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cloudcountry · 1 year

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lovely little specimen

Genre/Tropes: No notable ones!!

Summary: You decide to surprise Jade with a mushroom fairy costume on Halloween.

Author's Comments: i would LOVE wearing one of those big mushroom hats. they look so cute and so extra i love them.

~~~~~

You felt your heart flutter in your chest as you approached the alchemy lab, a giant mushroom hat balanced on top of your head. There’s a pit of nerves twisting on your stomach that you try your best to ignore as Grim follows you to the building in his cute little witch costume. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t pick this outfit specifically for Jade, but his reaction is slowly becoming a source of dread. You know all too well that he’ll take this as an opportunity to humiliate you, but you reach out and open the front door despite your reservations. Grim grabs onto your leg with a quiet “mrah!” and you can practically feel him shaking.

There’s nobody to greet the two of you at the door as you slowly proceed into the hallway, the blue-green glow at the end of the it beckoning you further into the darkness. You feel like you’re being watched, you think, and you shiver as you clutch your little tote bag tighter.

The room emitting the glow is a laboratory, you realize. Peeking your head in, you don’t see anything overly suspicious. You should know better than you judge immediately though, as Octavinelle is known for their sneaky little tricks. Halloween was practically made for them.

Stepping over to the examination table, you try not to think too hard about what the various splatters of dark red and brown are (even though your mind screams dried blood.) Grim has been awfully quiet, so you look down only to see a blank space where he used to be. Fear grips your heart and you whip around, only to see Jade towering over you with his sharp teeth on full display.

You nearly bruise your hip with how hard you jump back, a small scream tearing its way from your throat at the close proximity. How the fuck did he get that close without you knowing? Since when did he move that quietly?! Great Seven, he was practically on top of you!

“Oh?” he steps closer, eyes raking over you form like a predator about to pounce, “What is this? A lovely little specimen stumbled into our lab...Hmm, how peculiar.”

You bunch the fabric covering your thighs in your hands, reminding yourself that this is just Jade, not a monster.

“Do you like the costume?” you ask, voice shaker than you would have liked, “I...worked really hard to put it together.”

Jade steps closer to you, a nasty smirk still on his face. You find yourself leaning back on instinct, and before you realize it Jade has you caged between him and the table with his arms.

“I appreciate the effort you put into this.” he hums, brushing his fingers along your sleeve, “Did you do it for me, Little Pearl?”

“Yes. I thought you’d...like it.” you mumble, turning your head away as he leans even closer.

He chuckles, and there’s a warm sweat that breaks out over your body at the sound. An arm snakes around your back, and for a moment you toy with the possibility of him not wanting you to bruise your back on the table. But no, this is Jade, and he’s doing it to ensure that you remain as trapped as possible within his grasp. You’re sure of it.

“How touching. I truly do have the best lover.” he smiles, this time without his teeth, and for a second his visage turns tender. You know Jade too well to be fooled, though, because he still hasn’t let you go.

“Jade...?” you say his name hesitantly, eyes darting nervously around the room. If you were to grip the table any harder, you’re certain the wood would snap underneath your fingers.

“Yes, Little Pearl?” he chuckles, eyelashes fluttering as his golden eye glows, the look as affectionate as it is foreboding.

“Your costume is nice too.” you fumble with your words, mouth curving into a wobbly smile, “You look handsome.”

“Charming.” he snickers, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “You flatter me, my dear.”

You open your mouth to reply, but your voice is caught in your throat as Jade presses a single kiss to your cheek. You feel his knuckle drag over the other side of your face as the black part of his hair brushes against your skin. His lips are soft and they linger, the skin that he touched tingling faintly. You’re left gaping as he squeezes your hip, pulling away.

“Apologies, my sweet. You looked too adorable to resist.” he hums, slinking off towards the door, “You best remember that this is a haunted establishment, and that my fellow Octavinelle students will not bestow any mercy upon you today.”

Your brain catches up to you and floods with questions on Grim’s whereabouts, but you can’t force any noise out of your throat as Jade smirks and wiggles his fingers at you, disappearing back into the hallway from whence you came as if he was never there to begin with.

You go through the rest of the haunted house and find Grim being chased around a table by Azul. Even after Halloween has ended, he still has not forgiven you for not finding him sooner.

But still. It was worth it.

#auburn's fics <3 #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #disney twst x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #twst jade leech #jade leech fluff #bastard jade leech #jade x reader #twst jade x reader #man i love jade leech

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bestfictionalplant · 2 months

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Bracket reveal

Text version under cut!

The tourney is split into 4 32 brackets, and the winners of each will go to the semi finals! I'll make a different post about HOW the tourney will run, and this will serve as a pinned post for round 1 :)

Bracket 1, Side 1

Peppino (Vampire Survivors) vs Winged Strawberry (Celeste)

Herb (Monster Hunter) vs Triffids (Day of the Triffids)

Gigi (Xiaolin Showdown) vs Silent Princess (The Legend of Zelda)

Breath of Evil (Wings of Fire) vs Thorn Thallid (Magic the Gathering)

Audrey II (Little Shop of Horrors) vs Farewell Flower (Mistborn)

Togemon (Digimon) vs Silverwood Tree (Witch Hat Atelier)

Golden Apple Tree (Greek Mythology) vs Potbelly (My Singing Monsters)

Sculk (Minecraft) vs MocDonald (One Piece)

Bracket 1, Side 2

Vida (The Promised Neverland) vs Glaze Lily (Genshin Impact)

Dr Brewer's Clone (Goosebumps) vs The Spring (Friends at the Table)

Kite Eating Tree (Peanuts) vs Zotoh Zhaan (Farscape)

Wheel Tree (His Dark Materials) vs Mushtree (I Was a Teenage Exocolonist)

Medusoid Mycelium (A Series of Unfortunate Events) vs Radial (Ooblets)

Chikorita (Pokemon) vs Blast Cone (League of Legends)

Gooloog (AAAHH!!! Real Monsters) vs Venus (Bug Fables)

The Thorian (Mass Effect) vs Yggdrasil (Norse Mythology)

Bracket 2, Side 1

Deku Tree (The Legend of Zelda) vs Blood Blossoms (Danny Phantom)

Hotblonde37159 (Angel: The Series) vs Vash the Stampede (Trigun)

