science. His were researchers who dabbled in spiritual devices of different cultures — people who preferred to find the emotional aspect in the supernatural. Suffice it to say, the conversation was very one-sided.

Even then, Anthony was determined to be your friend. He thought having pretentious parents, like yours, would spoil the fun in things like spinning tops or fencing or enjoying pie with ice cream after supper. (Your parents had insisted the sugar would make it difficult for you to sleep.)

Anthony had made up his mind before you even uttered a word to him.

The instant the adults had dismissed you to the living room with Anthony and Jessica, he had snuck you a pie with extra ice cream on top. He and Jessica had their backs to the door so in the unlikely event that your parents came in, they wouldn't see you breaking their rules.

You weren't much younger than Anthony back then, but with cherry smeared across your cheek and ice cream clinging to your lip, he thought you were as cute as a button. He wasn't aware that he had been smiling at you so widely.

He missed the knowing glint in Jessica's eyes.

Across the peaceful months you'd spent as friends, Anthony and Jessica would tell you about their parents' most recent findings and you'd tell them the most bizarre concepts you learned at the academy.

At night, Anthony would sit by the window in his attic room, flagging out written messages on a sketch pad. Across the way, you would poke your head out to read it.

lots of apples are falling these days. want some?

my parents won't let me

that's because an apple a day keeps the doctors away. i think they're scared

no way... papa says he cuts people open. how could he be scared of apples?

ew... and I dunno, cherry. do you want apples or not?

stop calling me that

apples?

sure...

come down

ARE YOU MENTAL??

He was, indeed, crazy. He had tiptoed all the way downstairs and grabbed his mother and father's favorite jackets on the way out.

In the bite of night and the glow of ghost-lamps, he looked up at your house to see your head poking out of of a different window, a crazed expression on your face. 'What are you doing?' you mouthed.

"Hurry!" He yelled back. He chuckled when you'd flinched and checked behind you. He held up the jackets and took a breath, watching in amazement as fog formed from it.

All while you tapped the window sill in thought. You took one more contemplative glance behind you, then shut the window.

You were vaulting over the fence in no time. He caught you, cushioning your fall with the jackets he'd taken and greeted you with an incandescent smile. Even in greenlight, your little heart skipped a beat.

"Here. Wouldn't want you to catch a cold. We'd both be in trouble if you did."

He threw his mother's coat over your head. It was so big, it enveloped you like a gown. You tried to slip your arms through the sleeves but you only got halfway before you wiggled the limp fabric in his face. He swatted you away but folded them up enough so your palms could come through.

His father's jacket was huge on him, too, but he had the kind of air that made him look natural in it.

In his efforts to help you, his own hands had turned red from the cold. You seized them and stuffed them in your pockets, since your—his mother's—jacket had the lined pockets.

After huddling for warmth, you two grew warm enough to walk further into the backyard and pick up handfuls of apples. You found that you could only fit three apples in each pocket, so you held more by tucking your shirt into your pants and shooting them into your shirt. Anthony had done the same. You didn't realize how ridiculous your actions were until you saw how puffed his figure looked with that many apples stuffed down his shirt.

You snorted so loud it hurt, slapping your hand over your mouth to kill any more laughs that could alert the sleeping adults.

He turned his head to you, like an owl. It made more apples fall from your shirt as your shoulders shook. He shushed you, frantically glancing at the house. "What's wrong with you?"

You shook your head, riding the wave of maturity before it crashed. Little laughs and apples spilled from you. "You look like a pufferfish!"

He looked down and examined himself then, indignantly, he pointed at you. "You're literally spewing apples, you're just as bad!"

Restraint crumbled. Your hand came away and your laughs filled the silent night air. Anthony's laughs began to dance with yours until the pair of you were reduced to shaking stumps surrounded by fallen apples.

"Don't look at me! You're making me laugh!"

"Your face is funnier!"

"Stop it!"

"Cherry— You're only making me laugh more!"

It was no surprise that his parents had woken up and scolded you two accordingly. While they tutted at you, you two sat under the same blanket. Elbowing each other when they began to question who'd initated it.

You weren't a snitch. You did not tell, and they never found out who caused the trouble.

Jessica later rewarded you both with a cookie under their noses. You cracked your cookie in half to share with her. Anthony did the same to his, giving his other half to you.

—

Those memories were a far cry from the present. On some days, they felt like dreams. Now, all you are to him is a pair of peering eyes over wrought-iron fences.

Lockwood would catch glimpses of you on the way back from a case. He would nod, you would nod. Then both of you would continue on with your lives like the era of cherry pies and fallen apples had never happened.

Some days, he would turn the newspapers, checking to see if student doctor you had earned any new accolades in your scholastic journey to saving lives, but he never had it in him to say hello to you.

That morning's issue had you on the front page. You with your resplendent eyes and smile finally sporting a white coat at the ripe of eighteen, the first one of your age to earn 'Doctor' as a suffix to your name. Apparently, you'd applied your studies on forensic science to aid psychical investigations involving mummified body parts.

Seems you were doing well.

He placed the paper face down on the thinking cloth, ignoring Lucy's questioning gaze as he took a sip of tea.

"What's happened now?" Lucy asked, stretching her neck to see what made him so upset. She settled back into her seat after she set her eyes on the crossword puzzle, unable to glimpse the front page. "Kipps's crew?" she guessed.

"No, he would have his brow furrowed like this–" George turned to show his brows knitted together so hard they looked like they were drawn on with marker. "–if it was Kipps. It's got to be something else."

"Oh, right," Lucy said with bite, smacking her head like that made sense. "How could I forget?"

George shrugged, grinning like he had a secret on the tip of his tongue. "I don't know, Luce. Maybe it's the letters you've been receiving from one; Norrie White."

Lucy's chair scraped as she stood, gaping at George with anger tightening her mouth. "You went through my mail!"

"She wrote her name in marker. Red. Marker. I would have to be blind to miss it."

Lockwood kicked back and watched the drama ensue, a smile easing itself back on his face. Lucy and George's petty squabble was always a shot of espresso on a rather depressing morning. They made an excellent stopper to all his wonderings about the past.

"That was none of your business!" Lucy shrieked. In her fury, her hands itched to do something... to throw something.

Lockwood realized too late. He vaulted forward to pry the newspaper from her fingers, but Lucy's rage made her a savage. She chucked the newspaper at George with the velocity of a racing car.

The headlines collided with George's face with a resounding thud.

His glasses fell and landed with a unceremonious noise. Thankfully, unscathed from the impact.

The same could not be said for his nose.

George's face pulsed like he had been stung by the world's largest be. He splayed his hand over his nose to check for bleeding and groaned.

"That hurt..."

"Of course it did. I intended it to," Lucy huffed. She scooped up George's glasses and the paper. "That ought to teach you about looking at my correspondence."

"Didn't have to thump me that hard though," George grumbled, snatching his glasses back.

He looked like a dartboard bullseye wearing glasses. Lockwood couldn't focus on it though. His eyes were honed in on the newspaper Lucy was currently unraveling.

He bit his cheek and decided to finish his tea in one gulp. "Well," Lockwood started, fixing his collar as he stood. "I'd better see what we're taking on tonight. I'll be—"

"Hey, this is that girl next door." Lucy pushed her face closer to the paper to reassure herself that she wasn't seeing wrong. She'd seen that blouse and trouser combo on you a few days ago. "Yeah! That's her!"

George showed a rare kind of expression. A raised brow aimed at Lockwood. "She's a doctor now. How could that be upsetting?"

"Don't tell me you have a rivalry with her because she poked you in the bum when you were little," Lucy joked.

Lockwood's face flushed. He looked at the kitchen door, contemplating escape, then back to his friends. He leaned on the doorframe, attempting to look lax but coming off as stiff as a board. "Who said I was upset?"

"You were quiet over tea," George said.

"What of it?" Lockwood pushed.

George gave him an are you kidding me kind of look. "You never shut up when you can help it."

"And you did this." Lucy copied his pondering face, and Lockwood grimaced—reminding himself to school his expressions better.

"Please. For all things good, never do that again, and I am not upset at her—"

"Defensive now? You so are," George chuckled.

Lockwood's jaw ticked. "I am not—"

Saved by the bell. All three heads turned to the door with interest. It was still early in the day, so a new client was unexpected.

"I'll get it," Lockwood said. He left a prattling Lucy and George in the winds of his coat.

The doorbell rang again before he got to it. "Keep your shirt on—"

George and Lucy idled at the foot of the stairs as the door swung open. George let out a gasp, Lucy elbowed him to keep quiet.

Speak of the devil and he will appear. Though, you were more seraphic in that white dress, innocently festooned with embroidered cherries. Your smile was as disarming as ever. It was even brighter than the light haloing your hair.

"Hello."

Lucy tripped over air at the sweetness of your voice, now understanding how the word 'mellifluous' came to be.

Lockwood was indifferent.

Just staring at the back of his head, Lucy knew he was sporting an expression reserved just for Kipps and his crew. It made her want to kick his shin and tell him to get himself together.

"Hi," Lockwood finally greeted, tone bleak. "What are you doing here?"

"Lockwood," George finally intervened. Seems he was taken by how you carried yourself, too.

Both your and Lockwood's heads turned to him.

"Oh, you must be George Karim." Your smile widened, outshining the light above the door. "And Lucy Carlyle. Pleasure to finally meet you."

Lucy and George rarely agreed on things, but they spoke like they were on the same wavelength then. "Pleasure is ours."

A little laugh escaped you, just as graceful as the swish of your skirt. You introduced yourself, discounting your new title. "My parents asked me to invite friends to my celebratory dinner tonight but I don't have people I'd really consider friends." Your honeyed eyes drifted back to Lockwood, trying not to wilt under his blasé gaze. "I was thinking you three could drop by. No need to bring anything but yourselves. We have pie and ice cream for dessert."

Hope was alight in your eyes. The insider statement flew over George and Lucy's heads, and apparently, Lockwood's too. Your expression dampened as it struck you.

"That sounds nice," George said pleasantly.

Lucy nodded in agreement. "And it's not every day we get invited to a free meal."

"With pie." George was already dreaming about it.

Lockwood let out a breath. "Sorry. We have a case tonight."

"No, that's for Friday night," George interrupted. "Isn't that right, Lucy?"

"That's right," Lucy doubled down.

Both of Lockwood & Co.'s best simply blinked and grinned at Lockwood's taut form.

"Great," you quipped. Your eyes lingered on Lockwood but moved to George and Lucy when he showed no interest in being civil. "I'll see you tonight, then. Have a nice day!"

"You too!"

Lockwood gave you a sufficient nod and lipped smile as he closed the door. The moment you were out of sight, the room turned sepia.

Silence for a moment, then George.

"There is definitely something going on here."

—

Despite Lucy and George's joint efforts to pry answers from him, Lockwood did not bend. When the light began to die outside, they retired to their own rooms to prepare. Finally leaving him in silence.

Lockwood chose to wear his usual get-up. The only difference was his waistcoat. It sported a thin, stylish red stripe down it's right side; George had worn an unstained shirt for once, so he did put a bit more effort into his looks that evening; and Lucy wore her best skirt and sweater to put her best foot forward.

"Now," Lockwood said as they all spiraled down the steps. "You have to remember a few things about our neighbors."

"And that would be?" George rolled his eyes.

"They're doctors," Lockwood answered like it was a sin.

"All of them?" Lucy asked with interest.

"Yes, the entire family," Lockwood confirmed. "You have to remember that when they start getting weird about our work."

"Why?" Lucy flicked a crumb left on George's shoulder once they reached the last step. "We get help from hospitals when we need to examine post-mortem documents. It's not like our professions are worlds apart."

"You mean I get help," George corrected firmly. "Not like either of you do the grisly work when it comes to research."

"Well, you're the best at it," Lucy said placatingly.

"'Course I am," George nipped.

Lockwood shushed them. "Regardless of what they say, do not loose your cool. They think getting you worked up means they win.

"They can't be that bad. Your girl was nice enough," Lucy said.

Lockwood's brows furrowed then unfurrowed. "She's not my girl," he said, opening the door with zeal.

"Sure," Lucy grinned as she slipped past.

—

34 Portland Row looked the same as 35 from the outside. The interior decor made it clear that the home was made up of doctors. Successful ones, by the looks of it.

You greeted them at the door with the same radiatant smile from the papers. Your dress was marvelous but Lucy and George could not help but look over your shoulder, into the opulence of 34 Portland Row.

Like always, Lockwood greeted you with a nod and addressed you by name. It wasn't much but you accepted it with cheeks strained from practicing your smile.

As you lead them to the dining room, their eyes wandered at their own volition. Lockwood couldn't help but do the same.

The crystal chandelier in the living room was as decadent as ever; the doorknobs had been changed to be made of glass and silver; the bookshelves were packed with newer books—likely yours; the wall next to the stairs still held your height measurements from years ago. He caught your eye as he did so, trying not to flinch at the waves of melancholy that crashed over him. He chose to look at the back of your head as the light of the dining room enveloped them.

Like every room in this house, a chandelier sat in the middle. Everything was gleaming. Not a speck was out of place, except maybe him. Perfect, just like the family that lived here.

The table was already set with steaming meals of steak, veggies, and mashed potatoes. There was a pitcher of juice in the middle but Lockwood noticed that he, Lucy, and George's glasses were already filled with water. Your mother had just finished filling the last one when she offered her most deceitful smile.

"Anthony Lockwood and friends..." your mother greeted. Her tone was eloquent but the drawl in it sent an unwelcomed pang of anxiety through Lockwood, he tensed then forced himself to relax. "Haven't seen you around lately, Tony."

"Running a business does eat time, unfortunately." He spared her a terse smile and sat at the chair you directed him to — just across from you. Lucy sat beside you, and George had the misfortune of sitting next to your father. Lockwood cleared his throat to break the silence. "You haven't aged a day, Mrs.—"

"Doctor, actually. We've had this conversation before," she chortled with a furled smile you would only expect from the devil's mistresses.

