#*Shaking you by the shoulders* DO YOU SEE IT DO YOU SEE THE VISION DO YOU LOVE IT AS MUCH AS I DO

[obihoebikenobi]

I wrote the fic.

you love who you love (there ain't no other way) <- read on ao3

Rating: T Word count: 4,631

When Logan woke up, Wade’s apartment was cold. Far colder than usual. 

For the first two months of Logan’s stay, it had been just shy of chilly, but it wasn’t unbearable. Logan had dealt with worse than seventy degrees in many of his past living situations. 

But sixty-one degrees? That was fucking cold.  

Wade left a sticky note on the thermostat, which was crudely written, but from what Logan could make out, the heat was broken and the Landlord hadn’t said when he was planning to fix it. 

Logan shivered in place, throw blanket pulled over his shoulders, flexing his fingers by his sides. 

The cold wouldn’t be a problem if it wasn’t for the fucking adamantium. 

It was heavy, infused into his bones and weighing him down. He could deal with that, with the extra weight; if anything, the weight made him stronger, forcing his muscles to carry more weight on a daily basis. 

But there were pitfalls, there always were. 

Since Logan could remember, cold days were always the worst. The adamantium made his joints stiff and immobile, made his bones ache, made his head heavy with pressure. It culminated in his healing factor working overtime, trying to compensate for the pain in his bones and joints. Then his muscles would hurt, and the spaces between his fingers would twinge with little spikes of pain when he bent his fingers. His thoughts would develop into a fog, sometimes his vision would tilt and spin. 

Logan’s healing factor could only do so much, could only support so many processes and discomforts and injuries all at once. 

The culmination was a shitty fucking day, and it hurt like a bitch.

And fuck, it had already started, a slight ache in his fingers when he bent them, the gentle throb of his lower back when he reached down to pull on a pair of sweatpants he left on the floor. 

He’d wandered out to the kitchen in his briefs in search of the thermostat to turn up the heat, which wasn’t fucking working, so he settled on bundling himself up instead, hoping to increase his body temperature and keep the ache away.

Stiffly shuffling back to the bedroom, Logan pulled on a pair of sweats and threw on a few layers of shirts. He doubled up on socks for good measure and tugged a blanket over his shoulders hoping it would trap in a bit of extra heat. 

He was on his way back to the kitchen when Wade stumbled inside, Mary Puppins in his arms, and another sticky note pressed against his chest. 

Logan felt a wave of fondness roll through his chest.

Wade wore a big sweatshirt and a pair of ratty jeans. It was his default outfit, but Wade wore it so well. Or maybe Logan just liked him a fucking lot. 

“Bad news, baby girl,” Wade chimed, huffing out an oof as he tripped into the wall pulling off his boot, “Stopped by to see Landlord Lucifer and–”

Logan snorted, crossing his arms over his chest, shivering as Wade shut the door and a plume of cold air washed across the bare skin of his neck. 

“Lucifer? He can’t be that fucking bad.”

Wade threw his shoes toward their storage bucket, missing by a mile, then shrugging and pressing a kiss to Logan’s forehead before shuffling toward the kitchen, “He’s not, that’s just his name apparently. The goddamn joke wrote itself.”

“Convenient,” Logan gritted out, shuffling behind Wade and heading toward the kitchen, if anything, hoping Wade would follow his typical afternoon practice of making a cup of tea; Logan was hoping to request his own cup this time. Even if tasted like shit, at least it would be fucking warm. 

“Anyway, Lucifer says he can’t fix the heat until Friday. Apparently he’s upstate visiting family and the heat guy won’t do the work until he pays in person. What a bitch, right?”

Fuck. One day of cold was fine, but three sounded unbearable. 

“The landlord or the heat guy?” Logan asked, forcing his shaking arms to still. 

“Either. Both. Every heat guy and landlord in the whole fucking world. They’re all pieces of shit.” 

Logan watched Wade scarf down a few pieces of taffy from their candy bowl (which had the shittiest collection of candy Logan had ever seen, including black licorice and sixlets) before heading to his electric kettle and filling the pot to the brim. 

Thank fucking god. 

“Can you make me a cup, bub?” Logan asked, voice barely a grumble. 

“I’m sorry?” Wade’s head snapped up from where he was messing with the settings on the kettle, “The man who claims that tea is a bunch of lettuce flavored water wants a cup?”

Logan narrowed his eyes, growling, but Wade just smiled right back at him, cocking his head questioningly.

“Damn the cold that bad, Peanut?” 

And fuck, it really fucking was that bad. His joints were starting to stiffen up, and frankly, the idea of sitting down sounded like hell because it was going to be painful to get back up once he was down. 

His usual first instinct was to lie, to say it had nothing to do with the cold. And Logan sure as shit would have lied to anyone else, but Wade wasn’t really anyone else. Not anymore. 

Wade liked to tease him, like to bicker and joke, but Wade also gave a fuck. 

Wade cared, so obviously that it hurt Logan’s head to think too hard about it. Most people only cared enough about his well-being to make sure he could still use the fucking claws. 

No one else would give a fuck if he was cold and achey. But Wade would. 

“It is for me,” Logan admitted, just as a shudder ran down his back. He held back a hiss, feeling a jolt of pain run down one of his hips.  

Wade flicked the kettle on and turned again, staring right at Logan with those wide eyes, a hint of concern buried inside of them. 

“I didn’t know that,” Wade said through a breath, then stepped right into Logan’s space, long arms curling around him, fingers latching together over the small of Logan’s back, “Let’s expand on that, Wolvie. Dive into those deep waters of emotional intimacy.”

Logan snorted into Wade’s neck, basking in the warmth of Wade’s skin against the freezing tip of his nose. 

“Adamantium isn’t a fan of the cold,” he muttered after a few moments of comfortable silence. Wade stroked a few fingers down Logan’s back, rubbed the thumb over his other hand over Logan’s shoulder blade in soothing circles, “Makes me feel like shit. Just achy, and fucking cold. And stiff.”

Wade shuffled in his arms, pulling back and notching a finger under Logan’s chin, “So you’re like me? You have bad days.” 

Honestly, Logan hadn’t thought about it like that. 

Wade had shitty ass days. It wasn’t all the time–though Wade had once mentioned he always felt kind of like shit–but some days were worse than others. Wade described it as a bad pain day once, saying he didn’t want to leave bed, wasn’t hungry, couldn’t fucking stand the thought of moving more than one inch away from his divot in the bed. Logan had happily brought a straw right up to Wade’s mouth while scrolling on Wade’s phone with his other hand just so the man didn’t have to move. 

And fuck, the cold kind of made Logan feel like that, like he he didn’t want to move or exist or function. 

“I guess.” 

Wade brushed his thumb over Logan’s beard, drawing over his jawline and pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“Bodies are fucking assholes aren’t they?” Wade said grinning softly, in just that way that usually made Logan want to drag him over to the couch and kiss him fucking senseless. Too bad that wasn’t an option. 

“Yeah bodies are fucking assholes,” Logan muttered as Wade took his hand, steering him toward the couch. 

“So you’ll let me take care of your asshole-of-a-body instead of your literal asshole today? I could do both if you want–”

“Wade, jesus christ.” Logan cut him off just as Wade deposited him onto the couch.