Kinoko (Don't Hurt Me, My Healer) vs Wolfsbane (The Vampire Diaries)

Plant (Monster Rancher) vs Flower of Life (Mesopotamian Mythology)

Truffula Tree (The Lorax) vs Slurperon Enchantress (Internet Scam)

The Brain Tree (Neopets) vs Ginseng Baby (Scarlet Hollow)

Chompy (Bug Fables) vs Whispy Woods (Kirby)

Clavu (Overlord) vs Ivern (League of Legends)

Bracket 2, Side 2

Bulbasaur (Pokemon) vs The Trees of Valinor (Lord of the Rings)

Leslie (The Amazing World of Gumball) vs Hayzee Dayzee (Paper Mario)

Piranha Plant (Mario) vs Specimen 34/The Blessed Eternal (Wolf 359)

Potted Plant (Wander Over Yonder) vs Morbuzakh (Bionicle)

Jabe & the Trees of Cheem (Doctor Who) vs Black Mercy (DC)

Mr Plant (The World of Mr Plant) vs Feculant Gnarlmaw (Warhammer 40k)

Tree Rex (Skylanders) vs Flowey (Undertale)

Sundrop Flower (Tangled) vs Venus McFlytrap (Monster High)

Bracket 3, Side 1

Pinchley (Long Gone Gulch) vs Frank the Plant (Harley Quinn: the Animated Series)

The Venus (Hello From the Hallowoods) vs Nirnroot (The Elder Scrolls)

Food Fight (Skylanders) vs Paopu Fruit (Kingdom Hearts)

Phillogenous esk Piemondum (Rod Albright Alien Adventures) vs Plant (Wall E)

Tannot Root (Farscape) vs The Broccoloids (The Powerpuff Girls)

Rockbud (The Stormlight Archive) vs Sylvan Hound (Guild Wars 2)

Eldridge Johnson-Mayer (The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy) vs Hyacinth/Hyacinthus (Greek Mythology)

Selas Flower (Kingkiller Chronicle) vs Treant (Disgaea)

Bracket 3, Side 2

Dragonflame Cacti (Wings of Fire) vs Sunflower (Plants vs Zombies)

The Bioplant (The Rising of the Shield Hero) vs Turnip Boy (Turnip Boy Commits Tax Evasion)

Shambling Mound (Dungeons and Dragons) vs Mandrake (Shin Megami Tensei/Persona)

Cowplant (The Sims) vs Ebony Queen's Apple (Limbus Company)

Devil Fruits (One Piece) vs Donkey-Cabbage (Enchanted Forest Chronicles)

Oaktopus (My Singing Monsters) vs Field Dungeon (Rune Factory 4)

Mushroom Tree (Stardew Valley) vs Jumpkin (Cassette Beasts)

Undergrowth (Danny Phantom) vs Karzahni (Bionicle)

Bracket 4, Side 1

Dreamstalk (Kirby) vs Myconid (Balders Gate 3)

Stingbulb (Fablehaven) vs Treebeard (Lord of the Rings)

Stray Cat (Jojo's Bizarre Adventure) vs Peashooter (Plants vs Zombies)

Giant Turnip (Codename: Kids Next Door) vs Treasure Mushroom (Guild Wars 2)

Tree of Wisdom (Sonic the Hedgehog) vs Fire Flower (Mario)

Stump (The Angry Beavers) vs Groot (Marvel)

Maise (Oneshot) vs Konohana Tree (Okami)

Red Weed (War of the Worlds) vs Pod Plant (Fortnite)

Bracket 4, Side 2

Plantera (Terraria) vs The Grass Snake (Friends at the Table)

Breathweed (Warhammer 40k) vs Campestri (Dungeons and Dragons)

Neo Alraune (Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle) vs Kringlefucker (Homestuck)

Slimefoot the Stowaway (Magic: The Gathering) vs Gatfruit Tree (Space Station 13/14)

Sex Pollen Plant (Fanfiction) vs The Rumor Weed (VeggieTales: Larry-Boy and the Rumor Weed)

Dr Madley Radish (Papa Louie) vs Vervain (The Vampire Diaries)

Yatevon (OCTAHEDRON: Transfixed Edition) vs Echo Flower (Undertale)

Wither Rose (Minecraft) vs Hydramon (Digimon)

#poll bracket

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writeshite · 2 years

Text

Good Natured

Summary:

There are a great many mysteries in this world; some are solved by the advent of science, others remain secrets of the universe, but without a doubt, perhaps the greatest mystery known to humanity is how you willingly dated and continue to date the Homelander.

Pairings:

Homelander x Gender Neutral!Reader

Tags:

Magic!Reader | A Little Bit Of Flower Language | 5+1 Things (Sort Of) | Fluff | The Tiniest Wee Mention Of Violence

Words: 4584

Author's Note:

The original ask is here, requested by @ayamethewitch I spent three hours reading up on flower language, mainly cause I got sidetracked again. This turned out way longer than I thought it would, and idk how 😭

Every child dreams of becoming a superhero, flying through the sky, saving people from dangers, fame, fortune, and adoration. Annie’s looked to the skies and the heroes that came before with admiration and plastered her bedroom walls with their merchandise; she’d run around the house like she was flying, arms out and smile on her face. Now, as she stood in Vought, the newest member of the Seven, it was safe to say she was far more than just ecstatic.

Though it wasn’t really like anything she’d imagined - the Seven and various other supes stood around the room; the public had had their fill of her, so now, she mingled with her fellow heroes. She’d been nibbling on the same cookie for the past thirty minutes - Stormfront and Homelander were the big no-nos; the two were in the midst of showing off - Queen Maeve had spoken to her for a bit before moving on. Annie was now standing by the Deep and Black Noir, half-listening to whatever the topic of conversation was.

“Hey,” a new voice called out softly. Annie turned, and you held out your hand, “Bloodroot, lovely to meet you.”

“Bloodroot….” Annie says the name cautiously, shaking your hand, and examines you. You’re, for lack of a better term, perhaps the oddest one in the room - your witch hat resembles a mushroom, and your loose pale green shirt has various flowers threaded on the sleeves. It dips down on your chest, exposing the multiple necklaces you have; your pants are a dark color, as are your shoes. Annie notices the necklaces and rings you have all have some form of star-like symbol; if not gold, they’re either red, blue, or white. ‘Reminds me of Homelander,’ she thinks to herself.

“Yeah, it’s a dramatic name, but it does the trick,” you wink. A few petals bloom from the corner of your eye; they drift to the floor and melt into the ground. Annie gawked at you, and you shrugged, “It’s kind of on point, though.”

“That was amazing,” she says, and you wave her off.

“Not really, making petals’ a parlor trick, although….” you trail off, taking off your hat, you shove your hand in it and stick your tongue out, fishing for something, you pull a whole bouquet of yellow roses, and hand them over to her. “Yellow roses to brighten up your day.”

When Annie takes them, the petals open, twisting out to become butterflies that flutter around her, leaving a trail of golden sparkles. The sparkles fall on her, leaving a slight glow and bringing a smile to her face; the stems unravel, and the leaves burst into birds, settling on her shoulders. The unraveled stalks shoot up, then burst like fireworks, Annie’s smile gets wider as she marvels at your magic, “Holy shit….”

“Welcome to Vought, Starlight,” you say.

The others around had stopped their conversations and joined Annie in marveling, some reached out to the butterflies as they drifted away from her. A few looked just about ready to rush towards you and ask for more magic marvels but resisted doing so. John hated the attention you gave new supes, but it helped them feel less nervous and brought a smile to their faces. Granted, it also meant that a few would latch onto you for a few days before John would threaten them.