Lucy and George found sudden interest in their food. Your shoulders sunk, but like times before, you didn't say anything. Lockwood tried not to look surprised.

"Right... Doctor. My apologies." He straightened himself in his seat. "You two look swell. How has the winter been treating you?"

"Oh, it's absolutely tiring," your father said. He had the kind of tone that suggested that he was always pouting. At least he wasn't spitting venom while he was talking about himself. "Patients coming in but rarely being able to make it out. Terrible thing, really."

"Sorrows to those who have passed because of the upstart," your mother chipped in. "Our little darling saved some lives in lieu of her recent graduation, and she's only been a doctor for a few days!"

Your mother smiled at you. You refused to look up from your dinner. "All I did was administer CPR. The hospital was understaffed that day. I work in a different department, mama."

Her smile faded before her eyes snapped to Lockwood, her grin sharpening.

"Can you imagine that? Not even a day as a doctor and she's already on the papers. Real talent gets recognized straight away, everyone knows."

Your father did not finish chewing his steak before he joined in. "Kids these days run around wasting their time on things other than their academics. What do they expect to do after their talents fade, huh? Our girl has no worries in that department."

George pushed his plate away after a blob of spit landed on his potatoes. He thought it was best to put down his utensils as well. His grip was turning his knuckles white. Lucy had resorted to pushing her asparagus to calm the anger beginning to stoke in her mind. They were beginning to see why Lockwood did not want to come. The aforementioned remained with a practiced smile on his face.

Your eyes conveyed your apologies yet Lockwood refused to look at you. You were as meek as the girl Lockwood first saw over the fence. Your voice was weaker when you used it in this house. "Mama, papa. Those kids risk their lives to make living easier for everyone. Bravery like that can't be learned from textbooks."

"No, but keeping your nose out of that business altogether will keep you alive." Your mother's expression changed, a beguiling woman turning into medusa before their very eyes.

You sunk under the weight of her stare. You might as well have turned to stone.

"Knowledge keeps you alive," your father added. "Perusing supernatural business will only end with dead kids or orphans who have to resort to psychical work to get by. Some of them work up the nerve to call it a real profession."

A resounding ring resounded from Lockwood's side of the table. He had dropped his knife. His smile had gone. His lips twitched, like he wasn't sure what to do or say. Ultimately saying nothing.

Your eyes glossed over, anger and sadness swirling together in your belly. You were ready to let loose, to set your parents straight. Yet, one look at your father's face was enough to have you curling in on yourself.

The temperature dropped like the conversation had. No one said a thing when smoke began to choke the room.

"Well," your mother cheered. "Seems like the pie is ruined. I'm afraid we'll have to end supper here."

—

Lucy rushed the door open, just itching to unload the tangle of colorful words she'd thought up in that stuffy house of yours.

"They were horrendous," George said, throwing his flannel aside. "I thought that junior doctor was nice but now I know she's Medusa's spawn."

"She is. And have you seen her dad?" Lucy doubled down. She considered going downstairs to release her pent-up emotions but thought better of it. "Terrible, the lot of them."

Lockwood had thought the same cruel thoughts but hearing it from them made him defensive. You weren't bad. You were just a bystander. Your lack of responses hurt as bad as your parents's passive-aggressive jabs, but you weren't even close to being half the evil your parents were. He felt his stomach churning as they began to drag your name through the dirt.

"We are never going back there," George declared. "You were right, Lockwood."

"I need 24 hours of sleep to recover from it. I've never felt so murderous before." That was Lucy's way of saying goodnight. She started for the steps right after.

"I think we should go back. So you can finish the job," George said, following Lucy up the stairs.

Lockwood stumbled ahead, throwing his coat on the newel and collapsing at the foot of the steps. From where he lazed, he continued to hear Lucy and George bicker.

"Maybe you could call up that Norrie White to help you get away with murder," George said encouragingly.

"Don't even start on that, George," Lucy warned.

Her door closed.

"Fine," George said despondenty. "It was just a suggestion, geez."

His door closed, too.

Lockwood let out a breath. It felt like his soul had left his body for a moment of reprieve. He didn't have even five minutes of silence before he heard urgent taps reverberating through his ears. He sat up, alarmed, trying to assess where the noise could have come from.

After a quick sweep, he swung the kitchen door open and discovered you on the other side of the garden door, knuckles raping against the glass with a pained look on your face.

He contemplated leaving you out in the cold but decided that he wasn't that kind of person. He opened the door and wasn't all that surprised that your habit of forgetting a jacket stayed true. You were shivering.

"Anthony—"

"Give me a moment," he interrupted. He turned, walked back to the steps to retrieve his coat, then returned to drape it over your shoulders. "Come in. Sit. You never remember to bring a coat at night, stubborn girl."

You smile despite the frost on your face. Your face turns pink as the warmth of 35 Portland Row thaws you. He sits you on his usual seat and takes George's cushioned seat instead.

"Old habits die hard," you chuckle, holding his coat tighter. If you bent your head enough, you would get a whiff of him on it. You could have tried to do it inconspicuously but he was sitting right there, he would know. "I'm sorry... for everything. I thought they wouldn't– I really should have known they would say things like that. I apologize for them. I really do feel bad. If Mr. Karim and Ms. Carlyle are still up, I'd like to tell them as well."

"They've retired for the night," he reports. He redacts the part that they were discussing the demise of your family. "but thank you for coming to say that."

"And I'm sorry I didn't say anything," you add.

Lockwood doesn't say anything to that. In his mind, you would have stopped them if you were really sorry. "Why did you come here? And please don't say you're inviting us to another dinner."

"Goodness, no." You snort. "I... have a case. I don't know who else to surrender the evidence to."

His brows jump. "You're asking for psychical service? From me? Us, I mean."

You nod. "I hear that Ms. Carlyle is particularly gifted. What I think we're facing is something special. Something no regular agent can feel out."

"Why hasn't Fittes or Rotwell been put up to this if it's that important?"

"Because it's a personal study of mine." You drop a manila folder on the thinking cloth. Lockwood didn't even notice you were holding it earlier. "It's a closed case. An unsolved one. The autopsy is gruesome and justice was never brought to the victim. I searched her property myself and found the source. I tried to communicate with her but I can't do it."

"And you think Lucy is the Listener for the job?"

"Yes. I don't just want to get rid of a ghost, Anthony, I want to lay her to rest. To give her peace."

He leans back in his chair, drinking in the information while he raked a hand through his hair. "You investigated the area of the haunting alone?"

"In daylight," you said in your defense. "My sense of touch is useful enough for me to know if something is a source. Problem is, I can't get any psychical resonance to find out who had killed her."

"Amazing..." he breathed. He didn't know you had that level of sensitivity. Still, he had to think of this as an official case. He righted his posture immediately. "I'll ask George and Lucy in the morning. Can you come by at nine?"

"Yeah. My parents are at work before then. No worries about them."

"Good."

You nod, not knowing what else to do. "Good."

You stared at each other. Possibly taking in how much time had changed you; The scars he'd earned through the years, the callouses on your hands from studying, blemishes, changed mannerisms—and then the unspoken reminder that you had drifted apart after the Lockwood family turned from four to one. You were completely different people to the children who used to laugh through these halls.

"I better get going," you said. You couldn't handle Lockwood and his expressive eyes. You don't know if he was doing it consciously, but it was like you could see his sadness bleeding into the world just by glancing at them.

He nodded like a puppet on a string, pulling himself up and leading you to the garden door once more.

"Goodnight," you said, mustering a friendly smile that was, thankfully, returned.

"Night... Cherry," he replied.

You smiled for a moment more before you snuck back home. Neither of you remembered that you had his coat until morning.

—

You were knocking at 35 Portland Row at 8:55. You stood stiffly, not knowing how to conduct yourself after last night's catastrophe. Lockwood's coat was folded over your arm when George answered the door.

Opposite of the day before, his face was flat. If you turned around and left, you'd be doing him a favor. Unfortunately for him, you were there with intention.

"I need the help of Lockwood & Co."

George opened his mouth, probably thinking of some creative way to say 'shove off'. Lockwood's voice from the kitchen bellowed over his train of thought. "It that her? Let her in, Georgie."

George was mumbling something but he stepped aside and didn't stab you with a nearby rapier. You believed that meant there was a chance to redeem yourself.

You were lead to the receiving room where you were shortly joined by Lockwood and an either groggy or bloodthirsty Lucy. George had retired to the kitchen to bring in biscuits. You hadn't earned the respect to have cake in the vicinity.

Lockwood lead the conversation, eyes trained on you. It made you conscious enough to shuffle and pick at the frayed seams of his coat.

"You only gave us a few details about this case. Evidently it was murder but it was closed and unsolved for two decades."

"I have the rest here," you said, revealing another manila folder. This one was thicker, packed with all you knew about it. It was the real deal. As you passed it across the table, the three of them ogled at the vivid red 'confidential' stamp slanted across the front. "Her name was Iris Griffiths. She was a forensic scientist who cracked several unsolved cases in her time. She had sensitive hearing, from what her colleagues said. She wasn't working on any new cases before her housemate reported her dead on a random night."

"Was it during winter? She could have been ghost-touched." Lucy suggested with a clipped tone. She just wanted to close the case and never see you again.

You shook your head, reaching across and guiding Lockwood's hand to another page in the folder. "Her autopsy shows several lacerations and bruises but no remnants of ghost touch. Her body was already decomposing when she was found."

"And her flatmate? They could be a suspect." George pitched.

You shook your head again. "Celia Rodney was out of town with her fiancé. Several colleagues were interviewed and confirmed it."

Lockwood looked up. "Then we have to assume that it's someone from Griffith's personal life. Did she have a lover?"

"This is like the Annie Ward case all over again," Lucy groaned.

You continued nonetheless. "She did have a lover, actually. Howard Gasley was her co-worker and boyfriend. They had a good relationship, according to the interviews, so I don't suspect any foul play between them."

George leaned against the right side of his chair. There was a creak from the old thing but he ignored it. "What if their relationship was rocky behind the scenes?"

You looked down at the evidence file and sighed. "I guess we will find out when Ms. Carlyle's able to speak with her. All our suspects have solid alibis. To obtain justice for Iris Griffith, we'll have to be her witnesses."

George turns stiff. "We? Lockwood."

Lucy does the same. "You're asking me to communicate with a ghost?"

Lockwood tries to settle them down with a relaxed smile. "It's high time I stop scolding you for being good at what you do, Luce. Our client is explicitly asking you to exploit your talent and find us a killer. The client is always right. Isn't that right, George?"

George grumbles a reply you don't hear, and Lucy nods limply, like she can't comprehend the fact that Lockwood was being so lax about this. What happened to the dangers of communicating with ghosts?

Regardless, they realize that arguing with him was going to be a losing battle. He has that look in his eye—one akin to an adrenaline junkie who's about about to jump from a cliff, and his eyes are set on you.

Lucy and George watched as you returned his coat before they shot each other looks.

What happened to hating you and your white-coat family? Lockwood marched to the beat of his own drum, apparently.

They had their kits ready before dark and met you on the street you'd told them about. Lockwood saw your peering eyes over the run-down house's picket fence and quickened his pace.

"Lovely place," Lucy drawled, eyeing the chipping paint with faint curiosity. Two decades could do so much to a nice house.

"Very lively," George seconded with bite, side-stepping the corpse of a rat.

"I have the source inside, under a chain net," you inform them. You push open the door, wincing as the hinges break and send the wood slamming to the floor. "I hope the house holds long enough to finish this investigation."

"Finally," cheered Lucy. "something we can agree on."

Lockwood was contemplating over how to behave himself. One second, he was keeping pace with you, then walking ahead the next, then falling behind you. He cycled between all three, ignoring George's rolling eyes and Lucy's sighs until all four of you reach the second-floor's lavatory. Luckily, no one had fallen through the floor.

"Do tell me we're not dealing with supernatural turd," George begged.

Lucy wrinkled her nose. "I'll be the one doing the Listening so you can take your complaints outside, George."

"This might be worse," you answer them when you pull off the chain net from an odd looking thing. It looked like a starfish wrapped in ripped and yellowed tissue paper. Lucy gagged when she took a second look.

"Mummified hand," Lockwood said aloud, trying to keep a placid smile on his face. "I always tell you to never mess with mummified body parts but we'll have to make an exception."

"Mummified parts bridge the forensic and psychical field, unfortunately." You cover the source back up as a mercy to Lucy. "They couldn't find her hand before they autopsied her body. Found this under a plank in her bedroom."

"Handy," George said dryly.

Lucy glared at him. "Not the time."

"I'm not sorry," he replied.

"You could have mentioned this sooner," Lockwood interjected, turning his head to you.

You gave a smile in response. "I think it's just another piece of evidence that proves someone had been very angry with her."

"Did the academy teach you to smile so morbidly?" George questioned.

"No, that's just her face." Lockwood said gravely.

George spared you a look that resembled concern. "Pity."

You dropped your smile and walked passed a chuckling Lockwood.

—

Lucy couldn't hear a thing while there was light out. Even with the chain net off, all she could hear was George's heavy breathing.

Lockwood had everyone sat in the disparaging kitchen to have tea and some biscuits before night fell. All the courtresy of Lockwood & Co., of course. Papers spread across the table, rehashing the details in hopes that it would help Lucy discern which questions to prioritize once she made contact with Griffith.

George squinted his eyes at the court transcripts. "There's an awful lot of witnesses."

"It was a big case. Griffith did wonders to connect the world of science and the psychic." You dipped a biscuit into your overly sweetened tea; it was not so coincidentally your favorite brand, and took a bite. "She inspired me to study. It's been a dream of mine to solve her case."