Logan closed his eyes, feeling his joints creaking as he tried to rearrange his limbs. His legs felt like heavy posts, and he hissed on his first attempt trying to swing one of them up onto the coffee table. 

“Fuck.”  

On the second attempt, he lifted upward, bending his knee at the joint, and there was a spike of white-hot pain searing down his leg, radiating from his thigh to his calf. 

God fucking damnit it hurt. 

Logan ground his eyes shut, grit his teeth, tried to think about anything else while the waves of agony rolled away, replaced with a dull, intrusive ache. 

“Fuck, Peanut. That looks like it hurts like a fucking bitch.” 

A hand curled over his shoulder, an anchor, holding him in place. 

Logan didn’t open his eyes, just breathed through his teeth, warmth passing over his cheeks as the last of the adrenaline rolled out of his veins. 

“It does.” Logan answered through a swallow. 

There was a beat of silence, then footsteps, a whispered be right back. 

Minutes passed and Logan could hear Wade shuffling around somewhere across the apartment. There was a click of a door opening, a soft curse, a slam of the same door shutting again. 

“Alright hear me out, sweetheart. This thing is like magic, in the colloquial sense. Pure sorcery.”

Logan didn’t open his eyes.

“What is it?” 

“Trust me?”

Of course Logan trusted him. Of fucking course he trusted Wade. 

“Yeah.”

Logan didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the drape of another blanket over his shoulders, because a blanket was hardly sorcery. Hell, Logan had one wrapped around his shoulders for the past twenty minutes and it didn’t do shit about the cold. 

“A blanket?”

“A special blanket. You should be honored I’m letting you have a turn with it because I don’t even let Al use it. I keep it on the very top shelf of the closet so her little elderly arms can’t get to it.” 

Logan shook his head, moved his aching arms to pull the blanket a little tighter around his shoulders, “What’s special about it?”

“You’ll find out. Eventually.” Wade cackled, and with a woosh of air, he was gone, probably headed back into the kitchen for his tea. Logan hoped he remembered to make a second mug. 

In the meantime, Logan sat completely still, not wanting to aggravate his joints anymore than he already had. He drifted for a moment, evacuating every thought from his brain to try and find a moment of peace, but he was distracted by something.

Something warm. 

It built up slowly, following the lines of the blanket around his shoulders. It felt like fucking heaven. Sorcery even. It didn’t relieve the ache–not yet–but it brought sensation back into the tips of his freezing fingers, eased the tension out of his shoulders just enough to let his body relax into the soft cushions of the old sofa.

“Heated blanket,” Wade’s voice startled Logan, making him flinch, “It’s the only thing that got me through those first weeks of my cancer diagnosis. Sorcery, I say. Hella good shit.” 

Logan hummed, peaking his eyes open as Wade pressed a mug of tea into his hands. Hands that weren’t shaking anymore, hands that started to feel easier to bend around the joints. 

Wade smiled, something soft and a touch somber, maybe guilty. What did Wade have to feel guilty about? 

“S’nice. Warm.” Logan brought the mug to his lips, sipping at the tea. It was surprisingly pleasant, an herbal flavor with a hint of something fruity. Mostly, the warm liquid felt good rolling down his throat and into his stomach, warming him from the inside out. 

“Leaf water up to snuff?” Wade asked, curling closer, shoving himself into Logan’s side as close as he could manage without too much jostling, “If it’s not, there’s still a shitload of dead leaves in the park that I can use instead. Get more of that earthy flavor I know you crave.”

“It’s good, bub,” Logan offered, “Warm.”

“Blanket and leaf water, both warm. Checkmate. We were going for warm. Problem solving achieved.”

Logan chuckled, leaned his head into Wade’s shoulder, listened to the thrum of Wade’s voice as he talked himself into turning on the latest season of Love is Blind instead of The Bachelorette. 

 _

The heated blanket was good. Great. Fucking warm enough to take the edge of the edge off. 

But the ache was still there, persistent and throbbing. Worsening, despite it all. 

It made Logan’s head hurt, made his thoughts turn to an oatmeal-like sludge. 

He extracted himself from the couch–with Wade’s help, of course–three episodes into Love is Blind,searching out the bathroom to take a piss. 

It hurt to pick his feet up off the ground, legs uncooperative and stiff. It hurt to twist the door handle open and it hurt to bend and lift up the toilet seat. 

He stifled a groan with each movement, frustration building in his chest. 

The bathroom was cold as shit, made of tile and with an old window that didn’t seal no matter how hard you shut. Logan shivered as he relieved himself, considering finding a motel with heat just to spare himself a night of agony. But that would require him to leave the apartment and shuffle through the snow, which realistically would only make things worse. 

So cold fucking apartment it was. 

He finished his piss, shakily reaching for the lid and stumbling to the sink. There was a knock on the door while Logan leaned against the wall and waited for the water to heat up so he could wash his hands. 

“Loges?” 

Wade didn’t open the door, but Logan could feel him hovering.

“Come in.”

Wade wrenched the door open, a hint of concern on his face.

“Do you realize you’ve been in here for like thirty minutes? I thought you shat yourself to death.”

Logan felt his chest constrict a bit. It hadn’t been that long, had it? He pulled his head off of the wall where he’d leaned into it, turning to face himself in the mirror. A red spot was painted over the side of his pale forehead. Shit.  

He didn’t look good. 

He didn’t really feel good either. 

His thoughts were disjointed, vision a bit blurry. He was cold. Tired. 

“Sorry,” Logan stammered out, not sure what to say underneath Wade’s gaze. So he shivered–unintentionally, albeit–but it was apparently enough to send Wade’s vague concern spiraling into a thunder clap of genuine worry. 

“Don’t–hey,” Wade was cornering him into another hug, pulling Logan’s body close to his chest, “You don’t need to be sorry.”

Logan let himself droop in Wade’s hold, basking in the immediate warmth. It felt safe, it felt like home.

“How about a bath? I’ll make it hot as fuck, boil you like a school cafeteria chicken breast.”

Logan didn’t understand what the fuck than meant but the idea of a bath sounded good. It sounded warm and relieving and like it would be the best chance at melting away the persistent ache that was becoming more acute with each passing moment. 

He nodded into Wade’s neck.

“Alright. Okay. Good. Let’s–let’s get you sitting down.”

Logan wasn’t in the state of mind to protest, so he let Wade lower him onto the toilet seat, sucking in a harsh breath through his teeth when one of his knees popped, another shooting spike of pain spreading through him like a firework.

He closed his eyes while Wade set things up, listening to the sound of running water, waiting patiently as the first bit of hot steam drifted into the air. 

Hands pressed over his knees at some point. 

“Let’s get these off, baby.” 

Baby. Logan liked baby. Not that he’d told Wade that. 

“Logan?” 

Logan hummed, opening his eyes, surveying Wade’s face through blurred vision. 

“You with me?” 

Logan cleared his throat, “Yeah. Clothes?”

Wade nodded and helped Logan to his feet. 

Logan clung to the edge of the sink as deft hands worked his sweats and briefs down his legs, then moved to his chest, stripping him of his layers one by one until he was a shivering mess in just his socks. 