“Don’t I get any flowers?” Kevin pouted.

“No.” You almost groan at the sound of John’s voice; he’d gone from his little show-off to your side at the mere mention of flowers from the Deep. He placed his hand on your waist and frowned, glaring daggers at the other hero, “Sorry, Guppy, but my partner’s not some charity.”

“John —”

“Partner?” Annie questions, and John takes your hand, turning it over to showcase the various rings on your hand; he points to one in particular - the band resembles a vine, twisting towards the center and around three diamonds in the middle. The band wraps around the jewels like a branch would emerge from a tree, “Wow.” It’s all she can say; she’s only been around for a few hours, but from the little she knows so far - you and Homelander are on two ends of the personality spectrum.

You shake your head as John proudly displays the ring; he doesn’t let go of your hand, instead keeping it in his hold as he stares down the Deep. You’d given him flowers once, and John had thrown a right fit about it, Annie gulps nervously, and you elbow John. “Starlight, is it?” he turns to the newest addition to the team, and she anxiously nods, shaking his hand with a tight smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to welcome you properly.”

Her tight smile loosens when you toss her a reassuring smile, “So…” she starts, “how long….uh….have you been married?”

“We’re not married, well, not publicly,” John responds, “as far as the public’s aware, we’re recently engaged. Vought likes the opposites attract story, and I like showing off my partner.”

“How did you meet?” Annie asks; she directs the question at both of you but looks to you.

“I tried shoving my hat down his throat,” you reply, almost deadpanned, it brings a snort out of Annie, “Course, it didn’t work, so I settled for almost turning him into a tree.” She laughs, then reigns it back when John glares at her, “...sorry, sorry….” but then you laugh, and she takes that as a sign that she’s safe to do so again.

The party’s died down since your welcome gift as people mill about, and the excitement settles down; John grows weary of the conversation, tapping his foot impatiently. When you and Annie’s laughter dies down, he starts to steer you away, footsteps slow as you bid goodbye to the new supe, “Don’t hesitate to find me if you need help,” you say, elbowing John again when he shakes his head sternly, eyes tinted red.

Annie watches you get swept away, now, just you and John; she notes how the supe’s figure nearly wraps around you as if to block anyone from laying eyes on you. It’s not just her; it seems; the other guests all wait for Homelander to direct his attention - however brief - elsewhere before looking at you. Some practically avert their gaze when you pass by, and Annie has to take a moment to grasp the soft (?) look Homelander gives you.

“Strange aren’t they?” the Deep remarks, “Don’t worry, you’re not the only one who wonders how Homelander got them to date him.” He assures her, “By the way, his hearing barely registers when they’re around, so nothing you say will have him ripping your lungs out.”

Yeah, nothing quite like she imagined.

Every day, the damage control department at Vought sends kisses towards the photo they have of you. The picture hangs framed in the back corner, tucked away in a tiny cubicle, where the tired department has set up their offerings - see before you, they had it tough, cleaning up after one supe was hard enough, but cleaning up after Homelander was a nightmare. Then, like an angel, you graced this world, and their jobs became easier, Homelander’s damage rate decreased, and they could rest easy, knowing they wouldn’t have to sacrifice countless nights to fix things.

Various other departments had their own altars, but damage control was the main one - it was well hidden, polished daily, and sometimes prayed to as well. This was all, of course, on a need-to-know basis; Homelander didn’t quite appreciate anyone so much as looking at you for too long; Anika shuddered to think what he’d do if he found out. Security had personal altars, all tucked away by their stations - hers consisted of a vase of sweet peas and yellow lilies, a subtle way to convey gratitude. The combo was very common around security, and some had even gone as far as to wear it on their person.

The higher-ups were none the wiser, and no one felt inclined to inform them on the matter. “Your flower’s drooping.” The silent worship you received from the Vought employees also brought about superstitions - letting flowers die on Vought grounds could bring misfortune or, worse, Homelander (somehow). As if Anika didn’t already have enough to fear from this godforsaken job.

She tended to leave her flowers till the day they were shriveled before replacing them; her coworkers all shook their heads at her as she dumped the old flowers. She’d already had her last break of the day, so she’d have to wait and come back tomorrow with new flowers. She shook off the nagging feeling, focusing on her work; just when she thought she was home-free, low and behold, Homelander comes charging into the room, eyeing each and every one of them as he lays out his demands - she prays he just waltzes past her, but he doesn’t. Choosing her to find what he needs and to find it now.

Her hands slightly tremble as she works; the supe stands over her, arms collapsed behind his back - she thinks she can feel the heat of his laser eyes as she takes what he deems as too long. He’s almost fed up with her slow progress when salvation appears; you waltz into the room - your iconic hat gone - you don a classy suit-like attire, with a waist cape and fingerless gloves, you look every bit the witch Vought market you out to be.

“There you are,” you say, coming up to them. Anika’s coworkers try not to seem too nosy, but some have their heads slightly turned in her direction. “John, you’re bothering the poor dear.”

“I’m not bothering her; am I bothering you?” John asks in a demanding tone. Anika’s not sure what answer he expects, but she shakes her head, a strained smile on her face, “See.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re bothering her, John; come on, if you’re that bored, I’m sure we can find you something else to do.” You grab his arm, tugging lightly; he takes a step, then turns back to Anika, “You can get the report sent up to you; now come on.” You tug a few more times, and he finally turns to leave; you move to follow but pause, hand reaching out to Anika’s vase. Sweet peas and yellow lilies sprout from nothing, “Should last you longer than the last ones,” you tell her.

Her head snaps to you, as do the heads of everyone else, but you just chuckle and leave them with a wink. Anika leaves an offering at every altar in the building for a whole week after, a grand gesture of thanks that she’s still breathing. She’s on her way to damage control when she bumps into you; she steps back and thanks you profusely.

“No problem at all,” you tell her, “feel free to come to me if you need any help.”

She nods, watching you as you go by, then averts her gaze when Homelander rounds the corner. You take one of his arms, disrupting his perfect posture, threading your fingers through his; you almost skip in the corridor - Anika leaves extra on that offering.

Whatever Ashley did in a past life to deserve this, she’d like to repent for now at this very instance.

Of course, you happen to fall sick on the day of a major interview, and of course, the doctors forbid you from leaving the bed until it's passed. The first wave of get-well-soon flowers get returned when your sneezing makes them explode; Homelander practically bars anyone aside from the doctors from stepping foot in your shared suite.

“John, I can’t get better if you chase away the doctors.” You try to sit up, but John pushes you back down, wrapping you to your neck in blankets. It wasn’t anything too serious, most likely just a cold; a week’s worth of bed rest should do you some good. The doctors had been sent to double-check and make sure the diagnosis was correct; you wrangle your hands from the cocoon you’re in, taking John’s hands in yours. “Dear, I don’t need to be buried in mountains of blankets.”