George nodded with the most plastic smile on his face. "Wonderful. We're fulfilling childhood wishes while Lucy experiences rediscovered trauma."

You sighed and sunk into the rotting seat. There was no salvaging an acquaintanceship with George at this rate. You lulled your head to look at Lockwood. He spared you a smile but looked away just as quick.

"Don't interrupt me, that's all I ask," Lucy said as the clock struck six.

Papers were put away, circles were drawn, several more candles were lit, and Lucy hunkered down in the lavatory. The door was closed to give her room to work, leaving you to stand between Lockwood and George. You hobbled from heel to heel as you eyed their rapiers and their weary wandering.

The silence reminded you too much of home. Words poured out of you to chase away your parents's images in your mind. "How strong are Ms. Carlyle's talents? I've only heard heresay about her abilities."

"None of your business—"

"She's the best Listener in the field," Lockwood answered. Even in the dim light, you could see his smile pull higher. It made your heart do funny things while your stomach dropped. "I ought to think she'd be on parr with Marissa Fittes, given enough time. Maybe even better."

George nodded in agreement, turning his head as the ghost-lamps outside flickered to life. The green hue bled into the room, dimming the atmosphere even more.

You leaned against the wall as a chill crept out from under the lavatory door. "I have no doubt that we'll be able to get our answer then."

"Oh! Ow!" George exclaimed.

You didn't have a rapier or any form of weapon but you turned to him like you could help, just to find he was simply hugging himself.

"Got really cold all of a sudden. Felt like something passed through me," he said. He looked down at his thermometer. "Temp's dropped significantly. This visitor is a force."

"That's why she got the best of the best to do it," Lockwood boasted, winking your way and changing his stance as a spectral glow began to flicker under the door.

"Do we have a guess on what we could be facing?" you asked, backing away.

Lockwood didn't miss the tremoring in your hands. "No, but where where is a lack of knowledge, there is faith. We'll make it out this alive."

"Oh," you laughed unhumorously. "how reassuring."

"He's good at that," George added flatly.

Lockwood held out an arm, guiding you to stand between him and George. Their backs turned to you, their rapiers raised and at the ready.

"Here," Lockwood didn't look away from the dark as he unclasped a salt-bomb and a flask of lavender water. He held them out and you took them with shaking hands.

Malaise stalked in on you three, making the hairs on your arm stand. You gripped the salt-bomb and lavender water for dear life. Pressure squeezed down on your chest and your heart raced for a danger unseen.

"This much activity before ten? Griffith must have had qualms about dying." George said.

Lockwood chuckled, nodding along. "Wonder how nobody reported this much activity if the source was hidden all this time."

"Nobody wanted to visit this place when the killer was still at large," you answered, struggling to keep your tone even. "Some kids started some rumors during the court proceedings. They said someone just wanted the house badly enough to kill for it."

"That would be unfortunate," George said. "Imagine all that commotion over a killer who simply wanted real estate."

You tried to stiffle a laugh but failed. "It does sound ridiculous."

Lockwood chanced a glance at you, catching your faulty smile before a scream shook the Earth.

"Lucy?"

"Lucy!"

"Ms. Carlyle?"

She came bursting out of the lavatory, two fingers pinching the mummified hand, and looking quite disgruntled before she stood in the boy's protective circle.

"We might need Little Miss Doctor to stand in the iron circle," Lucy said, fumbling for her rapier and holding the source a ways from her body. Frost was gripping at her gloves.

The plan was scraped with one glance to the circle. It had been thrashed by Griffith from the time Lucy came tumbling out of the lavatory.

"Type two," all three of them agreed.

"What happened?" asked George. His eyes darted down the hallway with more apprehension than before.

"She got angrier and angrier the more names I mentioned," she answered. "I felt like she was about to drown me."

You took the mummified hand from her grasp. The sigh she let out was laughable. "Did she say who killed her?"

Lucy shook her head as she readied herself. Miasma was building. Fear gripped you like nothing you'd experienced before. When you touched the hand, that feeling multiplied. You heard murmurs but nothing substantial.

Shell...

Kill me...

Secret...

You couldn't stitch those words together to come to any conclusion. You were crossing your fingers that Lucy could. The possibilities kept you up at night. If you weren't thinking about your estranged friendship with Lockwood, you were thinking of getting justice for this woman you didn't even know. The cold pinching your skin from the source was a reminder that it wasn't over.

Like a light in the dark, Lucy looked at you and said, "She kept nodding her head whenever I asked if some person killed her; She said yes to Rodney. She said yes to Gasley—"

"So even she doesn't know who killed her?" George laughed emptily. "Brilliant."

"We might have to investigate more on our own to find more details." Lockwood nudged your side. You thought it was to shield you from the cold but that would be too presumptuous. He had bumped into you to swipe away the apparition of Iris Griffith.

She came and went like a zap of electricity. Frantic and unpredictable. Every time you caught sight of her mauled face, your heart picked up. How these three hadn't double over from heart failure was a mystery. Your knees gave up when she'd appeared beside you.

Your eyes watched her in slow motion. The rippling gashes in her plasma, her sneering face, her slashed dress... She was a hairsbreadth away from you before your instincts kicked in.

Your blood fell to your feet but your hand reached into your pocket in a panic, saving yourself as you pulled out a silver button. You threw it at her face and, fortunately, it was enough to disperse her ghost.

Lockwood let out a loud breath of relief but jumped back into the rhythm when her apparition reappeared. "Was that my mother's button? Nevermind. Time to make our exit! Luce, where's the chain net?"

She clicked her tongue. "Dropped it. Her manifestation appeared right in front of me."

"Go get it then!" George rushed, swiping at the air and setting off the first salt-bomb of the night.

"I would if I could," Lucy replied with a bite in her tone. She grimaced at the hand in your vice. "It's in the toilet."

"Pick it up! You've held worse." George backed into Lucy. They switched places.

"It's best if you don't," you advised. "This place has been deserted for years. Who knows what kind of bacteria's been growing in the bowl."

"Oh, you have to know everything, don't you?" George hissed.

Lucy didn't snap at you this time. "Listen to the doctor, George! Did we bring any more chain nets?"

Lockwood reached for your shirt, tugging you towards him as Griffith bit the air where your head would have been. He held you between his arms as blood rushed to your ears and cheeks. Lockwood's breath tickled your ear. The warmth of your face was a juxtaposition to the cold encasing your hands. "My bag! It's a bit away. We'll have to split up."

"Try not to die," George said with false sweetness. He and Lucy ran the opposite way you and Lockwood had.

Griffith chased them. The farther she got, the more you remembered how to breath.

"Calm down, cherry cheeks, ghosts can feed off of your fear," he tried to pacify you. The rasp of his voice evened your heart rate enough for you to get your brain turning again.

"Right. You're right..." You looked ahead, through the darkness and could barely make out the lumps on the ground. "Chain, we have to get the chain net."

"I've got you," he assured.

Even if your pivotal functions had returned to normal, your legs hadn't gotten the memo. Getting up made your knees buckle and legs feel like cooked pasta. As if the cold eating your fingers weren't bad enough.

Lockwood caught you around the waist, holding your weight while he held his rapier at the ready. "Hold on to the source and remember the salt-bomb."

You nodded firmly, clutching both to your chest as you two made a joint effort to get to the bags.

You were almost there, just passed the iron circle that Griffith had broken through, when she appeared above you like an unwanted mistletoe.

You screamed, Lockwood said something to console you, you threw the salt-bomb without taking off the clip, and Lockwood quickly sliced off the top to set it off. Salt sprayed over you two. His body folded over yours as it showered down.

Griffith's yells faded for a moment, a moment long enough for you to slide forward and grab the chain net that clung onto the side pocket of Lockwood's kit. Your hand wrapped around it, Iris's spectral glow kissed your skin, you felt the chill of it — she was colder than her source.

Suddenly, Lockwood had tugged you back towards him. His pull was strong enough to knock you onto your side. It would bruise but at least you weren't ghost-touched.

You wrapped the mummified hand in the net and sighed as the glow faded away and the screaming ceased. The frostbite on your fingers were worth the pain. You were alive.

Silence and heavy breathing ensued.

You rolled the rest of the way on your back, heaving for breath you won't get back. Not while Lockwood remained hovering over you.

The candles had been blown out in the earlier attack. The only light came from the ghost-lamps that sifted through the broken windows. Everything was in that ugly shade of bottle green... but that didn't make him any less magnificent.

Sweat collected on his brow, his mouth was agape—chasing for breath, and his lips were curled in that kind of smirk you could only dream about. Holding your breath did little for your racing heart.

"You okay, cherry cheeks?" His lips moved like their one purpose was to enrapture you.

You nodded dumbly, unable to find your words.

—

Portland Row was cloaked by the night when you four made your escape.

The three of them headed for the 35th while you bound up the steps to your parents' place. George and Lucy gained enough respect for you to wish you a good night before heading in, successfully tuckered out. Lockwood remained, staring at you with his hands in his trouser pockets.

He raised his brows at you then motioned to your front door. "Head on in. It would weigh on my conscience if I don't see you home safe. Your parents would have my head."

"You..." you paused at the fog before you. It was colder out than you thought. "You called me cherry cheeks earlier."

His stance turned tense. He rocked on his heels before he mustered a smile. "Old habits die hard... Sorry if it made you uncomfortable."

"It's okay," you reassured, returning the smile. "I missed it."

"You don't mind then?"

You shook your head. "Never did."

His smile broadened, teasing a glimpse of his pearly whites before he looked at his shoes to hide it. "See you tomorrow then, cherry."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you stared at him. These days, both of you were tall enough to see each other clearly over the wrought-iron fencing. You missed the days you had to tiptoe to show him a smile.

You had no problems shooting him a smile from over the fence. You had no problems coming home to your perfectionist parents. You had no problems imagining your world without Lockwood in it... but you missed him.

Now that the events kept replaying in your head, all you could think while you looked at him was I miss you, I'm sorry. I miss you, I'm sorry. I miss you, I'm sorry.

Lockwood had the talent of knowing when you wanted to say something but couldn't bring yourself to. He forgot how when you had grown apart. Now, in the quiet of the night and the privacy of the stars, it came back to him like the memories he tamped down by closing his window.

"What's wrong?" He asked, setting his hands on the freezing iron fence.

You feel the knot in your throat and the tears in your eyes. It hurts to hold back. Your lungs are lined with spikes as you take a breath. It feels like you're cracking your ribs open as you cave and admit to him, "I don't want to go home to them."

It may have been a trick of the light, but you swear there were tears in his eyes, too. His smile had changed. It was the same one you were accustomed to—the one he used to welcome you into his parents's house all those years ago. Like no time had passed at all, he beckons you. "Come on in then. 35 Portland Row is always open for you. It's your home, too."

—

One night's sleep on 35 Portland Row's most uncomfortable couch was worlds better than the comfy bed in your own cold home. You stretch like a cat to work out all the kinks in your joints, smiling at the air for no reason other than the happiness that filled you the moment you realized you were at the Lockwoods'. Your frosted hands had been wrapped up over a very sleepy catch-up the night before.

Ambient music was playing in your head as you took in your surroundings. The browned books and the disarray of trinkets left all around you were more home than anything you were used to.

It felt like you were wading through the most pleasant dream.

It all screeched to a halt the moment you swung your foot down and stepped on something squishy and loud—it groaned like a beast.

Terror clawed out of your throat in the form of a scream. Juttery legs hopped onto the back of the couch to gain height, and weary eyes looked down at the monster under the bed— er, sofa.

The lump inflated, made of patchwork quilt... until that fell away to reveal a very disheveled and very grumpy Anthony Lockwood.

"Ow," he simply said.

Your soul returned to your body. You offered a little laugh as you eased back down on the couch. "Sorry, Anthony."

"Don't worry yourself," he assured, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "I was the one who snuck down here."

You were a kid when you admitted to being afraid of being alone. It was thoughtful of him to come down here to keep you company when he had a perfectly good bed upstairs.

With a fluttering belly and a sheepish smile, you reached out and patted his sleepy head. "You've always been good to me. I should be more grateful."

He opened one eye to look at you while he rubbed the sleep out of the other. A corner of his lip tipped up into a lazy smile. "You can start with a 'thank you', darling."

"Thank you," you said all too quickly. The deeper octave and the rasp in his voice had finally hit home. It made your cheeks warm.

Judging by the growing smile on his face, he had accomplished what he was intending to.

Your shoulders jumped. A knock broke through the calmness of the air. You turned and saw George in an apron and kitchen mitts. "Are you two going to give each other goo-goo eyes all morning or are you joining us for breakfast?"

—

The investigation resumed as soon as the breakfast plates had been cleaned.

You split into two groups. George and Lucy were off to the archives to work out all of Griffith's social connections, and you and Lockwood were off to the hospital to look for documents that contained the same M.O. or similar timeline to Griffith's case.

"I thought police were the only ones allowed to hold information like this," Lockwood admitted as you two shuffled through files upon files in the hospital archives.

"Most of it, they do. I just hope there's something here relevant to our case," you reply. "If we have to hand this off to detectives, DEPRAC will get involved. They'll just close the case and leave it be."

He nudges up to you after a good three hours of finding absolutely nothing. "Let's look at the last few cases she solved. Could have a clue."

"All of those are solved though," you respond. You were biting your nails at this point. You had to find something before questioning Griffith's ghost again—for Lucy's sanity and for the group's safety.

Lockwood took you by the shoulders just as you began to imagine the worst. "Cherry," he said to snap your attention to him. "If we can't find anything, I don't want you joining us on this one."

"What?" You back away from him in your incredulity. "I helped last night, didn't I? This is my investigation as much as it is yours, Anthony."