It was a compromising position, one Logan hadn’t imagined himself in for years. No one was meant to see him like that, vulnerable and open, barely able to hold himself up. But then there was Wade, crawling into Logan’s chest cavity and reaching for his heart. Goddamn persistent. 

And Logan’s guard was down. It was so fucking down that he didn’t care if Wade saw him like this, shivering and weak, everything the Wolverine wasn’t. 

“Left foot, pretty please.” 

Lifting his uncooperative ankle as much as he could manage, Logan obeyed, following suit with his right foot. 

“Bathtime, baby. Let me help you in.”

It was uncomfortable to step over the edge, even more so to lower himself into the water, but Wade held him with strong arms and didn’t let him slip. 

The water was hot, borderline scalding against Logan’s skin, but the effects were immediate. 

Tension leaked from his skin, the previously sharp ache in his bones dissolving into something akin to a muted, manageable pain. The hot steam rolling off the bath eased Logan’s headache, cleared his thoughts. 

“That helping, sweetheart?” 

Wade’s fingertips moved a damp piece of hair off of Logan’s forehead. He cracked his eyes open, finding Wade with a soaked t-shirt and something like fondness written all over his face. 

Logan nodded, reaching to take Wade’s fingers in his hand. 

“Doesn’t hurt as much.”

Wade eyed him curiously, like there was a question on his tongue but he was afraid to say it. He shook his head, pointed toward the caddy of soap on the wall of the shower instead, “Mind if I wash you? Promise I’ll only make it a little weird.” 

Logan chuckled softly, shaking his head, “We’re dating Wade, it’s not not weird even if you try to make it that way.”

“You underestimate my natural tendencies,” Wade muttered, rubbing a generous helping of body wash into Logan’s loofah and reaching into the water for his foot. 

It wasn’t weird, not even a little. Wade had washed him twice before, both times in the middle of the night when sweat and blood stuck to Logan’s skin after a nightmare. Wade was good at it, gentle with his hands, always chattering on about something but taking his time with every part of Logan’s skin. 

He worked up both of Logan’s legs, washed over his chest and stomach, shoulders and back, up to his neck. Logan nodded his approval when Wade looked up at him before dipping between his legs, washing Logan’s most intimate places with delicate, intimate touches. 

Wade was even better at washing hair, Logan found.

Logan let Wade pour water over his hair, basked in the soothing rotations of fingers digging into the pressure points of his scalp.

“You want to talk about it? The whole cold thing?” Wade asked as he rinsed the last of the shampoo out of Logan’s hair, then dropped his fingertips to rub over Logan’s knee instead. 

The question sat in the air for a moment, beckoning for an answer. 

“The cold it–” Logan paused, swallowing, “It doesn’t agree with the adamantium. And that fucks with my healing factor. Makes me sick, in a way.”

The fingers pressing over Logan’s knee never stopped their circular pattern of movement, Wade didn’t look away, didn’t make a sound.

“Have you ever had someone to take care of you?” 

Logan considered the question, searching for a memory that wasn’t there. 

Sure, he had relationships, boyfriends and girlfriends, close friendships, everything in between. But those relationships hadn’t been honest ones, plagued with lies and deception, often with motives other than love and happiness. Logan wasn’t the victim in all of them, no–he was closed off and bitter, unwilling to be vulnerable. 

Lack of vulnerability attracted lack of empathy. Shitty people attracted shitty people. 

“I never let anyone,” Logan admitted slowly, eyes trained on the slow drip of water from the faucet. 

Wade fingers fell from his knee, and Logan felt the twist of anxiety in his chest. 

“This is going to sound cheesy as fuck but it has to be said. The audience needs to hear it,” Wade said quietly as he took Logan’s cheeks in his hands, “I’m here for your best days, and your worst, shittiest, most disgusting days. Like, even when you have explosive diarrhea. Or when you stab me in the dick and won’t apologize. Or when you destroy what’s left of my incredibly fragile ego. Sticks and stones they say.”

Logan’s chest fluttered with something like relief. 

“Point is, you’re gonna let me take care of you. I’m not asking, I’m demanding. You do it for me all the fucking time even when you shouldn’t have to because I’m being a little bitch–”

“Wade,” Logan said, covering Wade’s hands with his own, “Shut the fuck up for one damn second. I…I’m here for you too. Don’t want you to be hurting. Ever.” 

Wade smiled, and it was genuine. Logan loved when he smiled like that, especially with the pink tint spread over his cheeks. 

“Fuck us, Peanut. That was sappy as shit. Quick, stab me in the neck to ruin it before it gets worse.” 

Logan didn’t stab him, instead, kissed him on the fucking lips, like he did every day even when they weren’t pledging their undying devotion to eachother in a too-small bathroom. 

They sat in relative silence for some time longer; at least, Logan sat in relative silence. 

The warmth of the bath was needed, but it brought on a fleeting relief. The ache in Logan’s bones hardly had enough time to completely dissipate, and was back as soon as the water cooled down to lukewarm.

Wade rambled on about some Reddit thread for a while, complained about some gossip page’s integrity, listed out his top choices for who he’d want to host the Oscars in the next ten years. 

Logan was happy to half-listen, let Wade’s voice distract him from the throb settling into the spaces between his knuckles. He didn’t complain even when the water turned cold, only tapped at Wade’s knee cap when he started to shiver and the brain fog was on its way back, the vague sensation of dizziness returning as soon as it had gone. 

“You want to go to the bedroom, sweetheart?” Wade asked as Logan held his hand with a deathgrip, hissing under his breath as he stepped out of the tub. 

The pain was back, like it never left to begin with. Hurtshurtshurts. 

“Please.”

Wade took control, zero hesitation as he wrapped a towel around Logan’s shoulders, leading him with gentle hands out of the bathroom and down the hall. And Logan let him, eyes half-closed, limbs loose and mind drifting. 

The bedroom was already warmer than the rest of the house, Wade’s small space heater bumping the temperature up a degree or two. Still, Logan shivered as Wade helped him sit on the bed. 

“S’cold,” Logan reminded him when the small comfort of the towel was taken away and a shiver coiled down his spine. Wade pressed it against his skin, rubbing away the droplets of water, working his way down Logan’s body. 

“Just gonna finish drying you off sweetheart, then clothes.”

Wade dried his hair best he could with the towel, and Logan sat still, let Wade take care of it, let himself be handled and moved and touched.  

Hands pulled a pair of sweats over his legs, then a sweatshirt over his head, then warm socks over his feet. It hurt when Wade moved him, when his bones scraped against each other and his joints protested, but Wade was all gentleness and skilled fingers. 

Somehow Logan made it underneath the covers and propped up against a stack of pillows, Wade’s fingertips pressing over his cheek, rubbing over his beard with a promise he’d be right back. 

And Wade was back before Logan could process he’d gone to begin with.

“Had to get the blanket of sorcery. Wouldn’t want Al to see it out and get any ideas.”

It hadn’t been unplugged from the outlet in the living room for long enough to lose its warmth and it felt like fucking heaven, yet again. 

Logan groaned in relief, letting Wade tuck it around him. 

“Yeah I know, good shit indeed,” Wade said, and Logan blinked his eyes open, hardly realizing he’d closed them again to begin with, “You should probably eat. Brought you some soup, courtesy of my very close friend Campbell. What a guy.”