“Yes, you do,” he insists, “that’s what people do when they’re sick.”

Ashley nods her head to herself, he’s not wrong, but she thinks he might be smothering you - not that she says that aloud. Homelander hasn’t left your side since you woke up with the cough; he’d thrown out all the flowers when someone had commented on pollen allergies - not that he knows if you’ve got them - you’re decked head to toe in cozy clothing. An hour ago, the heating had been up to the max, but you’d put it back down after Ashely had shown some discomfort.

“Homelander, sir,” she interrupts, gulping when Homelander turns to her with crimson eyes, “the interview starts in —” she ducks, barely managing to dodge the laser from his eyes.

“What did I say about the interview?”

She whimpers, “The executives said….” her eyes dart away, “....they said it’s not an option.”

Your coughing fit draws his attention away from her, and she sighs in relief; he speeds off, returning with a glass of water. He puts the edge of the cup by your lips, you manage half the glass, but Homelander doesn’t move, insisting you finish the rest. He pushes your hair back, shirking off his glove, and placing the back of his hand on your forehead - your running temperature is running almost as high as he usually does. The medicine they’d given you had been sickeningly sweet, and even now, John could still smell it in your breath - you’re eyes droop, and you’re on the verge of nodding off, yet stubbornly, you refuse to sleep until this matter is resolved.

“Sleep,” John demands, but you shake your head.

“Not until you promise to go to the interview.” Your voice is raspy, and you’re quite literally hanging on a thread; your mind is foggy, and your limbs feel heavy; the plush comfort of the bed lulls you further and further from the waking world. “John,” you persist until he groans, agreeing to it; once you’re sure he’s not just saying it to get you off his back, you give in to the fatigue. John tucks you in bed, a kiss on your head; he switches off the lights and drags Ashley out of the room.

“You don’t leave them alone for anything,” he seethes, “I don’t care if the building catches fire; you stay by their side until I’m back. Got it?”

Ashley nods, eyes wide as she tries not to wince at the tight grip the supe has on her forearm; Homelander straightens back to his signature posture, and she tries not to quiver at the way he scrutinizes her. She walks back into the room where you rest, grabbing a chair; she puts it close to the bed but moves back when the room takes on a scarlet glow. Homelander’s footsteps echo as he leaves; your face is half hidden under the blankets, and she doesn’t reach out to touch you - on the off chance your maniac’s using his x-ray vision to spy on her. She takes back what she’d been thinking earlier; she’d obviously been lucky enough not to be stuck with Homelander in this life.

Channel One prided itself in being the first at everything; over the years, they’d been the first to interview Vought and give the public the best of what journalism had to offer. Today, they had the luck of interviewing the it couple at Vought - Homelander and Bloodroot - the opposites that attracted the title’s still in work. Jennifer prided herself in being the one to catch this interview - the last interview hadn’t been a bust per se, but you’d been sick, and Homelander had been on edge the whole time.

She’d gotten a double couch for you and Homelander to sit on, and an armchair for herself, an assortment of flowers had been arranged for you - anthuriums for hospitality and heathers for admiration - not the usual combo they’d pick for guests but anything vaguely romantic like a rose might have her losing her arm to the Homelander. The live studio audience sounded excited; they murmured among themselves as they anticipated your arrival. They quieted down when you entered the room, followed closely behind by Homelander. You and the supe sat close together on the double couch, his arm draped behind you on the back, his other hand holding one of yours in his lap.

She held out her hand to introduce herself but pulled it back when Homelander stopped you from reaching out. She smoothed down her hands on her skirt, the director signaled, and the cameras started rolling, “Good evening and welcome; tonight, we return with Homelander, accompanied by his partner, Bloodroot.”

The audience clapped, and she handed you the flowers, “From everyone in the studio, we’re happy to see you up and about this week,” she said, ignoring the slight eye roll from the other supe.

You thank her, fingers thrumming on them, the vines twisted around themselves, and they went from bouquet to flower crown; the audience gasped, “So, tell us about your upcoming engagement party, what should we expect for the future of Bloodroot and Homelander?”

“Well, you can expect a lot more of this,” Homelander kisses you; it’s short, but it tugs at the heartstrings, “and a big wedding,” he adds on.

“That’s sweet,” she comments. The interview is a lot easier than the last one, Homelander’s still the egotistical bastard he usually is, but he tries to reign it in - barely. The flower crown on your head remains as elegant as it was when you’d made it, Jennifer has a blast, and the audience has fun chiming in with their own questions. She remembers the first time you and Homelander had an interview with Channel One - it had been at the beginning of your relationship, and the number of proposals you received was astounding.

“So, aside from all that, do the two of you plan to start a family?” Jennifer asks.

You scoff, “Doubt it.”

“I prefer to have my partner’s undivided attention,” Homelander replies, shuffling closer to you. The audience is split in answers; some sigh in disappointment, others cheer - the interview ends with applause; when the cameras stop rolling, and the lights go out, Jennifer watches backstage as Homelander piles treat atop treat, mostly sweet, the two of you stand off in your own little corner, the supe devoted to listening to every word you said.

Hughie would like it on record that this had been Billy’s idea, not his, Billy’s. Because who else would think of kidnapping the world’s most overpowered psychopath's partner - though how they managed to get the jump on you is another matter entirely. Annie had helped; well, as soon as she’d made them all promise nothing would happen to you, screw what happened to Homelander; she wanted assurances you’d be safe.

“They’re not as bad as Homelander.” She’d been arguing back and forth with Billy; the subject of what to do with you had been the hot topic for the past few hours. They couldn’t step foot outside the lead shielded basement without a foolproof plan - Homelander had been rampaging across the country looking for you. “If we try, maybe we can convince them to help us.”

“You’re talking about the same bloke who stood by that fucking cunt,” Billy argued, “They’re married to him for fuck’s sake; what makes you think they don't know about him?”

Annie hesitated, “They’re not like that —”

“Just cause they helped you on your first day doesn’t mean they’re not gonna turn you to mush at the first chance.” Billy points at the wedding photo from last year; it had been as grand as Homelander had said it would be, “They slept with the cunt, they kiss the cunt, they married the cunt, they’re as bad as the cunt.”

“Well, at least I’m trying,” Annie says, “all you’ve come up with is making this a hostage situation as if we have the muscle to handle that.”

“Oh yeah, and what if your friend in there goes back and blabs about us to their husband? What then? You know how Homelander gets; you willing to have your head blown off?”

Hughie turns away as the timer goes off, he opts to hand you your food to avoid getting dragged into the argument again. You’d been placed in the most lead-shielded area of the hideout - Annie had fitted it to be more comfortable than its usual concrete flooring, she’d also brought miscellaneous books from your suite, and you’d been rereading those for the days you were trapped here.

“Any chance you’ll let me walk out of here today?” you ask, but Hughie shakes his head. “Worth a shot,” you shrug.