"This visitor is a type two, cher. It's not as simple as solving a case. This means lives are in the balance—"

"I'm aware." You put your foot down. You slapped his hands away and shimmy a thick stack from under the desk. "I'm aware of the risks and I consent to them." You pick up the one at the top of the stack and shove it into his chest. He had always liked the curiosity in your eyes, so he was taken aback by the void in them as you looked at him. "I have enough people treating me like I belong at home or behind the safety of iron fences—I do not need you to coddle me like that. My parents do it enough."

He watched your back as you look through the second file in the stack. "You know I don't mean to coddle you..."

"You're doing it right now." Your tone carries a point. "You're telling me to sit this one out because it's too dangerous."

"It's risk assessment—"

"You're underestimating me—"

He slams his hand down on the paper you're idly reading. Bringing your attention to him. "I do this because I don't want to lose you."

Your anger falls away.

The reminder of how how much he'd lost occurs to you. It makes your arms grow limp and your heart to shrink. You can only stare at him with those same eyes he can't unsee even when his are closed. He hates the way he's made sadness swim in them. "Anthony..."

He said your name with the same caution. "You want to know why I became distant?"

"People grow apart when they grow up, Anthony. It's not your fault—"

He knelt beside you, laying his heart out right then and there. "I couldn't stand watching you with your perfect family. They always said any field tampering with the supernatural was a death sentence. I hated how they were right. I hated how they made you so small. I couldn't watch you like that. I hated that you turned into a doctor, just like them. I hated how they were so bad and so cruel, but they were always right."

You were quelled into silence. Biting your lip to keep the tears in. He held your hands delicately, careful of your injury. His touch was light but you knew you would feel it for hours. You held his hands with as much strength as you could muster, even as your skin burned and screeched for reprieve, you did not let go. "They are wrong about you..." you whisper to him.

He went on, plastering on a smile you knew was fake. It sheared your heart to know that. "I knew they were right when they said you would do great things... But they said so many other things that hurt. I couldn't stand being around. It just made me remember that no one was around to defend me anymore. I'm sorry that I had to leave you out, too. Seeing you reminded me of everything they said and I... I couldn't shake it."

Your eyes hurt so much. You gave up somewhere along the way and let the tears fall. "I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to fight them. I wanted to say so many things but they've always been so- so..."

"Scary?" he supplied with a pathetic laugh. "I know. Don't blame yourself."

You bobbed your head, sniffing as tears went. "You don't have to apologize for all that, Anthony. I'm so sorry, I didn't stand by you when you needed me. But I am going to see this case through to the end, I've dedicated my life to it."

Even when you were hiccuping and heaving for air, you wiped away the tear that tracked down his cheek. His heart surrendered to you then.

"Okay... And I'm sorry, I shouldn't have ignored you like I did," he said again, just because he felt like you needed to hear it.

"No. I'm sorry," you reply. Vehemently wiping his eyes. "Anthony, come on. Don't cry. I'm not worth crying for."

"Oh, don't say that," he said lightly. "You're worth everything, cher."

Both of you manage a smile but neither of you are well enough to hold it. You laugh at each other's attempts.

You came clean to him too: How your parents had made you the sun of their solar system; How they poured their knowledge into you like you were a cup meant to hold their images in vivid color; How they moulded you into being the projection of a golden girl—their magnum opus. You carried the weight of their world. Most days, they acted more like teachers than parents. It got worse the older you got. Trophies and medals took the places of photographs until all you became was your achievements.

"They were so hard on you..." he said slowly. It was just sinking I just how trapped you were. You were cornered in a place that was supposed to covet you.

"Still, I should have defended you. I hate that I didn't," you said, wiping your nose with the back of your sleeve. It was the most ungraceful thing he'd seen you do but it brought him back to the cherry pie incident, and he found that he couldn't even think of you in a bad light.

"It's water under the bridge. I hate your parents, but there is one thing we can agree on," Lockwood said, cracking a semblance of a smile.

You cocked your brow at him. Teary eyes and all, he still found you as cute as a button.

"I would make you the sun of my solar system, too. They got that right."

With a snort, you said, "You're good at buttering people up, you know that?" You shoved his shoulder to shut him up but he caught the red on your ears and the smile you hid with a tilt of your head.

—

When you rendezvoused with George and Lucy, it was around 5:40 in the afternoon. The sun was dipping and the ghoulish were about to walk the earth. If George or Lucy noticed the redness in your eyes, they said nothing of it. You hurried along inside the stranded house and relayed newfound information.

"The last case Griffith reviewed involved a woman named Shelly Carson. She immigrated from America and died at 17 while she was interning for Hayes Inc." You flipped the file open on the kitchen table over tea. "They profiled the case to be a suicide but I don't think Griffith agreed." Your finger pointed to the lower left corner where Griffith would put her stamp of approval. The line was void of it. "She wrote 'Garrote not rope??' on the unofficial report. Carson's case could have been a murder."

The information set off a spark in George. He was rubbing invisible dirt from his glasses and finished doing so as you concluded your assessment. "We found a Shelly Carson in our search too," he said. Everyone lent their ears. "She was friends with Griffith in childhood. Alongside Rodney and Gasley. The four of them were close friends from well-off families."

"Ah, they're rich. Explains a lot," Lucy snorted. George ignored her quip.

"Turns out Rodney and Carson were both interested in Gasley. Rodney moved on with some bloke named Jerome Holt, but she suspected him of having an affair with Carson. Holt proposed to prove her wrong."

Lockwood tilted his head. "Sounds like gossip, Georgie."

George brandished an old leather diary. "We tracked down Howard Gasley. He gave us this."

Lockwood lit up. Sitting up with renewed energy. "How did you manage that?"

Lucy grinned. "The death of his girlfriend weighed on his conscience. All I had to do was tell him that her ghost can't be put to rest. Spilled like a waterfall after that."

"So, he did kill her?" You asked.

"Well, that's the difficult bit... The rest of the pages were ripped out and he didn't explicitly say he did. Maybe he did do it, he likes ripping things." George revealed, pointing the diary at the mummified hand in the net. "I think he's involved, one way or another."

Lockwood looked at it, then looked at Lucy. "What do you think, Luce?"

She looked at all three of you with a gleam in her eye. "I think we're about to find our killer."

—

The set-up was same as last night, except the iron circle had been extra fortified to fit all four of you in case things get out of hand. Lockwood stuffed lavenders into your pockets as Lucy lit the the candles.

"If you die tonight, I will not forgive you," Lockwood said as he put a salt-bomb in your hand.

"Same goes for you," you retort with a smile.

He returns your grin, tapping your sides and making your heart flutter before he sets off to help George with inventory.

You cross the chains to help Lucy in the lucky room chosen to host the seance in. With all the furniture pushed to the walls, the sitting room was the epitome of morbid. The carpet was patterned in a way that made it perfect for summoning and the cobwebs embellishing the place contributed to the unsettling ambiance. Lucy herself was lighting candles around the source. You took a pack of matches and helped light the rest of them.

"How are you feeling?" you asked as you lit the last candle and killed the match.

"Confident," she replied. She even spared you a smile. "And you?"

"Scared. Excited, mostly."

She bobs her head. She had a far-away look in her eye before she asked, "Your room is an attic room, correct?"

The nature of the question surprised you. "Yes. Why?"

A smile teased her lips. "I knew it." She looked at you like she saw right through you. "Lockwood was loitering near the window this morning. Just thought it was odd."

You hear him in your mind then — cherry cheeks. Warmth crawled up your neck as Lockwood and George entered the room.

"What are you two blabbering about?" George questioned, off-put by Lucy's smile and your flushed face.

"Nothing," you said together, one more pitched than the other.

George didn't look convinced.

Lockwood spoke up. " You ladies ready? Let's catch ourselves a killer."

The door was left open with an heavy stopper, giving you ample room to run to the iron circle in case things took a turn for the worst. Though, you doubted it would. The other three shared the sentiment. Some kind of energy buzzed between you four and livened the room, something that wasn't there the night before.

Lucy looked between you and Lockwood with a knowing expression you only ever saw from Jessica Lockwood. It was gone as quick as it came but the brief blast from the past made you dizzy. The resemblance must have been what made Lockwood so comfortable with her.

Lockwood had crossed the room and stood by you. Close enough to catch you if you stumbled forward in your daze.

He glanced at his wrist to check the time. "7:30's a good time. Ready, Lucy?"

"Ready," she confirmed. With a tug, the iron net came off of Griffith's mummified hand.

George and Lockwood reconsidered their stances with their rapiers as warmth was immediately sapped from the room. It was akin to jumping into a lake without testing the waters. Blood rushed to your ears. The whispering began again.

"We're here to help you," Lucy said calmly.

Wind began to pick up despite the windows being closed. Lucy persevered. "Iris Griffith, I know that you're experiencing a great injustice. Let me help you. Talk to me."

Lucy closed her eyes. You trust that she was establishing a connection with Griffith. The chill subsided by a fraction, her eyes were moving rapidly like you do when you're in the middle of a dream.

"There's a spectral glow behind you, George." Lockwood caught that faster than you. He was glaring down at the opposite corner of the room.

George's face remained impassive. "You'll tell me if she gets too close."

"Shush!" Lucy threw a hand up in the air. "Shell... Shelly? Yes, what about Shelly Carson? She died before you. You saw her case. They got the autopsy wrong, didn't they?"

A faraway scream interrupted the silence. You fumbled forward. Lockwood caught your arm. "Careful there, cherry cheeks." You lived up to your nickname.

"They all kept... Secret...?" Lucy murmured. "They all killed you to keep a secret?"

If this were a cartoon, you imagine everyone to have exclamation marks above their heads. Finally, some of the mystery began to come into focus. Who are 'they' and what secret were they so desperate to keep?

"Secret... Shelly Carson?" Lucy's expression lightened and the room grew slightly warmer. "Yes! Their secret is Shelly Carson. No? Oh, then what— They killed her to keep the secret... then paid people to say they were innocent."

"Rich people," George tutted.

The anticipation was killing you. All those nights of research, pouring over case files and autopsies were boiling down to this. You gripped Lockwood's sleeve to ground yourself. He glanced at your hand, worried you were seeing something he wasn't, but felt a smile twitching on his lips when he noticed the elation on yours.

Lucy'a voice pierced the air. "They killed her to keep what secret?"

The silence, the anticipation, and the chill in the room melded.

"Rodney pregnant? With Gasley's—" Lucy shut herself up. It was like a bad episode of a telenovela, but this was real, and someone had died because of it. "And when you were about to uncover the truth about Shelly... Rodney and Gasley they got you, too? I'm sorry to hear that. Gasley must have regrets. He had left a diary and... your, ah, hand so we could uncover your story."

It wasn't the most peaceful way to end a talk with a ghost. As soon as Lucy finished the conversation, the apparition of Iris Griffith had appeared once more. Contrary to your hypothesis, finding out the motive and her killers did not put her to rest at all.

She wailed louder than the previous night and zipped about even faster than before. Nothing Lockwood & Co. couldn't handle though. You showered the room with lavender and salt as Lockwood & Co. danced with a ghost.

—

You all appreciated a bit of silence after getting your ears blown off by a visitor. The world clearly didn't like you enough to grant the request, judging by the hunched and fuming figures of your parents blocking the door to 35 Portland Row. They sported crossed arms and crossed expressions. Your mother, specifically, was blowing steam from her ears.

Seeing your sweaty and worn form only confirmed their suspicions: You'd been running around with ghost hunters.

"You ungrateful brat..." your mother muttered.

Lucy stepped forward, blocking her way to you. She was hardened by her own experiences and least expected the horrid woman to turn on her own daughter for simply doing something outside of white-tiled establishments. You were grateful for it.

That only stirred the pot for your parents.

"We sheltered you, spoiled you, and educated you to be the lady you are today. You are our legacy." Your father harumphs forward. "We made you what you are and you would throw that all away by risking your stupid little life for some miniscule ghost adventure!"

George is the next to block their way. He wasn't that protective type, but he did look the part when he wanted to. "It was her childhood dream. Let her live." Leave it to George to be forward.

Your mother stamped her feet. The display was so awfully childish you had to look away. "You are children who don't know a single thing about building a foundation for a good life! You are going to run my daughter to ruin!"

Because of her display, Lockwood & Co. weren't so intimidated by her anymore.

Lockwood had stepped ahead, completing the wall that prevented your iron-fisted parents from getting to you ever again. "We're the best psychical agents in London. We expect a little more respect, doctor."

You could hear the smile in his voice. You couldn't help but smile, too.

With a last burst of anger, your father yelled to you. "You either come home or you find your own way. I'd rather live without a daughter than live with a disappointing one."

It shouldn't hurt as much as it did, but you had given your whole life to live up to the version of you they were dreaming of. Even if you had achieved all that, all it took was having a moment of autonomy for them to turn against you and disregard your sacrifices.

Lockwood had turned to you with a face so full of hope, it brought you back to the other night at the horrid dinner party and the night you snuck out to pick apples. After all that's happened, you found it in yourself to steel your resolve and face your father with bravery that felt unnatural but oh-so addicting.

"I'm going home," you told them.

You walked passed a stunned George and a speechless Lucy. Lockwood was far bluer than the two, but you shot him a smile that put all his worries to rest.

When you were kids, he was the one to take you by the hand and drag you off on a new adventure. This time, it was you so took his hand and pulled him passed your parents's skyscraping figures and into the comforts of 35 Portland Row.

Home, at last.

The first thing you saw as you pulled Lockwood through the threshold was his smile, radiant as ever. He didn't give you much time to admire it. He swooped down and stole your first kiss before you could even blink.

You could hear Lucy and George laugh over your parents plights. You were tired, sweaty, and covered in salt but all you could think of was; you should have done this sooner.

The next morning, you submitted the evidence and psychical report to the relevant authorities, convicting Celia Rodney and Howard Gasley for their crimes. Griffith's source was relinquished from your possession and burned at the Fittes Furnaces, marking the end of Griffith's case. It was the best thing you could do to bring her peace.