Logan blinked a few more times, trying to wake himself up, trying to get past the wall of low-energy his healing factor put up to keep him still.

“Soup?” He asked, looking at the mug that Wade extended out to him.

“Tomato soup. Not burned,” Wade clarified, stirring the spoon through it, “Want me to feed you, baby cakes?” 

“Fuck no,” Logan growled and took the soup, eating it slowly with stiff, uncoordinated fingers.

Wade kept talking, back on his Oscar host picks, then moving onto something about Hank and the X-men and drugs that worked with healing factors or some shit, “You want like an imperial fuckload of morphine? I know a guy. Well, knew a guy, but I’m sure the replacement guy will love me just as much.”

And no, Logan didn’t fucking need a fuckload of morphine to get him through a bad day. Because that’s all it was, a bad fucking day because of his shitty fucking body. He wasn’t dying, he wasn’t in so much pain he couldn’t handle it, he wasn’t needed to save the world. 

It was a bad day, but Wade was there to make it better. 

Wade with his endless stream of modern pop culture conversation points that Logan didn’t understand but loved to fucking death anyway. Wade with his gentle touch and little radiant smiles. 

Wade with a heart of fucking gold and enough love to make Logan’s chest hurt because fuck Logan loved motherfucking Wade Wilson back so fucking hard. 

“Wade, c’mere,” Logan mumbled, empty mug placed on the side table, warmth starting to work its way through his blood.

Wade did just as much, wrapping himself over Logan’s chest, breathing right into his neck, fingertips tracing over the tiny sliver of exposed skin between the waistband of Logan’s pants and the hem of his sweatshirt. 

“Logan?” Wade asked, voice muffled in Logan’s skin.

“Yeah, bub?” 

“You feeling any better?” Wade pulled his head out of Logan’s neck, looked him right in the eye. 

“Yeah, bub. Warming up a bit, joints are loosening up.” 

Wade looked satisfied with the answer, but slid off of Logan’s chest.

“Good. I’m going to spoon you now and try not to get bricked up. No promises, but just know, I am striving for purity with the expectation of flawed horniness. Blame my cock and not me; we are separate entities.”

And it was such a Wade thing to say, crude and completely unnecessary but somehow Logan still smiled to himself about it, chest constricting with layered, unadulterated fondness. 

“Love you, Wade,” he whispered.

“Fuck! That shit coming from you hits harder than a shitload of cocaine on a Tuesday. Love you fucking too, Peanut.”

There have been few people to earn the trust of Logan over two-hundred years, but when Logan's comfortable with someone, he lets his guard down. Like, all the way fucking down.

The adamantium makes Logan cold and stiff in the winter, and usually he'd just grit his teeth and take it, but then there's Wade.

Wade, running Logan a hot bath, setting up some music, lighting a candle, sitting on a stool and keeping him company.

Wade, towelling Logan off while his eyes droop shut and the chilly air reminds him of the ache in his bones.

Wade, steering him back to the bedroom, sitting Logan on the bed, allowing him to be loose-limbed and half-asleep.

Logan lets him pull a pair of baggy sweatpants up his legs, a cozy sweatshirt over his head. Wade towels of his hair, and presses a kiss to Logan's forehead. He pulls back the covers and helps Logan slip underneath them when his stiff body resists. For a second Wade leaves Logan's side, but he returns with a microwaved mug of soup and a heated blanket.

Wade lets him eat, crawling in the bed, ready to hold Logan close as soon as the soup is gone.

And Logan fucking lets him. No--Logan fucking wants this. It isn't something he allows, it's something he desires. Only from Wade.

He wants gentle hands, and stupid fucking jokes about pop culture that he doesn't understand, and the soft comfort of Wade's scent on the sheets.

Logan shamelessly wants to be held in Wade's arms, pulled close and held even closer.

[ubeb0nes]

Getting jealous (AGAIN) as Sevika's girlfriend...

you just can't catch a break, huh? your fault for falling in love with this absolute lady-killer

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a/n: ever since i remembered i have free will and can post all my sevika goblin thoughts i have been cooking entire posts up in like under an hour, somebody please help me LMAO

i had too many ideas for the jealous!reader, so here's another. i picture this as being my pit fighter!reader characterization, so do with that what you will :33

it isn't that you hate absolutely anybody looking at Sevika at all

like, you get it. and a part of you loves that everyone else can see just as clearly as you how absolutely captivating she is.

BUT IT GETS TO A POINT-

After the incident with the girl at the bar, Sevika does her best to make sure that you don't feel neglected in public. She slips, of course she does, but she does try like hell

It typically goes that anybody who approaches her, flat out doesn't acknowledge you. it's a by-product of how she's so non-PDA that it slips the mind of these thirsty women that she's even in a relationship

You, being a practical and results-driven individual, remedy this by being a little bolder in public every now and then

Nowadays, Sevika doesn't usually object. She understands why you're doing it now, and she's getting tired of the would-be homewreckers coming onto her too lol

You'll cup her cheek, give her a firm but quick kiss whenever you bring a drink over to her while she's in a game of cards. Come up beside her at the bar and rest your hand on her hip for a while (she fucking loves this one, she won't tell you though)

From then on, people start to get the message. If anybody's heartbroken over it, they become less inclined to showing it

So, you almost want to believe you're imagining things when you clock someone from across the bar who seems to keep giving you the stink eye

you're not dumb

you can see the way she's gesturing between you and Sevika to her friends, shaking her head in disgust. now that's a new one...

Sevika has her human arm over your shoulder while this is happening, the other holding onto her hand of cards. She looks over at you when you pluck the cigarillo out from her fingers and take a drag of your own in distress. She's deeply amused by this

"Okay, baby?" "Mhm. Peachy." You were not peachy. The hell did you do to deserve that look?

For a second Sevika thinks you're mad at her, frowning and angling her body towards you (she notices Ran trying to sneak a look at her cards as she does, and bucks playfully at them). Her eyes flick up to follow your line of vision, and then she understands

She chuckles under her breath.

"You could take her in a fight, princess."

oh, and don't you know it. You shake away the thought though, not wanting to escalate the situation in your head in the case that it's actually not at all what you think it is, and then you look stupid

You ask Sevika if she wants another whiskey and she declines, so you get up to just get yours. You're minding your business by the bar, trying to not grace that table with any more glances when that bites you in the ass as a shoulder checks yours

of course, it's the girl. I guess it wasn't in your head

You make eye contact with her when she looks over her shoulder at you and scoffs, shaking her head. You don't look away even as the bartender slides your drink into your hand

now, you have some options here. most of them include violence to some degree. you're contemplating them all as you're walking back to Sevika, eyes straight ahead

then you catch a few choice words from her table; something, something, "-can she fight..." you don't hear the rest, but does it really matter?

you stop in your tracks. you glance up at your girlfriend who didn't see what happened earlier but is watching you now, brow raised and mouthing what's wrong?

at this point, i don't think this even counts as jealousy, you're just defending your woman's honor

you give her a shake of your head that says don't worry (and now she's definitely worrying), and turn on your heel and make a beeline for the bitch's table

Sevika is about to get up to back you up- for whatever the situation may be- when she sees your posture as you stand over the girl from earlier.