Hughie doesn’t quite understand you; you’re not as malicious as the other people at Vought, or even most of the supes, so why on Earth did you choose to marry Homelander? Annie had said it was for genuine love, Frenchie had morbidly remarked that maybe you suffered from some form of Stockholm Syndrome, Billy had scoffed - the answers varied and against his better judgment - and the strict rule of not making conversation with you - he asked.

“Oh, well, because he asked,” you replied, glancing down at the ring on your finger; you twist it with a small smile, “and I’d already gone through the trouble of falling in love with him.”

“But he’s —”

“A murderous cunt with the emotional intelligence of a three-year-old on steroids?” you provided, and he nodded, “Yeah, I’ve gotten my fair share of concerned letters from fans and anti-Homelander fans alike. He’s complicated, and —”

There’s a crash upstairs, and Maeve’s voice carries through, she’s just arrived, and no doubt joined the argument. “Any chance you’ll divorce him and help us put him down?”

You shake your head, “Not likely,” you reply, “but I can agree to possibly holding off his murderous tendencies long enough to have you escape in one piece and hopefully making sure he doesn’t hunt you down after.” You smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“You know then,” he mutters, “about….” he gestures to nothing, in particular, hand waving around in the air.

“It’s hard to miss, especially when he comes to bed with bits of human still in his hair.”

Hughie leaves you; he finds Annie and Billy have stopped arguing, but they occupy opposite ends of the room, Maeve in between, rubbing her temple and no doubt nursing another headache. “This plan was a mess from the beginning,” she mumbles, “did either of you even think this through?”

“Well, I was thinking we could use them to get Homelander to heel,” Billy voices, “Miss starshine over there wants us to hold hands and sing kumbayah with ‘em.”

“That’s not what I said —”

“ —might as well have.”

“Enough,” Maeve yelled, “Homelander’s been plowing his fist through people’s chests looking for them, he’s burned abandoned lots looking for them, and he’s getting crazier and harder to predict by the second.”

“How bad is it?” M.M asks, finally feeling the need to join the conversation.

“His costume’s more red now that it is blue,” Maeve responds, “We’ve gotta take them back.”

“How? Homelander’s been circling the planet 24/7; he so much as hears their voice outside these walls, we’re dead in a heartbeat.” Frenchie laments.

“Unless,” M.M. chimes in, “what if we leave and then have Maeve respond to an anonymous tip.” He accentuates the last two words with air quotations, “At least a couple hours after we high tail out of here.”

“That’s a stupid idea,” Billy says.

It’s their only idea, at least the only one that doesn’t involve any of them getting killed; they pack up everything and make it look like a construction company moving out and about. They don’t go too far - a lone truck driving speedily away from where Homelander’s partner is found a few hours into the morning would no doubt be suspicious - they park just behind one of the other buildings nearby, hiding away on the second floor of one of them. As planned, Maeve shows up first, Annie and the remaining Seven behind her; they step aside at the sound of a crack in the sky as Homelander lands upfront.

The ground isn’t perfect when he lands, shattering like glass; some of the concrete flies up as he rushes in, and the lead door flies through one of the walls a few minutes later, followed by a frustrated scream, then nothing. There are a few moments of silence, and Annie and Maeve share an uneasy look. Just as they were about ready to follow, the doors swung open, and out came Homelander, you carried bridal style in his arms.

“John, I can walk fine,” they could hear you insisting, but the supe was resolute, flying off before anyone could utter a word.

The Deep lets out a sigh, doubling over on his knees, “Oh, thank god, we found them; I don’t know how much longer I could survive with Homelander that hopped up and manic.”

John doesn’t leave your side even when you get back to Vought towers; the doctors have to work around him as he glares down at each and every one of them. He doesn’t trust the food brought to you and has several of the humans who do bring it to taste it first, waiting to see if any of them pass out or die. You haven’t told him about Annie or Maeve, and you’re not going to; judging by how close he is to punching a hole through the wall, you opt to keep that little nugget of information tucked away.

It’s just the two of you now; John’s bloody uniform is lying in the corner of your shared bathroom, and you’re sitting between his legs, leaning back on him in the bathtub. The bathtub. is spacious enough, but he’s tucked himself in one end with you. You’d already helped him wash off the blood, and he’d taken his time running the soap down your body, reassuring himself you were, in fact, real.

The water’s lukewarm now, so you pat his hand, but it takes a few more pats and a knock on the door to get him to move. You stand from the tub alongside him, but he guides you out, hand on your lower back, as the other grabs one of the robes; he has it gathered up to your neck; he wraps one of the towels around your neck and then opens the door - Ashley goes over a few more details, then leaves you and John to your evening.

“I’ll find them,” John mutters on your skin, “....make sure they die painfully.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

He doesn’t say anything, eyes void as he helps you change into sleep attire, “I’m serious, John, promise me you won’t do anything rash.” He nods stiffly, hugging you so as to hide his face as he mentally plans the demise of your kidnappers.

End Note:

This has been a rather long fic, and I have no idea where it started or where it ended 💀 Stay Hydrated.

#homelander x gender neutral!reader #homelander x reader #the boys imagine #shiterequests #flower language is both fascinating and overwhelming to me #flower 🌸 au

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ceruleancattail · 11 months

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Abandoned

/əˈband(ə)nd/

adjective

having been deserted or left.

Fabric that crinkled before your touch. Countless years of neglect has done its damage onto the trap. Colours of red and yellow, now faded into a dull shade of grey.

A ghost of what once was.

Fingers trailing over the cloth, little specks of dust clinging into your fingertips, staining your hand a pitch black.

The colour of the night.

In hindsight, you shouldn’t have come here alone.

Circuses were supposed to be visited with company, no?

The smell of popcorn wafting through the air. Delighted squeals of children, running around. Boisterous hollers of salesmen, inviting you to play their games. They’re always rigged, but it’s fun to try.

Laughing with a friend or two, hands full of prizes from the fairground. Jostling with the crowd for a good spot, excitedly anticipating the wonders of a single’s night dream.

Unfortunately, it has been years since a show was held. Nothing but the dull hum of crickets crying, leaves rustling in the breeze. Deep, soulful howls of the wind echoed in your ears.

Mourning what once was.

This circus tarp has stood alone for all that time, slowly decaying from the inside. It sags into itself, slowly but surely caving in. Collapsing on the weight of a thousand wistful memories.

Faded colours, broken lights, glass splinters littered across the ground. Still feebly sparkling in the moonlight, desperately trying to relive the days of the past.

Your fingers press into the handle of your torch, the cool metal biting into your palm. Holding it up, you watch the light illuminate the tarp. Grabbing a fold, you toss it aside. An abyss of ebony black.

A sigh, before you took a step in.

A curtain of dust rained onto your head. Choking back a sneeze, you rise your torch. Rows after rows of wooden seats, covered in dirt and grime. Mushrooms lined the decaying wood, little caps peeking out ever so shyly.