Shortly after, Lockwood and Co. welcomed you as the company's official forensic consultant, and in 35 Portland Row, you were finally comfortable in your own skin.

You and Lockwood now stand on the same side of the fence. There is no need shyly avoid your peering eyes when he could have the satisfaction of seeing them flutter close as he kisses you.

Thought, it is nice to remember that all this started with those peering eyes over wrought-iron fences. You and Lockwood reminisce those days over a cherry pie with extra ice cream or an afternoon picking apples from the backyard.

Every now and again, Lockwood would toss an apple over to your parents's side of the fence to scare them.

⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

LOVELOCKED (PEOWIF BONUS CHAPTER)

NOTE ➺ Thank you to everyone who made it through to the end! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it. It's the first time I completed a project this big so I hope it brings you some joy. To everyone mourning the seasons we'll never get, I'm with you. To my fellow writers, I'd appreciate a tip or two to improve my stories. To everyone in general, may you continue finding fics that comfort you 💙

#— ❨ 🌺 ❩ 𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐙𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐀 ₊˚.༄ #anthony lockwood x you #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #anthony lockwood angst

[peapodsinspace]

I saw some stuff about people’s art styles y after they watched jojos- so here’s a bunch of old (jjba) art of mine! You can sorta see it become less cartoony as we go on, too hehehe

Starting with the first jojo fanart I ever made

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Bruno!! The story with this is that I drew it for my sister before I’d seen golden wind! I was like halfway through stardust crusaders at the time I think

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I PROMISE i didn’t just draw gw characters- (it’s worth noting there are a lot more drawings I’ve done in between the ones in showing)

I like the mista I drew for this :]

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I remember LOVING this one still do tbh)

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Unfinished sketch for a roller derby au effie and I came up with forever ago (the empty space between oku and koichi is where josuke should be)

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Now this is “post jojo hiatus” aka when i started getting back into jjba! This is one of the first drawings I did (that one of kakyoin inspired by a tarot card is the first I think, but it’s not here cus I didn’t want to add something with blood)

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Weather 💖💖 this was one of my first few drawing requests

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MY FAVORITE DRAWING EVER!!!

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…maybe this one’s my favorite

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aaaand one of the most recent ones!

Anyways I also wanted to say that posting on tumblr as been really fun so far!!!! And yall have been really nice too :]

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Uhhhh I guess I’m just tryna say thanks for being nice :] and hi to all the friends n moots I’ve made!!! And just anyone I’ve interacted with.. yeah

Stay cringe or whatever

bye y’all! And

Enjoy!

#jjba fanart #steel ball run #art #jjba #my art #vento aureo #fanart #battle tendency #golden wind #purple haze feedback #stone ocean #diamond is unbreakable #doodles #old art #jojo no kimyou na bouken #bruno bucciarati #pannacotta fugo #guido mista #giorno giovanna #joseph joestar #okuyasu nijimura #koichi hirose #yukako yamagishi #reimi sugimoto #rohan kishibe #jjba weather report #sheila e #gyro zeppeli #jolyne cujoh #alt text provided

[clambuoyance]

Do u want to talk abt ur ocs..... I actually followed you initially bc they seemed so interesting and silly and I want to know more if you feel like sharing :)

I still can’t believe some ppl follow me for my ocs bc it’s usually for my fanart so this is really nice to hear! I have a couple stories/universes but the main one I’ve been…developing (it’s on and off) since I was like 13/14 is about these two kids named Keiko and Rolin!! Im still doing a lot of world and lore building but the main gist is that Rolin is a teenage boy turning 16 who returns to his hometown to live with his aunt and meets a strange young girl named Keiko (debating on making her 10-12 idk she was originally 10). I won’t go too much into like Lore stuff but she has like..my own version of clairvoyance. They are kind of opposites, with Rolin being introverted and jaded, and Keiko being loud and optimistic but they are both silly.

I think it’s been said before but the whole driving relationship of the story is the two of them going on adventures throughout the city and solving mysteries while simultaneously becoming family and finding a real home within each other and the people they’ve met and learned to love 😚

Now the story is centered around Rolin and Keiko, but a big focus is on the cast of characters that fill mostly Rolins life. Mira and Artie were friends with Rolin when they were kids before Rolin left with his mom, and all three grew up and have been living their own lives, but when Rolin comes back they get a chance to reconnect (with Keiko’s help). Valoryn (Val) is also new in town, and befriends Rolin and Keiko. This is just a messy fast doodle of them I have better art in my oc tags🙏

Some old sketches

The other major cast is Rolin’s family, and Rolin has always been Asian so as I worked on the story his family kept getting more and more relevant especially with a major theme of the story being about the connections you have with people in your life so like I can’t leave them out. And I’ve never settled on an Asian ethnicity until recently where I was like I might as well make him Filipino so I can base his family off my own🫡 Cousins (both blood and not) that are years older than you but treat you like siblings and give u silly nicknames 🫶

Now Diana (or Deedee) is one of those characters I’ve had for a long time, and I made her because I liked those laidback mentor figures in anime (like Qrow from rwby) and wanted a laidback lady one 🤷🏻‍♀️ she also has some Misato from nge influence. She has always been written to be a mentor figure to Rolin and Keiko, and at one point I think I was going to make her his actual aunt but stuck to her being just a cousin so I could write about her relationship with her mom 🫶 Unlike her brother Darius, she does not live with her mom and Rolin has to go out of his way to meet her.

And Rolin’s parents’ story aren’t the main focus (they aren’t really present themselves in the main story) and it’s mostly just flashback stuff but they r silly and sad and I love drawing them 😼

I could go into more detail but that’s an overview of some of the characters

#clam answers #my ocs #clam ocs

[smoshgoshbefosh]

A Vegan Hallmark Movie

Pairing: Ian/Anthony

Word Count: 1909

Summary: During one of their live streams, Anthony has a sudden realization. It should be shocking but, as with everything with Ian, it is comfortable.

Notes: Can you tell I haven't been able to stop thinking about Ian's Hallmark story in the 'Bluetooth Speaker Ruins Date' live watch party? Because it's been two months and I haven't. Anyways, my first Ianthony fanfic. I actually had a lot of fun writing this. You can also find it on AO3 here.

For nearly twenty years, the fans have been telling Anthony he's in love with Ian. For nearly twenty years, Anthony denied them each and every time. Of course he didn't love Ian, not like that. Ian was his best friend, he loved him, but just as a friend. 

Then there was the time Anthony didn't love Ian. Not as a friend, not as a lover, not at all. They had grown apart and it killed Anthony. He always told himself he was glad to be away from Defy, to be away from Smosh, to be away from Ian. 

In truth, Anthony could never be happy being away from Ian. No matter how much he tried to convince himself he was, the reminders always came back to him. He would see an old photo, an old video, or even just think of Ian, and his heart would break all over again. It took a long time for Anthony to finally admit to himself he did miss Ian, because he loved his old friend. 

Contrary to what the proverbs would tell you, distance does not make the heart grow fonder. What does make the heart grow fonder is taking the time to know yourself. Anthony knew he never could have reconnected with Ian if he didn't take that time. If it weren't for the years of therapy and self reflection, he wouldn't be back with his best friend that he loved. 

To love someone else, romantically or otherwise, is to love yourself. Anthony knows those six years apart had to happen for he and Ian to be as close as they were. He knows he needed those years to get to know himself for him to realize he was in love with Ian. 

Anthony realized he loved Ian as soon as they reconnected. The first time they started talking like old times, Anthony felt a piece of him heal. His entire body felt warm because he had his sunshine back. He knew he loved Ian, what he didn't know was that he was in love with Ian. And he did not expect to realize it on a live stream in front of thousands of people. 

Ian was a rambler. Often, he would find a topic and he would just keep going. There had been many times Ian would start telling some story that would end up as a sketch. Anthony loved listening to his rambles so, when Ian started making up an elaborate Hallmark movie involving two characters from their most recent sketch, Anthony was invested. He watched Ian with what their fans called ‘heart eyes’ and that was when he realized. 

Ian glanced at him. Just one sideways glance to check if Anthony was still listening. When he knew he was, Ian lit up like a candle and Anthony knew. 

Anthony watched Ian light up and one thought crossed his mind, ‘Fuck, I love this man.’

The thought should've startled him. After so many years denying the fan base, it should have been startling. These weren't the thoughts friends had for friends, but it didn't scare him. If anything, Anthony was even more comfortable in the thought. It was as if he had finally taken down his very last wall and, at long last, he could finally be free. 

‘I love Ian,’ he thought, ‘I’m in love with Ian.’

The thought felt comfortable in his mind. It had its own place, and Anthony had to wonder if it always had that place. How long had he been in love with Ian and hadn’t even realized? It had to have been awhile, or else Anthony wouldn’t have been as comfortable in the thought as he was. 

Anthony was comfortable in the fact that he loved Ian. All the old love stories say, the moment you realize, is the moment you freak out, but Anthony was simply calm. Had it been anybody else but Ian, he would’ve been freaking out. He would’ve been having an internal meltdown and trying to keep himself calm because they were on camera. 

But, it wasn’t anybody else. It was Ian. His best friend, his love, Ian. Anthony felt an entire sunset come to light in his chest but it was nothing compared to the light right in front of him. Every time Ian would risk a glance at him, Anthony swore he lit up even further. His story only got deeper because he knew Anthony was listening. 

Anthony spent the entire rest of the livestream thinking about how much he loved Ian. It was something brand new, yet familiar all the same. The thought made him warm and comfortable. He barely even realized they were finished with the livestream until Erin was taking away their microphones. 

“Dude, are you alright?” Ian glanced at him. 

Anthony looked into Ian’s eyes and wondered if blue had always been his favorite color, “Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just looked zoned out there,” Ian shrugged, ��Was my story too boring for you?”

Ian always masked his insecurities with a joke. His tone might be teasing, but Anthony could sense the worry behind it. Ian had just taken up the majority of the live stream meant to be about their video with his story. He doubted just how much the fans loved it- and he doubted just how much Anthony loved him. 

“You’re not boring,” Anthony smiled fondly, “And neither are your stories. I happen to enjoy every single one of them, thank you.”

Ian smiled slightly, “Thanks. I feel bad, though. The viewers all came for us to talk about the video and I dominated the entire stream.”

“I promise you, they loved it just as much as I did.”

With the camera lights off, the room was shadowy, but Anthony could still see the blush crossing Ian’s cheeks. He cleared his throat, fiddling with his hands in his lap, “Hey, I’m starving, wanna order food?”

“Of course, what’re you thinking?”

They did this almost every night. After the last video of the day, they’d get food together and go back to one of their places. It often ended in a sleepover or someone going home way too late to work the next day. It was only now, after Anthony’s most comfortable realization, that he noticed just how domestic he and Ian were. He wondered how long they had been that way. 

“What about that cafe near my place?” Ian was already standing, “You know, the one with the vegan pasta you really like?”

“Oh, shit, I can’t ever say no to Amelie’s.”

“I knew you couldn’t. Come on, dude, my laptop is in my office, we can order it from there.”

Most of the Smosh studio was empty. The rest of the cast had all gone home, and the only crew left were those taking down their earlier livestream. Ian and Anthony were essentially alone as they made their way to Ian’s office. 

Anthony didn’t have to think about it, he didn’t really think about it at all. It felt just as natural as loving Ian to grab his hand. In the empty studio, Anthony intertwined his fingers with Ian’s. 

For a moment, Ian didn’t respond. He kept his eyes forward as red crept to his cheek. Anthony watched him, making note of his every reaction, just in case he didn’t like it. The last thing Anthony wanted was to make Ian uncomfortable. 

It didn’t take long for Ian to settle into the idea. His muscles relaxed and a soft, fond, smile crossed his lips. Sighing to himself, he squeezed Anthony’s hand and gently stroked the back of it with his thumb. Anthony basically melted right then and there. 

Anthony flicked on the lights as Ian fell to sit on the couch he had in his office. As Ian opened his laptop on the coffee table, Anthony fell to sit next to him. He leaned his upper body against Ian’s back, bracing his chin on his shoulder and tracing delicate patterns on his arm with his fingertips. Anthony enjoyed it more than he thought when Ian’s entire body erupted into goosebumps at the slightest touch. 

Ian put in the password for his laptop and began to navigate to order food. The entire time, Anthony’s eyes were on his face. It was like he was seeing Ian in a whole new light. He always knew Ian was handsome, but now, in Anthony’s eyes, nothing could be more beautiful. From the curls framing his face, to the way he scrunched his eyebrows, and even the way his lips parted. 

Anthony’s eyes lingered the longest on Ian’s lips. A familiar sense of longing rose in his chest. All he could think about was how Ian’s lips might feel against his own. He wondered what they tasted like and he suddenly had the desperate need to feel Ian’s hands tangled in his hair. 

“Hey, Ian,” Anthony sat up straight to look at him. 

Ian didn’t look away from the screen, “Mhm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Everything stopped. Ian froze halfway through choosing his own food as his cheeks turned bright red. Slowly, he sat up, turning to Anthony and meeting his eyes. He was silent for just barely a second before asking, “Really?”

“Yes,” Anthony breathed, “I just-I realized, while we were live streaming- and I don’t mean to bombard you or make you uncomfortable, we don’t have to-”

Anthony was silenced by Ian cupping his cheeks and bringing their lips together. The second their lips touched, Anthony exploded into rays of sunshine. His body became a star as his entire universe was right in front of him. 

Ian wrapped his arms around Anthony’s neck as Anthony’s arms found their way to his waist. Ordering food was quickly forgotten as all Anthony could think about was Ian. He was far too focused on how Ian’s lips fit on his like they were born to be together. He couldn’t stop memorizing all the cracks and the taste of the chapstick Ian had been using earlier. His new favorite feeling was having Ian so close he was basically in Anthony’s lap, but a close second was the feeling of being just that close to Ian. 