Ran stops her though, grinning from ear to ear. "Let your girl have this, Sev. I wanna see her beat ass." Sevika scoffs, but tentatively sits back down. She trusts your judgement. Whatever your call is-

oh, you're smashing your glass over the girl's head. Ran gives a loud whoop

"You wanna take her from me? Go ahead, try," you'd said while Ran was talking Sevika down. The smile on your face was near-manic. "See what she does when you put your hands on me."

It's not like this woman was exactly tiny or helpless-looking; most in Zaun strived to be neither. But Sevika hadn't been lying when she said you could take her.

It was not a memo she'd received, though.

You couldn't recall what exactly she'd said, but you do know your mind reached an immediate state of singularity when she said she'd kill you before Sevika could do anything about it.

BET

"Goddammit-" Sevika barks out your name as she shoots up from her chair. Ran is doubled over with laughter

She's deceptively fast for her height, and thank fucking god for it. Her human arm wraps around your waist like a vise, pulling you back with ease

She would've been cutting up right with Ran in any other circumstance, given the way you were stancing on the now-dazed woman, fists clenched and shoulders shrugged up like an angry big cat

"Down, girl," she mutters to you. Her lips quirk up at the way you shift your jaw around, obviously still pissed off and ready to scrap

"I was defending your honor." "Mhm. What would I do without you, huh?"

Sevika's in front of you when the woman scrambles up out of her seat to retaliate. Sevika towers over the both of you, and you're nearly completely hidden behind her now as she glares at the woman

"You don't wanna fight her, much less me. Go ahead and clear off."

Maybe jealousy isn't as accurate of a term for you as territorial. You've got nothing to be jealous of, not with how fiercely devoted Sevika is at every turn

[ellecdc]

Hello! I had a request for reader (if you wish for poly!marauders) or regulus (again, jegulus or poly!jegulus with reader/regulus getting glasses... have fun with it I'll love it either way 😅🥰) where they get glasses and how their partner(s) would react. Maybe their in denial about their weakening vision and when they get glasses, they're so unused to wearing glasses and looking at themselves that they need some love and affection. Some comedy and fluff would be fun, it could be one part or two, as you wish, I'd just love to see your take on it.. again no pressure! Let your creative juices flow or keep them stored if you're not interested 😅😅

thanks for your request, lovie! <3

Regulus Black x fem!reader who isn't used to her new glasses [600 words]

CW: slight insecurity around wearing glasses, fluff

Regulus doesn’t move as you join him by the door of your flat, smiling up at him as you wait for him to ask if you are ready.

“You ready to go, amour?” He asks, fighting against the smile threatening to take over his face at the way your eyes crinkle in delight at this practiced ritual the two of you shared.

“Yup!” You agree eagerly, reaching towards the door only for Regulus to grab your arm before you could reach it.

“Yeah?” He tries again. “You’re not forgetting anything?”

He watched your brows furrow as you shot him a bemused look. “No?”

“No?”

“I don’t think so…” You continue; second guessing yourself at Regulus’ obvious implication that you were, indeed, missing something. 

“Not even,” Regulus drawls, stretching the vowels out until you had no choice but to roll your eyes at him, “a pair of glasses?”

Your shoulders fell as you let out a groan and Regulus couldn’t help but laugh then. “You’re being mean.” You accuse him.

“Mean?” He asks, hand to his heart in faux offence. “By making sure my darling girl can see? How’s that mean?”

“It doesn’t match.”

“Your outfit?” Regulus clarifies. “Amour, your glasses go with everything; you picked out ones that would, remember?” 

You only respond by worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“What’s your worry, hm?” He asks finally; spreading his legs out so that he was closer to your height and settling his hands on your hips. You couldn’t bring yourself to look directly at him but you didn’t pull away, so Regulus allowed it. 

“I think they look…silly.”

“They don’t look silly.” He assures you.

“You have to say that.” You argue, finally looking at him to give him a rather disgruntled look. 

“I don’t have to say anything.” He counters, giving you a small shake when you try to look away from him again. “Sweetheart, you look adorable in your glasses; you spent a lot of time picking out the perfect ones!”

“I just don’t think they suit me.” You continue, though Regulus could tell just from the tension in your body that the fight was quickly leaving you. 

“You’re just not used to them, amour. The only way to fix that is to wear them more.”

You let out a rather petulant groan as you ripped yourself out of his arms and stalked back down the hall. Regulus forgave you for the fit, though, knowing it was mostly for show when you came back down the hall a few moments later with your new glasses sitting on the bridge of your nose.

“There you are,” Regulus says as though he were the one who could see you better now that you finally had them on, “isn’t that better?”

“My eyesight isn’t that bad.” You argue, though you accept Regulus’ kiss and even offer him two more of your own before you pull away. 

“Is that so?” He replies noncommittally, gesturing towards the door now that he was willing to allow you to leave the flat. “Well, I’m just glad I won’t have to sit through dinner with you squinting at me from across the table.”

You let out a horrified gasp as you turn to look at him. “I do not squint at you!”

“You do too!” He counters quickly; one hand on the small of your back as he holds the door open for you with the other. “One time my brother asked why my girlfriend is glaring at me all the time. I’ll be very glad to clear that up the next time we see him.”

[moonchild701]

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Deck the Halls

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[NSFW] ‼ 18+ >MDNI<

Summary: You have a lot of fun decorating for Christmas

Pairing: Dabi/Fem Reader

Content Warning: Smut, Christmas Sex, Begging, Dacryphilia, Edging, Overstimulation, Creampie, Multiple Orgasms, Dom/Sub Undertones, Touya's a bit mean but we love it lol

Word Count: 1.1k

Disclaimer: Character belongs to Kohei Horikoshi

A/N: This is the 3rd part of 12 fics for a 12 Days of Christmas event. Enjoy and Happy Holidays!

My Masterlist

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"Don't drop the ornament, Dolly~" Touya taunts with a hot whisper in your ear, his front pressed up against your back. Two fingers curl inside your cunt sharply and trembles wrack through your body, his other arm wrapped around your torso and cupping your breast beneath your shirt, squeezing and kneading it while holding you in place.

"I'm trying!" You whine, grinding your hips down to chase more pleasure, only to whimper pathetically when you're denied it. In your distraction, the little plastic snowflake-shaped ornament in your grasp slips, clattering against the floor when long fingers suddenly press against your sweet spot.

He tuts and sighs, "You dropped it, sweetheart.", stilling his movements but keeping his fingers stuffed inside you.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to~" You cry, sweat sliding down your forehead and cunt clenching around the digits. "Please, please, I'm good, I've been good."

"Mm, I don't know about that. You've only managed six ornaments on the tree. You have twenty total, though I suppose nineteen now. Do you really think that's good?" He heckles, tracing shapes into your sweat-damp skin with blunt nails.

"Mmn, 'm sorry, 'm sorry, please, I wanna be good for you." You simper, legs trembling as you reach a shaky hand out to take another ornament.

"Hmm, we'll see." He hums, tone all mocking amusement as his thumb rubs firm circles into your clit, without moving his other fingers.

You whine and shake and moan, but you try your best.