A row of weatherbeaten stairs lead straight down into the centre. The arena, where the performers would dazzle with their tricks, bringing out queer creatures, both big and small. There were a wide variety. Strange beings, claws long and sharp, eyes that lingered on the audience a little too intelligently.

Resting a hand on the fence. A barrier of sorts. To keep the audience out… or to keep the beasts within.

Fumbling with the clasp, you managed to unlock it. The gate swings open with a raspy squeak, crimson red rust sticking to your skin. The metallic scent stung your nostrils, stabbing deep within your nose. Wincing, you slip into the gates, walking into the arena.

Props lay aside, veiled with a thin layer of cobwebs. Hoops once set ablaze with flames now scattered throughout the floor, having lived out their glory days. Kicking those aside, your eyes met a ebony pupil.

A glass case lay in the centre of the arena. The words “Ask the Mage!” hung loosely from the top, frayed strings barely connecting it with the case.

Cracks spiralling out from the corners, jagged lines stretching across the glass. Grime covered the case, making the inside appear shrouded by fog.

Placing your palm onto the glass, you stare intensely, trying to get a closer look. Dull, lifeless eyes of black stare back at you. Plastic, with a unsettling sort of gaze. Pink strands of hair fell from their head, a white witch’s hat knocked askew.

Glancing down, you see a rusted coin slot. Scribbled next to it hastily in scarlet are the words: “Do not use.”

Your eyes meet those lifeless pupils of black. A pang of pity struck through your heart. You could just imagine this mage speaking, moving in a robotic fashion. Delighting the crowds with their witty answers.

Digging into your pocket, you fish out a coin. Slowly, you align it with the slot, before releasing it. Let the mage speak, one last time.

It falls into the machine with a hollow rattle. Your shoulders tense, ready to spring into action. Silence. Nothing but the rustle of the wind to keep you company.

Well, it’s a old machine. You shouldn’t have expected much…

A knock. Once, twice. Before a fist comes barreling onto the glass, beating it with a resounding crash. Jumping back, you gaze at the case, eyes wide.

A husky laugh, distorted eerily from within the glass. Those black pupils turn to focus on you now, a sinister leer. Mouth sealed shut, yet their words still flowed out. Tunneling their way into your head, echoing throughout your skull.

Hysterical laughter.

“You let me speak! You let me speak!”

Those eyes lock onto yours, before the mage utters a single word.

“Run.”

They drop down, lifeless once more. Slowly, you crept forward, before rapping at the glass with your knuckles.

Nothing. Not a single sound, from the mage, or from around you. The crickets have ceased, the wind has gone silent.

A shiver clawed its way down your spine, frost creeping from its base. Goosebumps raced up your arms, a uncontrollable tremble wrecking your limbs.

What did that mage tell you?

Run.

#The Faded Moon #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #oc event

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the-gnomish-bastard · 9 months

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A parody of The Red Baron by Sabaton:

The Red Bastard

Gnome and machine and magic there in between

The flying island and a gnome from Helmgar

The sky and a tower, this man commands his domain

The wizard island and all the way to Helmgar

Death from above, you're under fire

Hat red as blood, he's casting higher

Born a bastard from the mushrooms to the skies

That's where the legend will arise

And he's flying

Higher, the gnome of the sky

He's casting too fast and he's flying too high

Higher, an eye for an eye

The bastard will never die

First to the scene, he is a lethal machine

It's Bloody Krelmore and the tide is turning

Fire at will, it is the thrill of the kill

Four in a day shot dead with witches burning

Embrace the fame, red hatted bastard

Call out his name: "Gnomus Wizardus"

In the game to win, the Grankler strikes but twice

So many kobolds paid the price

And he's flying

Higher, the gnome of the sky

He's casting too fast and he's flying too high

Higher, an eye for an eye

The bastard will never die

Higher

Higher, the gnome of the sky

He's casting too fast, again, he's flying too high

He's getting higher, an eye for an eye

The bastard will never die

Higher

Born a bastard from the mushrooms to the skies

And the bastard never dies

And he's flying

Higher, the gnome of the sky

He's casting too fast and he's flying too high

Higher, an eye for an eye

The bastard will never die

Higher, the gnome of the sky

He's casting too fast and he's flying too high

Higher, an eye for an eye

The bastard will never die

#wizard #wizard posting #wizardposting #wizard tumblr #gnome #gnome post #artificer #the red baron #sabaton

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blazenfire223 · 6 months

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[ID in undercut]

Days 6-8

Day 6.

3 witches of the rev au on a coffee break.

This is supposed to be Zaraphim's kitchen. Backgrounds are hard, and colors are too.

Day 7- Weapon

David/Anza- chibiq122 on insta

(Anza is a fusion of Ana and Bun)

Raphael/Azazel- ish7ar on insta

Zaphikiel- windmogica on insta

Day 8. Mushroom

Eden with some mushrooms they collected!

[ID 1/5: A digital illustration of Zaraphim, Madame Tracy, and Anathema, the 3 witches of the Rev AU. They're sitting in Zaraphim's kitchen drinking coffee and tea together. There are various things on the table like gens, crystals, stones, and cards. Zaraphim is leaning back in their chair, tipping it on two legs. There is a green carpet under the table. Tracy and Zaraphim are wearing Witch hats. Zaraphim is wearing a grey dress with a muted green corset vest and brown boots, blue earings, blue hair peice, pink sunglasses. Tracy is wearing a dark greenish blue dress with a light green stripe at the bottom, a pearl necklace, and bright red heels. Anathema is wearing a light blue shirt, a dark greenish blue skirt, dark brown boots, and grey compression sleeves. In the background is a fridge, oven, cookie jar, some higher up pantries, coffee maker, paper towels, and a potted plants. There are also vines that grow along the wall of the kitchen. /End ID]

[ID 2/5: One traditional page of 3 Reverse AU weapons. The top is Ario's sword which looks most like a scimitar. The blade is curved and has a golden guard and a wooden hilt with a gold bulb at the end, the pummel. Next is David's spear. David, belongs to @chibiq122 and his spear made of gold from heaven's gates. It has a sharp triangular tip with two curving spikes just below the arrow head and a dark redish purple cloth attached to the end. Next if Zaphikiel's Katana. Zaphikiel, an angel Crowley who belongs to @windmogica, had a golden katana with a gold circular guard and red and white hilt with gold studs. End ID]

[ID 3/5: A traditional page of 3 Reverse AU weapons. The top is Anza's whip. Anza is a fusion of Ana and Bun, both characters that belong to @chibiq122. Anza's whip is a combination of a magic want with a bunny on one end of the want and then a flower that blooms into a string of web silk. Towards the end of the whip it branches off into 3 other strings with hearts at the end. The design very inspired by Amethyst's whip from Steven Universe. The next weapon is Azazel's sword. Azazel belongs to @ish7ar. It is a long blue sword with the blue eye of a goat as the guard and a dark blue grip with a light blue pummel. Surrounding that eye are 6 spikes, 3 spikes on each side of the eye. The final sword is Raphael's sword, specifically @ish7ar's Raphael. Their sword is gold and has a dark redish grip, a guard that goes out and points down on both sides, and an orange-yellow gem stone as the pummel. /End ID]

[ID 4/5: A traditional illustration of Eden. They are looking down in a basket full of mushrooms with a grin. They're wearing a green sweater and glasses with beads of bugs, circles, and hearts attached on a string around their neck to keep the glasses from getting lost. /End ID]

[ID 5/5: The prompt list. /End ID]

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #blazenfire223 #blazenfire223's art #good omens art stuffs #ineffablerevautober #good omens reverse au #madame tracy #anathema device #star weaver au #bun and dove au #gone omens #bastard omens

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lovebillyhargrove · 10 months

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Harringrove seasons AU

***

August is running out. It is the time when nights have already started getting perceptibly colder, but days are still so heartbreakingly warm, you don't wanna let go.