Ian was the one to swipe his tongue over Anthony’s bottom lip, asking for permission. Anthony eagerly opened his lips for Ian. He swore, the two of them were made to be together. Ian just fit so perfectly in Anthony’s arms, it had to be destined. Anthony never believed in soulmates but he was seriously beginning to reconsider. 

As their kissing deepened, Ian moved one hand to tangle it in Anthony’s curls. Right then and there, Anthony melted. His entire body buzzed and he had never felt warmer in his entire life. If he could choose a single moment to spend the rest of his life in, it would be that one, if nothing else just for the fact that he was so close to Ian. 

When they finally did separate, they sat there for just a minute. Ian was basically in Anthony’s lap and still had one hand in his hair. Anthony had his arms tightly wound around Ian’s waist and couldn’t fathom ever letting go. The two were breathing heavily, both with red faces and stars in their eyes. 

“You know, I’m not that hungry anymore,” Ian whispered, “How about- how about we go back to my place?”

Anthony beamed, “I think that’s a great idea.”

#ianthony #ian hecox #anthony padilla #ian #anthony #smosh

[cubezart]

Hi!! You totally don't know me at all, I'm a complete stranger >:) And I'd love to hear about Jim's mental world!!

HI ok so erm this is mostly just gonna be a mess of rambles and vague ideas smushed together barely in order but

(old/outdated concept sketch, but it's a good start)

for starters, the prime issue(s) to help resolve in his mental world (or this version at least) is jim's fear of burdening his friends and family, and his resistance to reaching out for help, as much as he really needs it. it doesn't get too deep into his trauma, it's just giving jim the push he needs to seek out help again

after jim's recent divorce with bettie, he's been trying to give his family "some space to process" ...which didn't take long to sink back into old self isolation habits. he's been putting his all into his job to repress and distract from everything else going on with him, and it doesn't seem like it'll work for very much longer

first area in his mind is a boring + extremely tiny office room, the other cubicles are all empty and open except for jim's, which has a big metal door attached to the entrance. you can try and talk to him or ask him things, but it won't get you much . he insists he's happier in there really !! its so nice and safe hes fine :) its ok :)

when asked why he's locked in, he'll insist it's for his own safety, saying some vague stuff while the clairvoyance hints become even more obvious. when you use clairvoyance on him, his POV shows the cubicle door and everywhere around it surrounded by nightmares clawing and staring at him from the other side. (something something these are all just his own perception of things and he's really not in danger)

afterwards, his dialogue tree gets pretty short and limited, leaving raz to explore !! there's a few doors you can interact with, one being just a simple archetype-required door with a little collectible or somethin. the other is an old n dusty storage closet filled with memory vaults piling up to the ceiling. you can't really interact with any of those individually, (maybe some raz line along the lines of "i can't punch through all those :( ") but there's one or two real ones that just seem to have completely mundane and normal memories inside. weird! cuz with cpstd n trauma memory loss/repression, it can repress a lot more than what's necessary

there's one last door to try, leading out into the next phase ! raz says goodbye to jim, and jim happily waves back as the door shuts n locks behind raz, and the hallway distorts and extends, distancing raz away too :( sorta like the effect in the pn2 office construct !! im taking a lot of inspo from that world tbh heehe except for the obvious yknow. dental stuff

the next phase is kind of a messy stub for now, still sorting n planning out everything in my head lol but it's called Jim's Judgement

it centers more around jim's trauma and Issues TM and a lot of it is more vague concepts than any real gameplay ideas for the more dark story elements bc i don't want raz to have to see that and like to think after raz gets him a head start, he gets into actual professional Psychonauts therapy (and for my own silly oc/canon interaction fun, its sasha and milla assigned to help him. perhaps. maybe. they almost assigned oleander but he yelled too much and scared him away /hj) ANYWAY!!

all that being said i honestly have 0 ideas how to tone shit down for raz and im still trying to plan out the smaller in-game per se variation on it so i will simply. wait to talk about it. there's a lot of cool symbolism and motifs i prommy i swear </3 but the main "boss fight" final moment thing surrounds his whole paranoia of being a horrible person who others only tolerate + he constantly has to "make up for it" by putting everything and everyone Before him. i really wanna end it back in the small office space with jim having the key on his desk this whole time, making it literally In His Hands to get himself out. he just needed the support! he's definitely scared and slow, but he opens the door and steps out of his cubicle. the room grows a little bit. its a start

i was gonna ramble more about the darker version of the second phase but this post is already gettin Long and kinda incoherent i think so ermm. ill split it off into a second post probably if anyones interested in hearing more . i hope this all made sense lol i have too many thoughts about him to keep together honestly

#🟩 the cube speaks #🐟 my art #asks #psychonauts oc #jim monday #mental world #sorry in advance to strangers seeing this in the tags /hj

[and-a-pidgey-in-a-wepear-tree]

good [insert time of day here] i realised i never thought to ask you amid my delight of you being the most interactive follower i have that isnt an irl friend do YOU have ocs or blorbos. i wish to know. for reasons.

OH hello yes thank you for asking!!! I have several OCs but most of the time I simply Do Not Explain on here; I have lots of ideas and doodles but I make it mostly for myself and don't think to share — doesn't mean I don't want to tho! exhibit A: this absolutely massive post I'm about to make lmao. putting it under a read more bc Oh Boy, the floodgates have been opened

most of my OCs are for two different projects I have: The Visitors and my D&D Dark Star Campaign.

The Visitors is just a lil worldbuilding project I've been chewing on for.... oh wow, over a decade at this point??? I love all the OCs I have in there very very much, but they're definitely never intended to go in an actual story, I just enjoy the speculative biology and character / world building process.

Val is one of my oldest OCs, and she's changed SO MUCH over the years! nowadays, she's a sort of insect/dinosaur mashup alien who uses gravity warping magic and a very large axe to hunt demons. a huge issue for magic users of her species is keeping cool, as magic generates heat and can literally cook you from the inside out, so you'll notice the multiple vent-like spiracles across her body for this purpose. she was born blind and so relies heavily on her best friend, Django, to be her eyes and keep her safe. fortunately, Django has Too Many Eyes. he's a dragon genetically engineered by those in Val's species to be the perfect vessel for storing and releasing massive amounts of mirror-based magic. this kind of magic gives him many abilities, including seeing around corners, creating illusions, or multiplying attacks when applied in different ways, and he acts as Val's seeing-eye dragon. in battle, she likes to get up in the action while he holds back and gives her cues on what's happening, only jumping in himself if she's in major trouble. she's very friendly and excitable, and loves to get into the culture of whatever planet they're visiting, while he's more interested in observing and snooping. there's a lot of espionage and hijinks.

these are some of my most recent sketches of them, tho I'm sure the designs will changes in the future. specific colors don't matter at all, it's all about vibes! not pictured in the halfway colored one is Val's big iridescent black cape thing that has a slit down the middle for her rigid tail, nor her weird arms since I wanted to figure out where the torso vents could go.

Duke is another Visitor who visits planets and solves problems, but his path to get there was a whole lot different! I made him up as a coping mechanism when I was 12, and I'm still very fond of him.

he started life as a human video game speedrunner and modder prodigy. in a "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" situation, a devil (very distinct from demons!) struck a deal with him, challenging his gaming abilities with his soul as the stakes. he won despite the devil's cheating, but that's where the resemblance to the song ends. in this world, a devil winning your soul allows them to fuse with you and gain total control over your body, mind, and actions; but if YOU win, the control is reversed! and like any 14 year old who suddenly has the power to rival minor gods and a chaotic creature living in their head.... he goes off the rails for a while. Val and Django eventually find him and help him cope. his powers include electricity, glitching reality, flailing his glaive around, and being a menace to evil overlords.

you can't see it very well in this picture, but his eyes and the segments between his tail glow lime green! I'm not a fan of drawing clothes, but in my head he's relatively fashionable for a teenager and refuses to wear anything other than black. also, he decided to tell me he was trans a couple years ago, thanks for letting me know buddy 😂

my other project does actually get to see the light of day, if very slowly — I'm running a homebrew D&D campaign for my irl friends called the Dark Star Campaign! none of em use tumblr so WHEEEE I get to post all the spoilers I want! there's a kinda staggering amount of lore behind it and a ton of minor OCs, but the two I rotate in my head the most are Anya the Timekeeper and The Master, aka Armageddon.

Anya the Timekeeper is a chronomancy lich from an alternate universe! she used to help Armageddon travel the multiverse and gain power, but she's decided she's tired of being evil, and now hides in a mansion on a tropical island where she breeds dinosaurs for fun. though she's now very determined to help the party, they'll eventually have to kill her past self to prevent a paradox. her familiar is a little archaeopteryx named Trix who steals hats!

(I commissioned this art from @/goodlouse a while ago! highly recommend checking out his blog!!)

Armageddon is the BBEG and he's SO EVIL and SO MUCH FUN. he's an ancient amethyst dragon who, up until a while before the campaign's beginning, was steadily finding alternate universe versions of himself, killing them, and eating their souls to gain Unlimited Power™. unfortunately, his partner in time (hah) Anya told him to fuck off, so the quest for Unlimited Power™ has been kinda slow lately. fortunately, a D&D campaign started, and he cheated his way into existing at the players' table as The Master! my players can ask to talk to him sometimes, and I'll put on a mask of his head I made specifically for this purpose — very useful for not breaking character when the character is supposed to literally be the one sitting at the table talking to the players. I don't try to hide the fact that he's evil and they all know it, the fun is in giving them little hints and tidbits of lore to munch on. right now he's being very docile and helpful but things will get very very interesting eventually as more of his nature and plan is revealed..... =)

I'm still playing around with what he looks like as The Master, but I really like this recent design I did. his eye glows dark and menacing. I haven't found a design for his dragon form I'm really pleased with yet tho :/

okay wow thanks again for the ask, I have many many ideas in my head and it felt pretty nice to get em out!!

#ough!! many thoughts!! #lemon generator #the visitors #dark star campaign #fair warning: delving into those tags might be completely incomprehensible #I have fun here on tumblr.com #d&d #oh also #anya the timekeeper

[jokerx-art]

what year is it…

*looks for my last ews post* 2019?!

so... lately i've been thinking about this AU again, but for very personal reasons (death of someone important to me) and i've been thinking about the past a lot these days for the past 2 years. i've been thinking about the AU cause a version of my younger self was there and that's the past and i've been thinking of this AU in a way to kinda help me process things.

so while the AU has been on indefinite hiatus for years now, i have been thinking of writing for it again (and i have written a little), at least just for me right now.

i have not drawn these four in years, except for Tord where i did draw him very recently (to make fun of him, but i make fun of all my faves so that's just the norm, but i have also been drawing one of my OCs with Tord again cause god damn it, their friendship is nice and i drew them for years and that OC makes me happy even tho i'm separating her from fandom stuff now. it's like having 2 versions of her). and Edd i did draw a few months ago for a little sketch in redrawing something i found in my old notebooks (which a friend has seen, and i may post it but i would wanna add other sketches first).

i have been sharing some ews stuff with a friend but just sharing it. i have not said why i've been doing ews stuff again until this post.

i ended up drawing their hair closer to how it actually looks in canon than whatever my past self used to draw them as (while staring at screenshots and references cause i haven't drawn them in years).

i think this AU has become a comfort thing to me again. altho not as much as Ion (Game of Dice) brings me comfort cause of how much i just relate to him, including IonNea since their relationship is just so healing. then again, i don't think anything will top how much comfort i get from anything Ion related, he's #1.

also a little note, Persona 3 Reload is also why i've been thinking about EWS again (what listening to Full Moon Full Life on repeat will do to a mfer). plus its theme of life and death. everyone say thank you P3RE. go play/watch it right now, it's peak. i cried. i cried hard. like sure i played P3P already and it hurt, but P3RE hit HARDER.

(i am normally a very private and closed person, i typically don't like talking about myself so typing/saying all this was quite a lot for me to admit.)

#artists on tumblr #eddsworld #eddsworldstuck #homestuck #crossover #fanart #au #everything i want to say is under the read more and is important on why i'm drawing *some* ews again tbh. or ew in general tbh #me saying 2019 does not include the other ews doodle i did since that was just for hs2 returning

[mermaidsirennikita]

Have you read books with the heroine being the one pursuing the hero?

Oh def! When a Girl Loves an Earl by Elisa Braden is always my major one, as she's actively pursuing him while he's resistant lol.

Rules for a Proper Governess by Jennifer Ashley has the heroine very intently purpose her boss, who's a good bit older than her. It's very "don't stand so close to me".

Olivia and The Masked Duke by Grace Callaway is another one where the heroine is a good bit younger than the hero (10-12 years) and he's her dad's friend who's known her since she was about 12? Which I know sounds bad but it was totally above board I swear. Anyway, she never saw him a truly sexual light until she spied on him spanking another woman. And then. THEEEEN she begins chasing him HARD while he's like "ma'am, I CANNOT".

Her Husband's Harlot, also by Grace, has a heroine who's married to a man who refuses to touch her due to his own damage, and she's so determined to have him that she disguises herself as a sex worker and it does indeed work. The Duke in Question also has a heroine who I would say is kinda pushing the agenda along, as it were. Glory and The Master of Shadows also has this vibe because Glory is pursuing Wei hard and Wei is like "she's basically my student, this cannot be!!!"

Oooh, another dad's friend one--My Dirty Duke by Joanna Shupe. The heroine is 18-20, the hero is her dad's 43-year-old close friend. He resists while she chases. For a minute.

The Arrow by Monica McCarty is a guardian/ward romance where he's sooo convinced that she's too young for him (she's sincerely not lol) but she DOGGEDLY chases him.