It takes another half hour before you're finished hanging the ornaments, all while trying to concentrate, but not as well as you'd like.

The second ornament to slip and fall is a pretty little angel, when he scissors his fingers within you, stretching you out

The third is an adorable reindeer, falling when he abruptly curls his fingers right up against your sweet spot again, while sucking a mark into the junction between your neck and shoulder.

The fourth, you no longer care what it is, drops and bounces away when he gives a hard pinch to your nipple while simultaneously playing with your sensitive clit.

And each time, you apologize tearfully, and each time he tuts and mocks you, licking up your salty tears.

All that time, for almost an hour, he never lets you cum once. Every time he noticed you were close, he'd stop his movements or pull out, and every time, you'd cry and beg so prettily for him.

You manage to put the last ornament on the tree with trembling limbs, sighing shakily as you look at it through tear blurred vision.

He's been edging you, playing with you, for so long that you feel like you're going to shatter if you don't get to cum soon, if he doesn't fuck you soon.

He coos at your glassy eyes peering back at him, chuckling when your lips wobble. "Please?" Your voice is broken and so very sweet as you plea with him for anything, for everything, and he buries his face into your neck, sighing against you there. "Alright baby, you tried your best, I know." He presses a kiss to your flushed skin as he slips his fingers out of you, fully removing his hand from your pants, and you can't help the small whine that escapes you at the prominent emptiness.

Turning you to face him, he captures your lips in a slow languid kiss that makes your legs jelly and your pussy throb.

Your fingers tangle in his snowy hair, tugging and pulling him as close as possible, trying to melt into him, and he allows it, warm hands gripping your hips, keeping you close.

He trails kisses down your throat as he guides you down to the floor, onto the tree rug beneath the Christmas tree, laying you out like the gift you are.

And like a gift, he tears off whatever hides you from view, opening you up and admiring what he was blessed with.

He slides in slowly, seeming to want to still tease you even now, and all you could do is take whatever he decides to give. Because no matter your sweet pleas of more, harder, faster, he'd just swallow your words with a deep kiss, murmuring against your lips, "You shouldn't have dropped them, hm Dolly?"

He fucks you slow and deep under the colourful Christmas tree, trailing kisses wherever his hot mouth can reach, admiring the pretty colours of the Christmas lights dancing across your face and shining in your glossy eyes.

You cum with a sob, your sensitive walls pulsing around him, dragging him over the edge with you and he paints your insides white with a deep groan.

Chest shuddering as you try to catch your breath, you gaze up at him dazedly, before dragging him down into a flithy kiss; licking into his mouth when he allows it.

His cock barely begins to soften from his orgasm when you feel him twitch to full hardness again, grinding into you.

Gasping at the overstimulation to your sensitive cunt, you drag your nails down his back. "Touya wait—" your words are cut off with a choked moan when he pulls back, leaving just the head inside, before shoving back in with a hard thrust.

"Aww, you thought we were done baby?" He coos, licking up the tear trickling down your cheek. You look up at him with glazed eyes, lips parted on a silent moan and shaking as he rolls his hips, grinding against your sweet spot.

"You dropped four ornaments, silly girl." He murmurs, brows furrowed in fake disappointment, his hand cupping your cheek, thumb brushing your cheekbone, wiping away a stray tear. "So you need to let me see your pretty pussy cry for me four times, yeah?" His grin is sharp as he punctuates his words with a thrust, chuckling lowly at the way your expression crumbles into bliss.

The overstimulation hurts deliciously, the pain and pleasure melting into one as he picks up his pace, fucking into you hard and fast just like you begged earlier.

In the dancing, colourful lights, he looks like art. His hair and staples shine in different colours, his eyes glow, with their intensity and his smile is feral and mean and beautiful.

By the time he's done with you, your vision is just a blur of colours, with the most prominent one being the burning blue of his eyes.

Your apartment is nicely adorned with holiday decor of all kinds and colours, the tree being the last to be decorated, and you drift off to sleep right there; half under the faux tree with a dopey, fucked out smile, naked and debauched covered in sweat, slick and sticky cum.

You did hope for a white Christmas after all.

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[devildom-enthusiast]

Working During The Holidays | Lucifer x Reader

1.1k words | GN! Reader | CW: None

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Christmas time was never an easy time for Lucifer. It’s when most students in RAD get into trouble. Fist fights, pranks, and just more general chaos that would all end up either as students in his office or as paperwork on his desk. He would take more work from Diavolo during these times, knowing the Prince would want to join the festivity. Lucifer wouldn’t be able to stand the look on his face or the constant complaining that made his head pound and ache. 

Until they showed up, their entire being seemed to light up the House at all times. It was close to midnight on Christmas Eve. His eyes began to glaze over, stacks of paperwork blurring into one giant pile. His head had a dull ache that didn’t seem to want to leave. Lucifer rubbed at his temples, trying to blink the sleepiness away. It didn’t seem to work. He reached for his cup of coffee, the fifth one today, yet it was empty. 

Still, so much to do and so little time. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping the lack of light would ease the ache that was pounding in his skull like his brain was trying to claw its way out. Creak. His door slowly opened, a familiar face poking their head in. Their face fell, noting his exhausted expression and the recognizable look of when Lucifer was about to collapse. 

MC entered the room with a disappointed expression, which would typically be mirrored on Lucifer, but he was too tired to care about them judging him. As Lucifer went to reach for his pen, MC got to it first. 

“Absolutely not. You’re coming with me. Now.” Lucifer was secretly grateful but knew he needed to finish this work. 

MC grabbed his hand, held it gently, and rubbed circles on the palm. Their eyes seemed to sparkle with a light that never seemed to dim. He scooted his chair back slowly, and they hugged him tight, breathing in the rich scent of his cologne. He rested his chin atop their head, simply enjoying being able to hold them so close.

Being with them made him feel more awake, more alive. They pulled awake first, which slightly disappointed him, but one look into their eyes made him feel guilty. They gave him those puppy-dog eyes that MC knew always worked on him. They squeezed his hand the slightest bit, a pleading gesture. When he went to stand, and the black dots clouded his vision, he knew he definitely needed some rest.

He made it to the door without stumbling, but he was exhausted. MC walked beside him, hand in hand. The hallway was festive, but the bright red and green lights worsened his headache. Once in his room, they gently pushed him toward the bed, silently telling him to lie down. As Lucifer stumbled toward the bed, MC was beside him, having magicked two cups of hot chocolate. MC put one on Lucifer’s nightstand and kept the other.

As they both got comfortable, MC pulled the blanket around both of them, keeping warm and cozy. Lucifer patted around the bed, searching for the remote, his face a frown when he couldn’t find it. However, the frown softened when he looked toward MC, who was holding the remote with a teasing.

“You really are mischievous.” Lucifer murmured with a soft shake of his head while MC’s grin widened.

They rested their head on his shoulder as the TV turned on, and they searched for Christmas movies to watch. Lucifer pulled them closer, resting his face in their hair and inhaling their fruity shampoo scent. He truly loved them. He was honestly glad that he had to work; he didn’t want to deal with his brothers’ antics. 

