#always love drawing Ashley

[xmrnothingx]

Ashley from Warioware

Older Ashley for the start of October. I figured since Ashley doesn't really care about looks that she wouldn't change her outfit all that much.

[yomixhiii]

🎵🎶🎸"But I'm not sure if they know..."

"How my love began to grow..."🎵🎶🎸

(Here I am experimenting again)

For some reason, Two Wuv moves my brain in reasons I cannot comprehend. The funky happy chemicals™ just start mass producing and i start to pace around the room and sing, same thing happens when i listen to Taken for a Ride, Spring and a Storm and Hymn for a Scarecrow, but Two Wuv just makes me want to do that more. (Maybe it's just my autism, idk).

Without the text:

[just-spacetrash]

@mistermooneyes

re4make got me in a grip!!!!

[colleendoran]

I was curious how you manage to keep features consistent when you draw them? Do you use models? Is there a model for Crowley? He is very handsome.

I don't use models per se, but I sometimes keep files of photos or art that resembles the subject.

Crowley is based a bit on the French actor Alain Delon who was once considered the handsomest man in the world. He doesn't look exactly like Delon, but that is in my head when I draw him. I recall reading Neil and Mr. Pratchett once considered Peter Sellers for Crowley.

There is no reference for Aziraphale because he is entirely in my head and I can't really find anyone who looks exactly the way he does. I recall reading that Neil and Mr. Pratchett thought of Brian Dennehy at one point, but my head canon Aziraphale won. I think a Brian Dennehy Aziraphale would have been amazing, though. Anyway, he is actually kind of hard for me to draw because his facial structure is a bit outside my usual style. His face is a bit long and his eyes closer together than I normally do, and if I'm not careful, he slips away. He appears younger and more classically handsome as an angel than he does in his corporeal form, but I think he's quite fetching as a bookseller.

Michael Sheen is so perfect in this role it is really hard not to leak bits of his performance into the graphic novel edition, but I have to resist the impulse. I am not allowed to use any of the show actors as models.

I adore Michael Sheen. Who doesn't?

Adam is also a head canon character. He is a perfect young Greek God, so that's kind of drawing on a day with a Y in it for me.

The inspiration for Newt I'm keeping a secret. I submitted a number of sketches for Newt. The show Newt dug in deep and I had a hard time shaking him off.

The Them are based on kids I knew. They're in my head, I don't need any photos. They don't really look like the kinds in the show. The book version of Pepper, for example, is a freckled red-head.

Anathema is an amalgam of features that don't come from one person, which I think fits the description of the character. She's also unusual for me to draw but she's easier to draw than Aziraphale. I nail her every time.

Hastur is a caricature of the stereotypical English upper class you'd see in broadsheets 200 years ago. I have a file of pictures of Anthony Ashley-Cooper, 7th Earl of Shaftesbury for Hastur. I considered making Hastur more handsome in a Duke of Hell sort of way, but I think Hastur likes to be scary. I keep thinking of Peter O'Toole when I draw Hastur, too.

I feel kind of bad basing Hastur on Lord Ashley because he was a wonderful person and I'm sure he didn't go to Hell.

Ligur is a broad caricature of Danny Devito. I obviously can't use a DeVito portrait. That would be wrong. But I can tweak from there and come up with a general idea of the face I want to use.

Beelzebub and Metatron are head canon, and don't look a thing like they do in the show. I postulate some demons prefer to look like their angelic selves, and at other times prefer to be fearsome. Crowley can look fearsome when he wants, for example. In the book, Beelzebub appears as a young man in red flames.

Shadwell was drawn from reference at the direct suggestion of Neil.

Madame Tracy is based on a certain person, but no one you would have heard of. The original source might not be flattered, but I love Madam Tracy. She's really easy to draw because she's a bit over the top. I'm sketching around her scenes right now because I don't have final approval on some things yet. So she might need some changes later.

War is head canon, very easy to draw. She's a knockout. No reference required.

Famine looks a lot like Famine in the show, actually, but that's what Famine always looked like, pretty much. Except he has the grey eyes he has in the book.

Pollution is initially described as being a forgettable white guy, but later described as looking like a romantic poet, which strikes me as being memorable. Because he's only on one page in his forgettable white guy phase, I chose not to make major changes in his appearance between those panels and later when he appears as his true self, because that's a bit more confusing than it needs to be in the graphic novel edition. He's rather glamorous as the essence of Pollution, though. No reference needed.

Dog is a dog.

While I do give every detail a lot of thought, I am sure other people have other opinions. I understand that, and hope you enjoy what I do anyway.

Thanks for your question.

I'm still a bit under the weather, so may be stepping away from the net for awhile so I can concentrate on work. I have a lot of sick time to make up.

But don't think I don't appreciate your interest in the Good Omens graphic novel adaptation. Your wonderful support is acting on me like a tonic, let me tell you.

[coff-in]

I RAISE YOU

Andrew and Ashley with younger sister who is EXACTLY as bad as them. Possibly worse. But she hides it so well that it's reallllly hard to find out until the Burial (or Decay) ending. She's clingy and naive! But she just happens to get along well with boys, and Andrew just happens to catch them asking her out a lot. She's shy and likes to stick with Ashley, but it just so happens that girls are always asking to be friends with her, and it would be mean to say no, right? When she can't sleep at night and wants to sleep with Ashley and Andrew, she just so happens to wear really revealing clothes. Whatever, they're siblings, who cares? And if Andrew's hand is too high up her thighs, or Ashley's hand is over her breast, well, she's already fast asleep. She wouldn't know anything about that. In essence! Younger sister reader who is well aware of her older siblings' inclinations towards her and drives them insane with it while acting like a cute little angel (she is a tease). I think they'd prob catch on or at least suspect her, but it only becomes really apparent during Burial when she's *extremely* into getting down and dirty with her siblings (Ashley and Andrew are not emerging without bruises and bites and scratches).

