Meet My Lesbian Alien… She / It

raining gold 

I am INVESTED in this story

tw: kidnapping, non-con drugging

The boy skidded to a halt, almost crashing into a tall body lurking in the middle of the street. He fumbled to steady his footing from the brick wall of a man that blocked his way, brows furrowed instantly in annoyance.

The sun was setting beyond the horizon and the sky had gone a dark red, with ashy grey clouds filling the expanse. The mask sitting on the man’s face made the boy initially think this was Mercenary. But when his head tilted down, finally drawing his attention to the smaller boy, he realised it wasn’t.

The child instantly went sheepish and blushed in embarrassment, having made a fool out of himself in front of an odd stranger.

“Sorry, mister,” he grumbled out, staring up at him with unblinking eyes. He was dressed in a similar get up to Mercenary, with the mask and all. Skulking in the shadows until he found what he was looking for...

The child felt uneasy as the man chuckled under his breath, folding his arms across his chest.

“It’s real creepy lurking on the streets,” the boy sniffed as he imitated his stance, puffing out his chest. “Especially with a Halloween costume.”

The masked man cocked his head. “And don’t you think its a little irresponsible to be talking to strangers?”

The child pouted. “I can look after myself! I’m not a kid.”

“That so?” came the dryly amused response. The boy nodded his head firmly; he hated people thinking he was some weak brat. Mercenary did it all the time and it grated profusely on his nerves. Giving the man one final sweep, the child hummed and blinked up at him.

“Are you one of those contract killers?”

The masked man didn’t move. “Yes, I am.”

Oh. The boy wasn’t expecting such a blunt answer. Was he telling him because he thought he was harmless? He scrunched up his nose and narrowed his eyes at him.

“Then can you kill somebody for me?”

The killer shrugged his shoulders, as if in playful exasperation, and reached for his belt. “Sure. After I’ve done this job.”

Pinched between his two fingers was a rectangular card, flashing it towards the boy smoothly. He took it from him, all while giving him a perplexed, yet judgmental stare.

“Contract killers don’t have business cards.”

“This one does,” he responded with a light chuckle. “How else are people meant to find me?”

“But Merce–” The boy caught himself and stumbled to cover his tracks. “–the people on the television shows say it’s just through the right connections.”

The masked man hummed. “You’re old enough to tell fiction apart from reality, aren’t you?”

The child’s expression wrinkled in anger and he sent him a deadly glare. He flipped over the card and glanced at the front, making a note to ask Mercenary about this guy. He seemed illegitimate and wondered if he was any good at his job at all.

“Of course I am, I’m not...” His heart sank to his boots and his words fizzled out on his tongue. His eyes were wide as he stared at the name on the front of the card, a name Mercenary had warned him about, a name he was meant to stay away from.

Stupid.

It was Mercenary’s rival. The rival that was out to kill them both. Along the ground came a bright stream of light, and the sound of a car slowly rolling up the pavement. The boy swallowed the parched lump in his throat and subtly glanced behind him, watching the black car come to a stop.

He bit the inside of his cheek and turned his focus back on the killer, who was already staring at him. The child could almost feel the smirk.

“I have to go...” He whispered shakily. He couldn’t hide the fear in his voice or his body. “I have to go.”

He turned to run, but a strong force yanked him back by the collar of his shirt, sending him crashing onto the hard floor. He scraped his hands and hissed in pain.

“Stay a bit,” the masked man cooed, his haunting steps coming closer by the second. “After all, I did say I had a job to do.”

The child scrambled onto his feet, ready to break off in a run. But he felt huge arms grab him and yank him back into the hard body, pinning him there. He instantly began thrashing frantically, swinging his legs in the air as he was carried back.

“Help!” He screamed, shredding his vocal chords as tears welled in his eyes. “Mercenary, help! He–”

A gloved hand closed around his mouth and nose, cutting him off. His fingers dug into the man’s wrist as he squirmed uselessly, gasping in pain when he felt the smack of hard leather seats beneath his body.

He lashed out with his legs and kicked viciously as the killer climbed in afterwards, shutting the car door behind him. There was something in his hand and the child cried out in fear, hands scrambling at the locked door opposite.

“No–” He wailed, terror flashing in his eyes as a hand wound through his hair and tugged him back. Something sharp pricked at his neck, and the boy tried reaching lazily for the door handle. His vision started swirling and his arm slumped against the seats.

Voices became too hazy to hear, and in a daze, the small child fell deeply unconscious.