As MC settled on a movie, Lucifer tilted their chin up with his index finger, gazing into their eyes with love and devotion in his. Then, he kissed them softly and with all the love and care he could put into it. Once MC broke away, their face was bright red. They buried their face in their hands with a sappy smile they didn’t want him to see. He peeled their hands away, though, and had his own soft, sappy smile.

Being so exhausted made him feel softer. Not that he wasn’t soft with them, but just in general. He almost gave Mammon a free pass earlier; just the thought of it made him wrinkle his nose. His brothers always seemed to take advantage of his kindness, so having someone like MC was nice. He knows his brothers never truly mean harm, but… this was about MC and him, not his brothers. 

The movie was playing, but Lucifer wasn’t fully paying attention; he was just watching MC’s face and thinking about how amazing they looked today. He felt quite lucky that they liked him and he could be with them for as long as possible. A particularly funny moment made them smile so happily. They really were his sun, his light, his everything. He hated to be overbearing but… he let out a soft sigh while continuing to admire their features.

“Come on, watch the movie, not just me.” MC teased, and he blinked back to reality, a slight blush coloring his face.

“Can I not admire a fine piece of art?” MC’s face went redder than his, an embarrassed grin growing. 

They didn’t respond, perhaps too embarrassed by his compliment. Lucifer’s eyelids began to feel heavier and heavier the longer he tried to stay awake. He didn’t want to fall asleep during the movie, but it seemed his body was shutting down. Finally, his eyes shut, and he was pulled into a restful slumber. When he awoke, it was early morning, and MC was nowhere to be seen. 

He pulled the Christmas-themed blanket off and stood, slightly disoriented from having just woken up. As he left his room, he noticed a light shining from underneath his office door. He felt a flicker of anger, assuming one of his brothers was trying to set up some prank or bother him more, but when he opened the polished door, MC was seated at his mahogany polished desk, working on the paperwork he should have gotten done last night.

Once they glanced up, a nervous smile bloomed, as if they got caught doing something they shouldn’t be doing.

“Darling, are you-” Lucifer got cut off by MC’s nervous blurting.

“Yeah, I felt bad you looked so tired so I thought I would do it..” MC trailed off, unsure if they had messed things up.

“Thank you..” It was genuine thanks; he truly hadn’t expected that from them.

“Go get some coffee or breakfast, then you can come back.” MC was being quite bossy, but Lucifer just agreed and left the room, unaware of the fact that MC had completed all of his paperwork, leaving time for the both of them to celebrate the holiday.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

III who is best friends with reader and blatantly hates her now-ex because he was a piece of work :] (i regret dating my ex help)

May end with III and Reader drunk and making out. Add onto this idea if you'd like!!

First choice

iii never liked him. From the moment you introduced them, he hated the guy. So did he squeeze his hand just a bit harder while they shook hands? Yes. Did he ask a stupid question on purpose? Yes. And did his stare promise death? Yes, it did. “Can you behave?”, you had hissed at him a while picking up extra cutlery. “Haven’t killed the idiot so I think I’m behaving just fine”, iii had shrugged, making you let out a grunt as you went back into the dining room.

And quite frankly his suspicions had started to unfold not even after a month of you two being together. From missed dates to ghosted text. To fight each day. iii was a patient man he was listed to you talk about this over and over again. Suppressing the urge to punch the fucker next time he saw him. But it’s a random Friday, he’s been stuck in a studio for hours. Lost in music, when the door opens.

As if by a natural pull his head snaps up. His gut turned at the sight of your bloodshot eyes. The guitar is off his shoulders in seconds as he moves to the side, dogging Ivy as he moves towards the door. “Hey”, he manages to mutter before your eyes meet his and it’s like the final straw snaps. The sob that leaves your lips even with a hand clapped over your mouth is heartbreaking. iii puls you in, one hand cupping the back of your head. His jaw tenses as he feels you bunching up his shirt in your tiny palms as you pull him closer. “I’ve got you”, he mutters, “just breathe with me”.

He’s hyper-aware of everything, the fact that the boys stopped playing. He can feel their eyes burning holes in his back. He can feel how unevenly your heart is beating. The little tremble in your hands. “Come on, I will grab my stuff and we’ll leave”, leaning in he pressed a kiss to your head. “Can you go wait in the car?” He squeezes your shoulder looking down at you. You just nod, taking his car keys from him. Letting go is so hard and he’s left staring at the door for a moment. “iii”, it’s vessel’s voice that pulls him out. “I have it under control”, he muttered, running his fingers through his hair. “Head on your shoulders, mate”, ii says calmly, but iii wasn’t listening as he ducked through the door.

Now hours later his shirt was drenched from tears. Your body was pressed against his as iii slowly ran his fingers through your hair. “I don’t get it”, you muttered for what felt like a thousand time. iii let his eyes close for a heartbeat, “love, he’s the one who fucked up”, he said firmly, “wish I could give him peace of my mind”, “No, promise me you won’t do something stupid if you run into him”, you reached out grasping his hand. “Define stupid”, “iii”, you warned him. “I hate seeing you like this over some… stupid prick”, he grunted, wiping away yet another tear from your cheeks.

You just sighed, shaking your head slightly, “always wanted to be someone’s first choice”. iii watched you for a moment, “you are though”, he pointed out. “Not really no”, you shook your head. “To me you are, always been my first choice”, your head turned to him so fast your vision blurred for a moment, “what?”, you muttered. “Now is probably not the best…”, “iii”, you said a say, shaking your head. “I like you, thought it was quite obvious”, he muttered. “But you… I saw you with… the blonde”, you whispered. “Emily works for our pr, that’s why she was here a couple of times”, iii frowned slightly.

“I only went out with Ben because…”, you let your words trail off before your eyes moved back to iii. You fist his shirt once again, crashing your lips into his. It’s messy and desperate. Both riding a shock wave of it all. “Let…”, iii pulls away, breathlessly before leaning in for one more kiss, “let’s take this slow. Let me properly wine and dine you”, he mutters against your lips. “You don’t have to, I’ve known you for years”, you muse. “No, we are doing it the proper way”, iii argues back, “And I still might punch your ex”, “iii”, you grunt but he’s quick to shush you by brushing his lips over yours once more.

[icepip]

yuta would love having a cute n sweet girlfriend who turns into a brat when they don't get what they want. throws a fit when he doesn't do exactly what she says, deciding that she doesn't want his cock anymore. using a dildo that's bigger than him and making the loudest and lewdest noises possible as she takes it, making his dick ache and leak. he knows he's not big and it's so embarrassing and she's so mean about it, but he can't deny how turned on it makes him. he's pathetic, he knows. she makes sure to tell him as he goes to her and begs her to touch him again, that he'll buy her anything she wants, that he'll take her to her favorite restaurant and treat her so well, he's sorry, he'll do better.