Like Steve, who doesn't want to let go of Billy.

Or Billy, who wants to hold on to Steve.

Who desperately wishes to add just a couple of more days to August. Make it thirty-three. Or thirty-five.

At least.

***

One evening Steve sets off to look for Billy, because he hasn't seen him in the last three days. When he asks the magpies if they know where the summer is, they tell him he's wandering around the woods with a big basket searching for something and talking to himself like a madman.

"The summer's gone cuckoo!" - they burst out into chatter and laughter, but Steve isn't up for having fun.

Only close to midnight does he finally find Billy.

The warm simmering light and the sweet smell of burning pine wood have led him on the right path.

Steve sees Billy in the thick of the forest, on a small clearing, surrounded by tall mighty oak trees, so tall that their tops get lost in the dark starry sky above. Stars in August are witchy, it is common knowledge. They are so distant, so sparkly and cold, and they are watching you.

August stars are enchanted just like everything else around. The night is cool and damp, and there is dense fog laying heavy in milky swirls above and around the swamp nearby. Under every leaf there lives a mystery, a story, a creature. Behind one single cloud hides the silver moon, waiting to flood all with its crisp eerie shine.

The stars are twinkling bright, so magically bright, and the chilly, hocus scented air fills the head of a midnight wanderer with clarity and vigor, and anticipation of a miracle.

Steve is trying to be as quiet as possible, not to disturb.

Everything around is immersed in sleepy calm, and only the frogs' drowsy ribbit-ribbitting and distant hooting of a night bird fill the deep silence. The usual night orchestra.

As he is making his way towards Billy, there's a falling star, shooting right above the clearing, and Steve makes a wish - to always find summer.

Billy is busy.

Steve sees a big fire, sparks flying up towards the invisible tree crowns, and Billy's focused face lightened by the glow.

He is constantly stirring something gurgling and boiling in a huge cauldron, muttering under his breath

"Seven red fly agarics, nine orange ones .. three yellow .. thirteen russules, each a different colour .. eight orange chanterelle mushrooms of different sizes .."

With one hand he stirs whatever is brewing in the cauldron, and in the other he holds a thread with dry and semi-dry mushrooms strung on it. From time to time, he stops stirring and plucks the mushrooms from the thread, counting.

"Eleven brown hay mushrooms, one birch chaga, the size of a palm .. where the hell is this chaga .. ??" - he stops stirring and pokes around in the basket standing nearby. - "Alright. Found it. Come here, don't fight it .. seventeen honey fungi .. three aspen mushrooms .. ugh, you are such beauties .. All of you."

Billy looks like a witch. Too bad he's not wearing a spiked black hat and a black cloak

Stirring, mixing that magic

"Wait a second, did I put twelve ink mushrooms .. ? Yes, yes, I did. Ten violet webcaps .. and one whole circle of fairy-ring mushrooms."

"Oh, I forgot you buddy .. one grey spotted amantia, here you go .."

"Okay now for the more serious stuff."

Billy grunts and goes digging in the basket again.

"One satan's bolete .. A set of devil's fingers .. spooky .. And, finally, one pale grebe."

Steve steps out into the clearing

"Oh, do you mean a death angel?"

Billy stops mixing whatever there is in the cauldron and looks up.

"You startled me, pretty boy. And yes, it's the same one, different names."

Steve is still watching Billy in bewilderment

"What on earth are you doing?"

"I'm making a potion. Can't you see?" He answers seriously.

"A potion?" Steve is amused.

"An old owl told me. Who lives in the hollow of a hundred-year-old elm tree, down by the river."

"What is the potion for?"

"For .. making it last a little longer. Stalling the time. See, I don't want to go yet. I want to stay, just a bit more .. It's going to give me the power to do that."

"Oh. But .. Billy, this old owl is so old, she has dementia. I wouldn't trust her on anything she says."

"Well, I've got no other choice."

Steve is amused but he also knows that he has to soothe Billy's unnecessary wilful wanting, once again.

"When will it be ready?"

"In the morning. I should drink it when the first sun ray breaks the sky."

Steve sits near the fire and Billy joins him after some time. The fire is getting duller, the potion stops gurgling and is beginning to settle.

Billy is the first to slide into sleep near the dying flames, and Steve is gazing at the bright live coals, listening to night sounds and Billy's even breath, until his own eyelids become heavy and eventually fall.

In the morning, Steve is woken up by Billy's upset voice:

"No, no! I'm two hours late! .. The sun is already high in the sky."

He is pacing around the grey ashes, looking at the sky and fiddling with his necklace

"No, oh no ..! That's all your fault, autumn. I always sleep longer when I'm with you. I can't drink it now. Do you know how long I've searched for these?? How many woods I have wandered through?"

In a swift fit of anger Billy kicks the cauldron. It falls and tips over. Steve's still on the ground, watching the thick substance pour out of it on a patch of green moss.

"I am sorry, Billy, truly. But .. I am of the opinion that you shouldn't have drunk it anyways."

Billy's looking at the spilled potion.

"Baby. You are such a baby sometimes, Billy."

"I'm just sad. So much work for nothing." - Billy sighs and pouts a little.

"It is only .. really, it is only less than half a year. We will meet so soon, in the northern hemisphere. Aren't you excited?"

Billy is shaking his head, slowly and gloomily.

"I don't wanna leave."

Steve gets up, comes close and gently traces his fingers down Billy's arm.

"You are not leaving just yet. We still have time. We have all the time in the world. But when you do go, think of the moment we will meet again. Because it will happen, it is the way the world works."

They are standing amidst the ever-living nature.

"I need to bring back the pot and the basket. I borrowed them from a barn in the village."

"I will help you."

***

A couple of days later, on the very last August day, Steve takes Billy to the same clearing and shows him the prettiest gemstone of the most amazing colour, sparkling under the rays of soft morning sunshine, crystallized in the shape of a heart. There's moss and some beautiful exotic flowers growing around it.