I never realized why I love The Owl House (TOH) so much until I re read the Amulet series again. There's just something so similar with the two. Anyone can enjoy TOH to any extent but I feel like hose who read Amulet enjoyed it just a tiny bit more

Sometimes, self-care if you buying all the books of a series you used to read in middle school because the final book is supposed to come out later this year and you gotta refresh your memory of literally everything before getting the final book because I'LL BE DANGED IF I DON'T FIND OUT HOW IT ENDS!

Expect for me to have some Amulet brainrot for a while until TOH s2b premiers.

Another redraw!! This time with these wintery children ✨

i absolutely ADORE ur Tim and Cassandra art

Oh thank you so much! Have some really rough sketches of them for your enjoyment <3

rough night

Brush theory is wild like the difference in art styles is insane

made a new header for my tumblr! this time with some of my favorite dc characters ;)

Tommy doesn't like touch.

Wilbur came to realise this recently, after coming back from death.

No. Tommy doesn't like touch ANYMORE, he corrects himself as he notices that Tommy doesn't lean on anyone anymore. How he doesn't run up to Tubbo for a hug or how he will not pat Jack on the back with a "It's fine. You suck. Not everyone is a big man like me.". How he just looks sad when little Micheal wants to be picked up and starts trembling when someone get's too close, hand always on his sword.

Tommy hates touch.

But Wilbur wonders if that's true.

They broke into the pool area in Las Nevadas. Wilbur suggested it when they both couldn't sleep and were only boring their asses of sitting there and staring at the ceiling.

So here they were. Under watchful stars and in a city that had a party going on somewhere. Wilbur sitting at the edge of the pool, feet in the water and looking over Tommy who by the likes of it wanted to drown himself.

The blond was currently underwater hands and arms spread out like a starfish, slowly floating up and staying on top of the water for a quick moment before he repeated the procedure. Diving underwater and becoming a starfish. He looked oddly peaceful during it too.

"Why are you doing that?", he asked eventually after watching Tommy do it two more times and getting curious. Tommy never did that. The blond disliked water from what he remembered, always hissing like the gremlin he is when asked to take a bath. But then again, Wilbur missed a lot of Tommy's growth and forgot some parts of Ghostbur's life.

"Doing what?" Wilbur made wild gestures to the water to elaborate. "Ah." Tommy looked down sadly into the lit up pool.

Oh no...emotional stuff we don't do that, thought the brunette and was ready to backpaddle if it wasn't for the quiet " 'is nice" from the other.

"What?"

"It's nice. You know, it's everywhere. Kinda. Doesn't hurt me and I don't know. Just nice."

OK we will do the emotional stuff then. Fucking. Alright. Doesn't hurt. Everywhere.

Tommy. Hates. Touch.

Well that is a lie then. A miscalculation. A misinterpretation. Wilbur is a fool.

"Tommy come here. Sit. Sit fucking down. Out of the water"

"What. Why?

"Just do it come on. Here." He pats the place besides him.

He waits for Tommy to sit down. It was so awkward. It hadn't been this awkward before Wilbur died, before he went insane, before Tommy stopped receiving touch and finding comfort under the fucking water instead of in another living breathing being.

"OK bitch, I'm sitting what do you- "

"Can I hug you?"

"Wilbur what are you-"

"Can I hug you?"

"I-" Wilbur watched as the other started to tremble, bringing his arms up to hug himself or to protect himself. Fuck. Ok. He can do this.

He stood up and ignored the little flinch from Tommy. Went to get one of the big towels people used to lay down on to sunbath. Came back and started wrapping Tommy into it like a sushi, careful not to touch any skin. "I will not touch you directly or hurt you or anything just. Fuck. Can I hug you?"

If it were for different circumstances he would have coooed at the wide blue eyed stare he got from Tommy. Tommy, who looked so innocent staring from a towel and looking confused. Who's blond locks escaped the towel and were in his face. Who looked soft and vulnerable and not like a soldier but a tired kid.

"Sure?"

Good enough, thinks Wilbur and brings his arms up to slowly hold Tommy close. He is still tembeling and Wilbur makes sure to stand still and not to fucking move or else Tommy will bolt and the bonding time will be over and he will not be able to give his little brother the hug, he so desperately needed, or that he himself needed but no one was here to judge that.

And if Tommy moved at some point and nuzzled into Wilbur's chest and his clothes started to get wet, then it was because Tommy just splashed around in the pool and it had no connection to the quiete sobs that could be heard from him.

And if Wilbur joined in on the sobs and held his little brother closer then it was no one else's business but their own.