It Seemed Like a Good Idea at The Time by Kylie Scott--contemporary dad's friend romance, the heroine chased when she was younger. She had a crush on him, he was 15 years her senior and decidedly uninterested, but when she turned 18 she basically jumped into his lap and took her top off and her dad happened to walk in at that moment and it almost ruined the friendship. So she comes back after seven years of being away, and the tension is Real. She's not really pursuing in the present day, but the backgrounded reminded me of this.

Deep by Kylie Scott is another one where I'd say the background context helps. The heroine is a college coed, around 20-22, the hero is late twenties/early thirties and is the bass player for a rock band. Her sister (an earlier heroine) married the drummer, who's taken the heroine on as a little sister type. However, the heroine has been pursuing the bass player guy, who's like... kinda resistant because Bro Code, but not really. You see the background in this book with flashbacks in the beginning, where they're building a friendship, she's flirting a lot, he's like "I shouldn't"... and then they do. And it's a one night thing. And she ends up knocked the fuck up lol.

The Ivy Leavold trilogy by Sierra Simone is this for sure lol. It's an erotic romance with kink, general BDSM, and group sex, so be warned. It's also basically like a kinky Jane Eyre, but with a hornier heroine while the hero is like "Ivy, I am a BEAST AND A BASTARD". Very funny, very hot.

I'd say Praise by Sara Cate has this in the beginning--the heroine is the recent ex of the hero's semi-estranged son, so he's very "we should NOT" but... he folds pretty quickly.

Never Seduce a Scot by Maya Banks has a heroine who pursues the heroine more, but a lot of that is because she's deaf and due to medieval mores he thinks she's intellectually delayed and therefore not someone he should sleep with, despite them being in an arranged marriage. He's trying to be ethical, basically, and he doesn't get that she WANTS IT.

Matilda Halifax Learns the Value of Restraint by Alexandra Vasti--the heroine is the shyer Halifax sister, and she's drawn erotic sketches of the hero that someone lifts and publishes. So he's PISSED, but also so into her because it's clear that she (like he) is kinky. She starts being like "teach me" basically, and pushing towards him.

How to Marry a Marquess by Stacy Reid has a heroine pursuing her scandalous friend who's very sure that she wouldn't be able to handle the fallout of being married to him. But she just neeeds seduction lessons, you see. For some other guy!

#romance novel blogging #romance novels #book recs

[herofics]

Hello, hello! I saw your recent post about Hawks comforting a suicidal reader, and I got curious with other writing prompts you made. Little did I know, I would grow to love it very much! I'll definitely read more of your posts in my spare time, thank you for making these!

Anyways, I hope I didn't catch you in a bad time. IF, and only IF you're feeling up to it, I'd like to request a Hawks x female reader who has AWFUL social skills and stutters a lot. It's not that she has anxiety, but it happens too often to the point people sometimes misunderstand her. Nonetheless, she tries REALLY hard to communicate with people, especially with Hawks. Little did anyone know, she has a passion for drawing! One day, the reader decided to finally confess her feelings to Hawks; however, there's a twist. The reader was never really good with words in the first place. Instead, she decided to give him a sketchbook filled with little sketches, paintings and complete drawings of him, the reader, or together, with a bit of aesthetic shtick going on (old timey newspapers, Latin quotes in papyrus, colorful pressed flowers, you know, those kinds of dark/light academia aesthetics you see everywhere). To add the cherry on top, a note on top of the sketchbook says, "You are the walking embodiment of the quote, 'What if I fall? But darling, what if you fly?' Thank you for inspiring me to be bolder and for being with me. I love and appreciate you, Chicken Feet."

I'm not sure if this idea had been done, but don't feel pressured to do it whether or not it has been written down. Again, thank you very much, and I wish you the best day!

Have a Chikim Kigs for all your troubles ^^

Sounds very familiar tbh, I’m super awkward and anxious socially, and I absolutely suck at talking to people. When I really need to tell someone something, I write it down and send it to them as a message, because I suck at talking. I think this is a really cute idea and I hope I did it justice. I have a masterlist in the pinned post where you can find all my stuff categorized by character. I hope you have a great day, I’m certainly having a good one :D

•You’re not very good with talking to people, but you do really try

•People still seem to misunderstand you a lot, and sometimes they even get irritated at you

•Sometimes people just don’t even make the effort to understand, but Hawks does

•He’s very patient with you and if he feels like he’s maybe misunderstanding you, he asks more questions to make sure and the situation usually resolves itself like that

•You and Hawks have been friends for a while now, and you’ve fallen for him pretty hard

•You’re not at all sure if he would return your feelings, he’s always been pretty hard to read and not just for you

•Hawks doesn’t really reveal much about himself, even to the people closest to him, but he does feel really safe and relaxed with you

•You started working on your little sketchbook project about a month before you gave it to Hawks

•It was a fun project but when you finally decided it was ready and you wanted to give it to him, you were super nervous

•You didn’t know how he was going to react, but you knew that if he was going to reject your feelings, he was going to do it kindly, that’s just the kind of person he is

•Hawks came over to your place since you were going to go to lunch from there

•You seemed really nervous for some reason, which he picked up on immediately

•So of course he asked you if something was wrong, and you just handed him the sketchbook and requested he would take a look at it

•He started flipping through it and you could see his pupils getting bigger with each page, like cat’s eyes do

•He was also smiling like a total dork, because he was so happy

•You felt a wave of relief wash over you as he flipped through it and he seemed to be very happy with what he was seeing

•Hawks had been super nervous about telling you how he felt, because he didn’t really know if you would return his feelings

•Your lack of social skills make you a bit hard for him to read, but he did have an inkling about you maybe liking him back

•When he got to the end of the sketchbook, he saw your little text bit with the “Thank you for inspiring me to be bolder and for being with me. I love and appreciate you, chicken feet”

•He suddenly hugged you were tightly and whispered in your ear “I love you too, dove”

•You felt all the nervousness leave your body as he said that and you hugged him back after you got over the initial shock

•You were so happy he returned your feelings and also that he liked your way of confessing to him

•Hawks is over the moon and the two of you also go through the sketchbook together because he wants to know how you made it

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #hawks #bnha hawks #mha hawks #takami keigo #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #mha fluff #bnha fluff #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

[tea-earl-grey]

!!!! You’re writing a post-Picard Raffi/Seven story?!

Yeah!! To be honest it's less writing and more planning/sketching out ideas I like. It's technically an AU because it's set on an original ship called "Perseverance" rather than the Ent G (I started writing some of it before Picard s3 ended and didn't feel like reworking it especially because I really enjoyed making a bunch of OCs and didn't want to sideline them). It's mostly a project to take a lot of the Picard era worldbuilding that I think is super cool (the destruction of Romulus, xBs, synths) as well as some original ideas and putting it in the style of a more 90s era mostly episodic show that swings from darker character studies to lighthearted romps and has some canonical characters (obviously Seven & Raffi as well as Janeway, Naomi Wildman, Soji, Elnor, etc making appearances) but also with a strong focus on OCs.

I became really fascinated the past few months with how hopeless the Federation and Starfleet became after the Romulan supernova/destruction of Mars in Picard season 1 and how they might realistically recover so a lot of the stories have a focus on the flaws of Starfleet/the Federation and how to solve them from the point of view of people like Seven & Raffi who have been screwed over or subjected to prejudice while still maintaining the optimism that should always be in Star Trek. (As well as just having fun developing Seven & Raffi's relationship, worldbuilding, and doing my take on ridiculous stock trek plots.)

I have the first "season" (20 episodes) planned with two episodes fully written + a bunch of random excerpts and some ideas for future seasons including one episode fully written for season 2. It's one of those projects that I know I'm not actually going to end up drafting and posting because I should really be working on other things but it's fun and tbh a good writing exercise to at least write notes for what every episode would look like.

Some of my OCs for this include:

Chief of Security Lt. Cmdr Hannah Nguyen: a human who as a teen/young adult was haunted by her dad's death in the Dominion War and acted out but eventually was given a chance to join Starfleet and has tried to bury her fears under layers of eccentricity and jokes and is now having a hard time adjusting to being a leader

Ops Officer Lt. Kelen Taan: a Trill who gains a symbiont halfway through s1 and realizes that even though they achieved what every Trill's dream *should* be, they feel even less like a complete person than before they were joined

Chief Engineer Lt John: John is from a pre-warp world that was devastated by the Romulan supernova and only escaped because of a crashed shuttle. His people are entirely telepathic and don't have a concept of language so he often feels unable to communicate and form lasting relationships (but he works on it!)

Pilot Ensign Isha Kulhari: a human and recent Academy grad who is Idealistic and Determined to do the right thing but sometimes her faith in inherent goodness wavers as she really sees the universe but still chooses kindness and hope.

Dr Sovel Dahir: a half-human half-Vulcan who was raised by humans on Earth and has a lot of issues connecting to their Vulcan heritage and culture because they don't believe that logic can solve everything.

Counselor Lt Cmdr Mateusz Binkowski: an old friend of Raffi's from before she was discharged (and subsequently reinstated) who's had a lifelong Starfleet career but harbors a dark secret about something he did in the Dominion War as a young man.

Some of the ideas I'm particularly proud of are:

a courtroom episode involving a legal case about whether xBs as a group should granted asylum into the Federation. Seven is called to testify but is hesitant to go because she's spent so long trying to distance herself from being an xB because of her trauma and to gain others' respect and now she doesn't know how to connect to this huge group built on a shared trauma

the tried and tested sex pollen episode. it's cringe and silly but it was so much fun to write a ridiculous comedy that also digs at some of the complexities of Seven and Raffi's relationship and whether it can work out for them as captain and xo

the ship is dragged through to another universe where there's a version of the Federation that's obsessed with scientific progress at any cost with no consideration for morality. We find a version of Seven (or rather Annika) never assimilated by the Borg who's leading a project to break through to other universes to explore but might be endangering the walls of reality. (similar to the mirrorverse this becomes a recurring setting)

breaking away from our main characters, we follow a group of Romulan refugees turned pirates as they plan to break in to and loot the ship. it'll be one part fun genre heist story and one part stark look at how refugees are demonized and forced to turn to crime

a Borg cube is discovered in Federation space and Seven is sent to investigate (and destroy it) along with her chief of security, Nguyen. Nguyen has a deep fear of the Borg which she's never admitted to Seven (or anyone) and spends the story combatting her fears and trying to come up with a way to save the drones as proof that she can act beyond her fears. Meanwhile Seven, battling her own demons and self-hate, insists that the cube needs to be destroyed. It's told in media res through a therapy session.

sorry this was so atrociously long. props to anyone who read this far!! i would also be more than happy to share my gdocs of everything i have written and outlined if anyone is interested or to just chat in dms!

#sorry this was more than anyone ever wanted to know about my fanfic #i can never just write a silly canon compliant oneshot huh #perseverance au #my posts #my fanfic

[miru667]

HIII!! miru, i'm shakoo

I was really doubting whether to send you this message or not, because I felt sorry but hey!, my curiosity and need to know more brought me here hehe

(sorry if I have grammatical errors, I'm still learning English so I make mistakes, I still hope you understand what I mean)

Well I'll summarize it as much as I can ^^

Miru I love your art so much and Au (I'm still updating myself with the story so I can understand it more)

I recently became very interested in the Lorax fandom, (specifically for the character most acclaimed) The once-ler fandom, I didn't know it had its own place on the internet and I never really inquired much about it, but a month ago I found myself with one of your pieces of art and I was honestly surprised that the onceler had fanarts, and when I discovered your blog I was fascinated

I have been reading and reading everything for days, and I love what was formed around the movie

And I loved your headcanons as well as the analysis that you did from time to time.

And well the question I wanted to ask you is just one

How does it feel to be part of this fandom for literally 1 decade?

I can't imagine the things you experienced in the fandon and the history that it entails :O

And finally

Thanks for reading, I'm sorry if the message is a bit long, or a bit meaningless, but there are many things on my mind right now, I've read so many blogs jeje

Without more to say, thank you very much Miru!!!

Omg HIIII welcome to the fandom! I'm so happy you ended up sending this message, please don't hesitate because I love answering asks! Man I'm!! 🥺 I'm so honoured to hear that you've enjoyed my art and my headcanons and analyses, I'm really proud of the few analyses I did so that makes me really happy 🙈

Good luck on your reading of old posts, there is so much to read I can't even imagine being able to catch up with everything O_O New fandom members who try to read old stuff are real troopers.

As for your question ahhhHHHH I KNOWWW I've been in this fandom for literally a third of my life so far...I say this to everyone but onceler fandom is like my culture now. 🥲 That's how it feels. You are right, there were a lot of valuable experiences and there has been a lot of history.

I see people dig up old posts and reblog them and sometimes I think "they don't know that that piece of art was drawn by my friend for my other friend to cheer them up when they were going through a rough time" or "they don't know that this piece of art led to the falling out of a friend group" or "they don't know that I literally watched my friend draw the sketch for this piece of art when I visited them irl many years ago and it was one of the most happiest times of my life that I can't get back anymore because we drifted apart from each other"

Like..! :,) Many pieces of our lives are attached to this fandom so I just hope that our old stuff gets treated with respect. I don't watch YouTube analyses of the fandom anymore because they just talk about oncest and maybe mention the AUs and they don't know that most of the fandom was actually about our friendships with each other.