[monotone-artist]

hello please click images for better quality oh my god tumblr whyy

[id in alt]

maria shows shadow how to play dress-up (she's always wanted to do it with someone else)

thank u @fly-sky-high-09 for the request, i had a lot of fun with this hehe

[del-stars]

there's a fame au in my head where sirius is just a worldwide phenomenon popstar and remus is just some folk/country artist that randomly attracted the attention of hordes of lesbians

[wassupmygays]

Thoughts on Chet’s relationship with the other socs? Cuz bro has a crush on Cherry and Bev, which is… interesting

ok to be honest i feel like Everyone has had a crush on Beverly Jitney-Bush at some point in time. but they all know never to try anything because those two are rock solid, and also theyre scared of Bev. fortunately Brill is too whipped for her to even notice, otherwise all the guys would have a broken nose.

anyways. oh chet. unfortunately i think this poor kid flips wildly between feeling like he has the best buddies in the world and feeling like he really hates everything. having most of your friend group paired off into lovey dovey couples will do that to ya.

in my brain he is closest with bob and trip. him and bob are very much 'our dads are best buddies so we grew up as best buddies' core, and i think him and trip are always in sports together in hs. i dont know how football works but if theres some spots on the team that lets them be a dynamic duo, theyre that. im saying this bc those two are always next to each other in blocking and especially in the fights, theyre the ones holding someone back together. trip also has broken chet's nose bc chet tried to call him "dipp-shit" (credits to @nccturneee and @sondheim-girly for this one teehee). also melvin dipp is to chet as ponyboy is to steve.

bro has definitely had a crush on cherry ever since he got to tulsa in like 3rd grade or whatever. he is nawt a homewrecker but he is really stupidly happy when her and bob break up. unfortunately that is immediately spoiled by bob dying in front of him. uhhh yea. sorry bro you cannot catch a break.

i'll stop there for now bc i need to go to bed but chet baker <3 you poor poor 7th wheel. he is so silly tho to me. hes the kid who jumps up to slap every door frame he walks under except hes so freakishly tall that he doesnt have to jump and just hits it full force every time.

[camelspit]

based on that one scene in the gn i think it would be very funny if tiergan, alden, and alina were a former polycule. the worst exes imaginable. they cant stand eachother and no one can stand them when they're together. good for no one and it's a miracle they formed a relationship to begin with.

[amorhedera6]

stephanie lauter may not be a nerd, but i’ve decided she’s still a fandom girlie bc im in control. she likes parks and recreation more than the office bc she doesn’t like cringe comedy, but she can appreciate the writing on the office. she listens to audiobooks while doing other things bc she can’t focus on physical books and she doesn’t like podcasts. true crime doesn’t scare her or put her on edge, but she thinks it’s unsettling to turn the people who were treated horribly into entertainment. she likes the hunger games for what it calls out in society and listens to the audiobooks often like a favorite song. she likes fleetwood mac, obviously, and 70s rock like that, but also 90s angry girl music. paramore, bikini kill. she likes sabrina carpenter and was willing to go down fighting all the people hating on her in the sour-era. she loves movie musicals. greatest showman, mamma mia!, grease. her favorite princess was always tiana and she will fight to the death about it. she likes history class the best, even if she isn’t the best in any of her classes, and was at one point in her life totally hyperfixated on the enlightenment and all the ideas they had and discussed. she loves art from the renaissance and can’t draw or paint at all. she did when she was a kid and her dad told her that they weren’t any good so she stopped. but she knows tons of art history fun facts. she watches video essays about tv shows and movies she’s never even watched. she loves letterboxd. she’s a cool girl but she still makes pinterest boards for her favorite movies.

[artemx746]

okay so I’ve been thinking about this au a lot and now I cannot stop thinking about the big 3 kids being children of minor gods so now I’m sharing my ideas with you lot

Child of Tyche Percy (do you SEE the vision)

child of Hecate Thalia (don’t ask how Beryl could attract Hecate I don’t know but Alabaster’s dad somehow did so…)

Nico and Bianca children of Nemesis (ARE YOU SEEING THE VISION HERE)

[solradguy]

How do i find the motivation to practice art? I have so many shitposts that’ll never come to fruition because my skills plateaued ):

No one else is going to draw my ideas and I'm too broke to pay someone else to do it for me. For better or worse, I seem to approach a lot of things from a "gotta do everything myself around here" angle haha

Honestly—and I won't lie to you—doing art studies is a real pain in the ass, I hate doing them. I never do them unless I've got major art block, and even then I still hate doing them, but it's like taking medicine and I know doing them will make me better. Every art teacher I've ever had's grilled me about this, "solradguy, you need to do 15 studies before the end of the week to get a full grade this quarter." Blah blah blah.

I guess for some people doing studies could be fun, not having to think about pose or composition, whatever, just putting lines down on paper and focus on your reference. One time, when I was still in college, I had to do a certain amount of studies in charcoal so I booted up Red Dead Redemption and drew landscapes or objects from it that I kinda liked. It was enough. I told my professor it was from my grandma's farm hehe

Art memes can be a good way to practice too, especially those ones about drawing in different styles or drawing a character in different outfits. They combine fun with tricking you into drawing things you might not normally draw. Emulating different art styles is the only art study method that doesn't make me want to fall asleep. Don't forget they're just art games though, and especially don't forget:

👉If You Already Feel Burnt Out Don't Feel Compelled To Complete Every Art Meme You Start👈

As you get better at art, you start noticing improvements less and less because they become more subtle. When you're really new to art, figuring out stuff like basic anatomy or shading is REALLY obvious because they're foundational parts of art. Hang on to your really old stuff and look at it every now and then and I guarantee you'll have improved way more than you thought you had.

I get the impression you've probably been at art for a while now, and I don't want to come across as patronizing, but sometimes refreshing the basics can help overcome a plateau too. Drawabox is usually what I recommend to people just getting into art, I really like their approach. Here's a link to their introduction lesson: drawabox.com/lesson/0 And here's one that skips to the actual art stuff: drawabox.com/lesson/1

While it's probably beneficial to actually do the exercises in the lessons, just skimming through reading them can be good too.

Something I've noticed a lot of my artists friends (and artists online) do is try to make every single drawing a finished piece, and I'm like "damn, no wonder art feels like such a chore." My sketchbook is 99% scribbles done in pen:

I use Pentel RSVP fine point ballpoint pens so if I make a mistake I'm forced to deal with it. Doing these rough sketches before starting a bigger piece is something I recommend with my entire heart. Just get a pack of shitty $0.99 pens and doodle like it's high school math class. I like the cheap pens because you can get faint lines drawing lightly and can coax them into darker lines with a bit more pressure (and if you lose/break one it's no big deal).

The best way to get better at art is to keep putting lines on paper. Even if it's just silly pen doodles, you're still improving coordination/pen control, improving construction of basic shapes, exploring concepts, and thinking about art, which will lead to more new ideas and further inspiration.

Sorry this is long and meandering haha Hopefully something here helps at least a tiny bit.

[orpheusilver]

hi sorry i am actually gonna elaborate on the post-canon silvermadi pegging fic bc im never gonna write it but i think someone should cause like. its about trust, and its about overcoming shame. its about "i cant trust you to tell the truth until i know you trust me with it". its about coming to terms with, and expressing, non-heteronormative desire. its about opening up taking time and work and patience. its about being vulnerable, and trusting someone to be gentle. its about silver finally talking about his past and his sexuality without fear or shame. and of course, most importantly, its about a man with long hair having a prostate orgasm

[queenofapeacefuldawn]

hirynne au where they're roommates.... brynne teaches hira how to cook fancy food.... they flirt while making pizza..... enter the remaining potatoes as the ultimate wingmen..... thank you for your time.....