"It is so pretty, but I am glad you didn't drink the potion."

"I wonder if it's going to stay here till next season."

"Let's hide it."

Steve takes the gemstone, it's rather big and heavy, and carries it to a hollowed out log near the swamp.

"We can come back next year and see if it is still here. It will be our secret."

August and September are my absolute favourite months, and I'm also stuck on the idea of summer and autumn not wanting to part. Billy especially is having a hard time.

Thank you @akioukun ✨💖 for the 💫 magical au

#harringrove #harringrove seasons au #billy x steve #summer billy x autumn steve #harringrove fic

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housefreak · 2 years

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[ID: a cross stitch of a frog wearing a red mushroom hat, surrounded by small flowers and fireflies, on dark gray-brown linen /end ID]

pattern is amonita froggie by mama witch xstitch on gumroad, stitched on ~48ct linen i dyed myself with yarrow!

#cross stitch #xstitch #bibbit #natural dyeing #dye tag #it was tannin & alum. then yarrow. then a too heavy iron bath but its so swag

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thatmentallystablechick · 2 months

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Seems like I blinked and we’re already halfway through #Funguary - but regardless, today’s fungus is the Witch’s Hat Mushroom! Today is also the last prompt for the mystical mushrooms, and a new weekly theme will start tomorrow…!

Remember how with the Funguary drawings from last year, I sometimes would include a younger version of a fungi in my drawing? I haven’t done that as much this year (mostly because I’ve had a harder time finding reference photos for less matured versions of these shrooms), but it seemed only fitting for this fungus? Why? Because of how they change over time: young Witch’s Hat mushrooms are bright orangey-red, but they turn black when they either A: get bruised (and they apparently bruise really easily!), or B: as they naturally age - and they really do look like witches’ hats when they’re black!

Fun fact: I was able to do a little bit of “recycling” with this particular artwork: I got the inspo for these girls’ outfits from another art project a few years ago that I never actually got around to doing! I only had the doodles in my sketchbook to go off of, so I’m not sure if all the colours are completely accurate to what I originally imagined - but I think it’s probably pretty close. And there you have it: my Witch’s Hat mushroom girl and her young apprentice!

Made with Ohuhu Markers and Shuttle Art pencil crayons

#funguary #fungiart #fungi #fungus #mushrooms #traditional art #art challenge #traditional drawing #art #drawing #traditional artist #artist #ohuhu markers #my art #artists on tumblr #ohuhubrushmarkers #ohuhuart #ohuhumarkers #ohuhualcoholmarkers

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limboni · 5 months

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'Remember, don't summon that which is bigger than a summoning circle...or can't be destroyed with a flame thrower!'

-someone somewhere for sure

So I drawn my friend's oc! I really wanted to and this is the result! Took me around a month, but what can you do!

There are other characters around, but I yet don't know if those of our friends have Tumblr, when I find out I'm gonna ping them too.

But the pink haired witch person is oc of @teetkmost123

The little clown is an oc of @flowerytombx

The voodoo doll is oc of @leikolemon22

P.s. wanted to add alt text, but it was too long, so here it is. Beware of my overdetailed and in the same time not detailed enough description! Is there some other way to do it though?

Alt text/description of the comic:

The comic comprised of a few pictures. The first smaller ones show a few oddities in the witch's stuff. The golden hourglass with red send inside, with a few books on the left (only one is seen with a name "The art of War", and a black-gold snake slithering down, only part of it is seen, and it has two black feathers with golden highlights.

The next picture shows a yellow frog,that looks very much done with the situation, sitting inside s bottled bottle, with a skull of some creature on the side.

The last close up is on a clown, with yellow-orange clothes and looking straight at the audience. The eye is black with outline of yellow.

The next picture is showing the witch's working place. There is witch at the front, looking at the book in their hands, with their back to us. Most of what can be seen is their pink hair. They wear a big purple hat with a red spider lily and black underside filled with white stars. And purple cloth, under black long finger open glows, long black boots (unseen here), black pants, the corset over their belly, and corset like thing over their throat. There is also black little bag on their left leg.

Behind them is a bookshelf, field of already mentioned stuff, as well as a few potions on the down row (red one, green one, sunrise and night sky coloured), and more books under. The snake is more clear looking at the frogs bottle.

A bit on the left of the bookshelf:

On the wall there is variation of pages, seemingly taken out of books, and connected to the wall by knives, skotch, pinches. One is showing the structure of blue mushroom, a heart, a skull (that somewhat similar to the creature's skull seen before), and a picture of a seemingly a cat (looking smuggly at the watcher, with swimmingly no appendages, and a few question marks around - it's the one pierced by a knife).

Over the picture there is a witch's yellowish brown broom.

Under them - a yellow circled mirror, to which a black cat is slowly coming over. The cat can be seen in reflection of the mirror.

The cat is standing on a box with a small as the cat clown from before. They are looking at the cat, up.

On the right of the clown box, there is table with a few plushies like creatures and stuff (a seemingly voodoo doll of a person with black dress, black hair and eyes, and white highlights in the front. A few pins are put in it. In it's head.

Close by there is a cup with scissors, pencils. And a two plush like ghosts, one of blue colour sitting on the table and pink one off the table. Like two special agents in movies. They hold each other from falling of the with purple string of wool, the ball of which you is on the table.

Under the table a box with different coothes is seen. The most prominent one being a red hat with white stars around.

On the front of the picture another table with an orange pumpkin on a blue clothes is seen. With two golden candle holders standing close by, with not lit candles. And a big black couldron with some green glowing liquid.

The only light is a big black lamp that is on the bookshelf. And lightning mostly the bookshelf and the witch with the book.

The next panel shows close up to the witch, which now moved a right arm, to magic the candles to light. There now seen their back, with purple laces over the corset and some bottle with red leguid, on their hip, holden by a red string over them. Their hand has one ring, with a red skull on it. They are holding a purple crystal knife. And have red eyes.

The next close up is on their hands. How the witch is cutting their finger with the knife. It can be noticed that both arms have the same skull rings, on their pinkies.

The next close up is of the lighten up candles.

After which is once again close up of the witch. They are now in full front view. Their hair is seeming going all around them, they are now holding both the red book and the knife in their right hand. Their left hand is outstretched seemingly to draw something with their blood. Their mouth is open as if they are trying to say something. We can also see a necklace of theirs, of purple white skull on a red string. Their eyes are glowing even more red.

The pre-last close up is on the cat looking into the mirror. But in the mirror is some strange grey skinned creature, with black long hair and whitish cloths over their face. They are smiling with full teeth towards the cat. It seems to have been summoned by the witch on accident.

The last picture is splitting between the yellow eye of the cat and a smile over the creature. The creature it seems may have possessed the cat. Hooray? Summoning was successful...not of what was intended.. but shh, it's a secret.

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