So that's how it feels to have been in the fandom for a decade! You become familiar with certain patterns too so I see certain things happening over and over again as the fandom revives itself over and over, but with every revival there's something new too because of the general shifts in internet culture haha. These past few years I've preferred to stay a bit removed from it all for my own mental health and just concentrate on my Audrey oc and rping with my friends 🥰

Thank you for the ask and no need to apologize for a long message since I just typed an even longer one HAHA

#miruask #shakooo

[kuwdora]

🙃 please wish me luck for tomorrow, I have Yet Another Interview...I've been averaging about 2 a week for the last few weeks and I'm still only 60-75% done with this process. Not even counting all the outreach to set up other interviews in the meantime if these don't pan out. To say I am losing my mind is an understatement. I'm so tired. Trying to be kind to myself during all of this, since this is rather exciting and overwhelming and exhausting but waaughhhh, I'm ready to hibernate for a full week (if my brain would actually let me rest which remains a large problem...) My short term memory continues to be shitty. Forgetting to lock doors, turn off stove burners, I keep forgetting things folks have told me the previous day/week that I really should have remembered (lists are my friends but I keep forgetting to add things to my list). All very ADHD but really it's just... a lot of my anxiety about all this interview stuff. Wake up and it's the first thing on my mind. Last thing on my mind before I go to bed. It's taking up so much brainRAM. I have the myNoise app on my phone to help soothe ye old brainmeats in the evenings, at least. Anyway, amongst the fannish chittering in my brain that is not witcher-related: I remember reading about someone spinning Ted Lasso character's into the Star Wars universe and I could not track down the post. I can't even remember if I read it by someone on twitter, tumblr, or dreamwidth at this point. Or if I had imagined it. Does this sound familiar to anyone? hmm. Next my brain started thinking about Yellowjackets characters in the Star Wars universe and have determined that Misty Quigley would be an amazing secret pirate hunter who occasionally moonlights as a pirate. Next up: I'm almost done with the Disney era Thrawn trilogy reread (it's only taken me like two and a half months wtf) (next will be Heir to the Empire, wheeee). I'm pretty caught up with Grand Admiral Thrawn strategically instilling praise kink and loyalty in the people under his command. I also recently revisited A Black Lady Sketch Show's sketch: The Basic Ball in which I tried casting Ted Lasso characters mental illness/neuroses looks and then my brain melted out of my ears because of previously stated tired. But also my favorite Yellowjackets meow meows showing off their PTSD looks? Love. It.

I would like more brain to finish editing my Witcher wips, to start a few more wips--they're dancing in my periphery. And I'd love to have brain to paint again. To have energy for seeing friends. I'm quite sad I couldn't corral enough focus to finish my VidUKon vid in time for the deadline, but I can just try to finish it later.

Maybe soon I can reclaim some more brainRAM. Free it up from this interviewing stuff. Fingers crossed. 🤞

#kuwdora ruminates #on crossovers #mental health #my posts #textpost

[crouton-knight]

My nerd(affectionate), my aquantence, my funny lil guy on a screen-

Tell me about your ocs

I'm spesificaly curious about your pfp (are they an oc? Self insert? Im fairly certain you drew them, but did you?) But also I wanna know abt any other lil fellas youve got! I want Refrence Images (if you hve any)

HELLO I'M SO EXCITED TO TELL YOU the one in my pfp is not an OC though, that's just Karkat Vantas as a trickster. I did in fact draw him! But technically he's not mine, just the design is.

I can post the full image below! Among many others.

Due to who I am as a person, at least some of the images below will be uh. Suggestive. Proceed at your own discretion.

Trickster Karkat

I've actually drawn him like three times but this is my favorite iteration.

OKAY OC TIME

I'll start with my homestuck OCs. These aren't all of them, just most of them. I still have some highbloods to draw.

Pommeh Granit and Pemlow Matahr (originally Pomelo Tomato) are a couple of minor characters in an old fic of mine that's been bouncing around forever. Pommeh doesn't get much if any screentime but in another world he'd be some highblood's sugarbaby, sweet to their face and an absolute terror to anyone else. Pemlow is much nicer, and the tattoos on his shoulder are meant to be symbolic of the system he grew up in (as he's not an Alternian troll, he's from a colony world.)

All the yellowbloods (Hanyak Tayana, Kimchi Spanch, Javila Kanyao and Praspa Tradam) are also background characters from various unfinished fics that I sometimes give their own lives anyway. Hanyak and Praspa are roommates, and very toxic for each other. Kimchi is the only thing keeping them from killing each other. Javila is just there for the ride, and to provide narcotics.

Maeleo is actually my first fantroll! He went through a bunch of redesigns though. I think someone once said he looks like a pokemon trainer? I think I might lean into that lol. Champion Fiduspawn player.

Tassit, Sazaly, and Lasusa are also some older characters who've gone through some redesigns (Lasusa the least, she's always been scrungly). The three of them are from the same fic as Pommeh and Pemlow, as maintenance crew (Tassit) and medical crew (Sazaly and Lasusa.) Hareer used to be a Beforus troll but then I made them an Alternian bounty hunter.

Yadmir is a smuggler who runs both cargo and people off locked down planets like Alternia. He only shows up in a couple scenes in one of my more recent (unfinished) fics but I think he's kind of charming, in a slimy way.

Claris is just horrible and I'm pretty sure she eats people. Like not even grubs, straight up people.

I also have Lilnas Rodey and Candra Somvar, both of which I need to actually draw myself at some point. There's more than these but... yeah, still no refs.

DragonFable OCs!

I still need to draw most of them. But here's the ones I've already drawn.

Dave, a fan-child for Notha and Remthalas, cloned mostly from Rem's DNA but with a little Notha in there for variety. He's a menace and I love him. @oddeyesight and @valorousowl (as @justanothalyehr) are partially responsible.

Duroc, Elemental Spirit of Vivacity. He's a hedonist and a bacon-aligned spirit, and I mostly made him because I thought it'd be funny.

Somnarine, another abyssal elf. He's an old friend of Rem's who was away when the other abyssal elves got taken out by Kathool. Lots of headcanons involved in both his design and backstory. His skirt isn't actually that short, he ties it with his belt when he's on land. Right now he's traveling among other water elf settlements to try and gather as much of his people's history together as he can. Very much a lover not a fighter, and needs rescuing *often.* (Kind of a simplified sketch, will do better eventually.)

I've only recently gotten back into DF though so again, more OCs, not that many refs.

Puella Magi OCs!

I have. A lot of witches. Which I will not list, because I mostly use them for RP, and they die pretty quickly lol.

But here are some of my magical girls!

Chiyako Watanabe, my first Puella Magi OC. Rich girl, very polite and sweet on the first few meetings, but actually really intense and even a little violent. Has a pretty fragile ego, and a tendency to not ask for help until it's too late.

Tsukiko Usada, 18 or 19 years old, living on her own, and actually really shy and nervous around everyone. Has an interest in idol culture and fashion, but doesn't think she'll get anywhere with it, mostly because she's trans and still needs to get over her own internalized issues. (Her outfit was originally just blue but then I did the trans flag palette as a joke and thought it looked much cuter.)

This one's much rougher due to the situation around the image; a few people from the RP + myself wanted to make a manga but it didn't really get off the ground. Olivia here was one of the main cast; she's really cold and bitter outwardly but actually kind of a crybaby. Also half-Belgian, hence the name.

I have one more, but she still doesn't have any art; will hopefully get around to that sometime.

Non-fandom OCs!

Surprisingly, this Madoka-looking girl is for an original project that I've been pinging around in my head for a few months. Miko Sugihara, an unlucky magical girl who works for the Yakuza due to them holding her mascot critter hostage.

Knoell here is... something. He was abducted by Krampus and transformed into what he is now. Really I made him for smut.

Nikolai here is basically my self-insert! I do not own any of this outfit in real life, alas.

Hoo, that's already quite a lot, so I'll stop here for now. Might post more if anyone asks again. Thanks for dropping by! Feel free to ask details about any of them.

#my ocs #my art #puella magi madoka magica #dragonfable #original #homestuck #asks #asylumdream #fantrolls

[mloyan]

small sketchdump featuring mostly watercolour sketches from recent travels to update this old tumblr - it feels a little odd to think that this specific place has been around for so long - 12 years ish.

i'll just be babbling below about what's been going on, sort of, have a nice day if you simply keep scrolling :)

this panel is mostly flashes i made as a tattoo artist but also some research for a lithography print i got to make with talented independent art publishing house azulil in Marseille (well, I drew on a slab of stone, and they explained and did the actual printing which was amazing to witness), here's a link to my print in their shop so you can see bigger pictures than on IG: https://azulil.com/eshop/007-peaudepierre2-vitoriavilela-iriso-9mrgm-3sala-jjmmd - it is h u g e (56x76cm) compared to what I usually draw (A5 and smaller) so that was fun. please do check out all their work, and the other artists they work with, it's humbling to be a part of all this.

another humbling thing: i've done around 860 tattoo sessions (excluding touch ups) ever since i started this thing three years ago. baffles me a little a lot that people have trusted me that many times to put my drawings on their skin, and some have been returning clients right from the beginning. it feels unreal that i'm able to make a living off my drawings, and borderline insane that i get to share this on a daily basis with people who make the effort to come see me.

this job comes at a price, like any job, and i definitely need to take a real break some day, one without worrying about bookings and guest spots and potential tendinitis and all the usual physical and mostly mental health stuff, but i wouldn't change it for the world. if you're a friend, someone from the family, one of my past or current client/supporter, thank you.

[inceptionart]

Featuring Mo @archangelgabriel​ today for the artist highlight! Read on for their thoughts on art, and you can find all of their wonderful artwork here!

🎨 When did you start creating art for the Inception fandom, and what is your inspiration?

i started making art when i joined the "you're waiting for a train" discord server, so i want to say… 2019? some of my inspirations have gotta be the wonderful whirl @noitsnacktime, who is an awesome person who makes awesome art, and salt @ffc1cb, whose artwork and poses and expressions are just so lovely and fluid. another inspiration of mine who i followed really closely back in my supernatural days (which are not very far behind me) is @clickbaitcowboy​. he has this awesome rendering style and way of drawing bodies that i definitely try to imitate sometimes.

🎨 Tell us about your creative process, and which part do you enjoy the most about it?

oh, god. i have so many different styles and i make art so haphazardly that it's hard to say. first i generally have a dumb idea, and i try to get it down as soon as possible so i don't forget it. a lot of the time i don't have drawing materials with me, so I end up writing it down. then generally i do a kind of "thumbnail", which for me is usually just a stick figure i draw to get my poses down. then, i blow up my stick figure to the full canvas size (thank you digital art!) and i draw a sketch directly on top of it. depending on what kind of look i'm going for, after that i either line over my sketch or i just start a new layer and go straight to painting. i'm a psychopath who can't ever keep my layers organized, so i often do all my painting and rendering on one layer, and make more as needed.

my favorite part is probably rendering skin and fabric. i draw a lot of people and not much else, so other materials (including HAIR) are generally hard for me. folds are tricky but when painting you can kind of bullshit it until it turns out alright.

🎨 Link us to your first and latest artwork, and how your style has evolved since then?

my actual first digital artwork has definitely been lost to time. i might have a couple of old sketchbook gems i can pull out for y'all.

oh yeah, baby. none of my sketchbook pages are dated, but i'm pretty sure this is from when i was ~13. i think it's supposed to be me? this one is from when i was 11. look at that shitty anime! also from when i was 11, i remember my best friend signing the adjacent page of this in the courtyard, actually.

but for what i'll call this phase of my artistic life, my oldest artwork on tumblr is… pretty recent, actually. probably this drawing of castiel from mid-late 2019. my latest artwork on tumblr would be these arthureames sketches and i guess my latest artwork ever would have to be this drawing i did of a character for artfight just last night (5/29), though it was pretty rushed and low-effort. [find me on artfight under icedhotcocoa, btw!!]

i can't really pinpoint what's changed as i'm kind of constantly changing and growing, but i'm definitely more comfortable with drawing now. i'm also way better at using reference and capturing likeness. plus, i know my strengths and i play to them more! portraits and more sketchy, loose styles are honestly way more for me than anything as cleanly lined as that cas. switching from autodesk sketchbook to procreate was a pretty significant jump for me, actually, and i think i really started putting more effort in then. that castiel was the last sketchbook drawing i ever did. sayonara, autodesk.

🎨 What is your absolute favorite piece of art that you've made, and why?

sadly, i have chronic "don't post art" syndrome and a lot of my artwork has been lost in the great art purge of 2020 (I left my ipad in a rental car and never backed up any of my work so it's gone forever). but i think i can scrounge something up.

since i actually finish works semi-infrequently, my favorite art always tends to be my most recent art as i'm still studying! I think this welcome to night vale portrait or this arthureames drawing are my top two, both from mid-late last year.

i'm now realizing i've only made one actually complete 100 percent finished artwork this year. that's bad.

🎨 What is something about Inception that you really want to make art for someday, and why?

OH! I've actually always wanted to make fanart for some of my favorite fics, but i get insecure because part of me is like "mo this fic is from 2011 what are you doing". i know, it's dumb. a couple i have in mind are orbit by @finelydressedspacemen​, and my most favorite fic of all time, through centuries of nerve by ester_inc.

🎨 Give a shoutout to your favorite Inception artists here!

AH FUCK! well, the aforementioned @noitsnacktime​ and @ffc1cb. i've never spoken to @mizunoir personally but their art is just jaw-dropping, and an artist i've just discovered on tumblr is @birdlawco, whose work is really cute and wonderful.

🎨 Anything else you'd like to talk about art and the Inception fandom in general ❤

art is hard, and awful, and terrible, and i hate it. but also art is wonderful and amazing and incredible and i can't think of anything else i'd rather do, and every time I say "UAGHRGEU I HATE ART I'M NEVER DRAWING AGAIN!!!" someone always says "no you don't, no you won't" and it's true! so to all my lovely and talented artists and fanartists out there, keep on keepin on!

just struck me that i joined this fandom when i was 14 and i am, like, fully 17 right now, which is crazy. i'm still pretty young compared to a lot of veterans, but this fandom has been a pretty massive part of my teenage development as much as the fanart i've made for it as a part of my artistic development. stay awesome, yall. thanks for the years. happy dozenth inceptiversary, gang!

#inception artist highlight #inceptiversary #inception #archangelgabriel