If we're extending this to Decay ending though I think it would also be interesting is a yandere who secretly wanted to keep one of her siblings to herself. Just toxic food for thought ykyk.

notes from coff-in: i don't know if i could elaborate on this wonderful idea even more because this is SO GOOD! (proceeds to elaborate on it more) i love you, 'nonnie.

[fem] reader-insert, [reader] is about 1 year younger than ashley, incest, NSFW, murder and suicide

baby sis [reader] teasing her siblings once they leave the quarantined apartments by offering to write her number on the wall near the restaurant (she doesn't even have a phone :p), pushing the two motel beds together so they could have "one big freedom sleepover" and she's like in a oversized night shirt and some short sleep shorts (or maybe not even wearing any bottoms to bed). maybe she's a clingy sleeper and wraps her arms and thighs around whichever sibling that falls into her nightly grasp. she's squeezing and nuzzling and cuddling them while they take it as an opportunity to feel her up. andrew def is an ass person in my head (don't get me wrong, he loves breasts and thighs too) and he hugs baby sis [reader], letting her hands rest on her ass and giving it a couple of squeezes. leaving her bras or underwear out in the open like ashley does and points it out when asked about it ("if leyley can do it then why can't i do it too?").

baby sis [reader]'s social life was a tool for her to use so she could get the attention of her siblings. telling andrew about the boys who ask her out and asking him if any of them would be right for her ("but of course there's no other man better than you, big bro!") and going to ashley after hanging out with her friends and complaining about how tiring they can be ("augh! they just don't get me like you do, leyley").

baby sis [reader] and julia being friends with each other but they're both using each other in some way. julia uses [reader] and ashley to get closer to andrew and once he and julia start dating, [reader] pretends to be a person to vent to about her relationship. while julia does talk about all the romantic things she does with andrew it's mostly her telling [reader] about ashley and all the death threats she has sent ("he bought me a lovely bouquet of tulips... and then ashley threw them away when i wasn't looking..." "a flower bouquet? how romantic!")

i can see baby sis [reader] leaving poems and love notes and little cute drawings of andrew, ashley and her together with hearts and stuff and she plays them off as either not being hers ("may julia left them for you, andy") or just cute little sister stuff ("the hearts are there to show that i love you guys")

she engages in a lot of physical affection with them both in order to touch and tease them while playing it off as her sisterly love. if she's shorter than them both she'd rest her face on ashley's chest a lot. they're just so comfy!! she'd hold andrew's hand a lot and tell him that brings her comfort and makes her feel safe,,, and he wouldn't want her to feel unsafe and scared, would he?

i think it's important that (from a story perspective i guess) andrew still watches over the parents when they prepare to sacrifice them, but ashley could also leave baby sis [reader] with him too (burial route). mrs graves tells them that she could fix all of this, they just need to ditch ashley and maybe instead of andrew it would be [reader] who threatens her ("i don't really care for how you talk about my big sister ashley like that, so i suggest you quit it :)")

during the vision, andrew and ashley are bitten and scratched up like a dog toy and [reader] is there leaning on ashley's chest, smiling and satisfied "let me know when you guys are ready for another round!"

andrew's blushing because he's embarrassed that he got caught while baby sis [reader] is blushing because it was all way more intense and wonderful than what she thought it would be. "we're never going to be like that, right?" and [reader] responds with a "well i certainly wouldn't mind :)"

a decay route with a yandere baby sis [reader] could have so many endings, you know? i think the game has three different variants/endings in the decay route: murder-suicide (ashley has a loaded gun and chooses not to shoot andrew), ashley's death (ashley has an empty gun), and then andrew's death (ashley has a loaded gun and chooses to shoot andrew). depending on possible earlier choices/actions, baby sis [reader] could either be chill with losing one of her siblings (their attention is less divided, right? more for her then!) or fucking lose it if she lost her favorite sibling to the other. gods, imagine a timeline where she lost both! her entire life revolved around her siblings and gaining their attention and love and if they're both dead in a murder-suicide then she'd probably follow them, too!

this is branching off from the request a bit (a lot) but in a murder-suicide timeline, baby sis [reader] tries to make a deal with ashley's demon/lord unknown to bring them both back to her! aaah!!

this is very long. i usually type my writing on a google doc to get it all organized but i've been thinking about this ever since i saw it this morning. thank you, thank you, thank you 'nonnie for this LOVELY AND WONDERFUL ASK!!! your idea and mind is just... grrr they're so great!!!

----

coff-in

[1eoness]

professor!re4r leon fucking u.. i think (or at least wanting to fuck u)

cw content : leon size kink kennedy (jk) | sub-afab-fem-reader and dom!leon kennedy | age gap(ur 22 he's 27), leon masturbating, penetration, slightly weird ooc leon ♡

[to clarify, i am 18. anyone <18 and anyone >18 uncomfortable with interacting pls dni]

authors note bc i love rambling; btw i'm writing this in public at some boba cafe can u believe that lol im literally supposed to be studying but hwatever fuck it leon make me go blaahhhhhh. btw what do i call this? a fic?blurb?drabble? idklmfao by the way i have NO idea on how to write professor x reader shit so im sorrhy if this sucks ass.

synopsis : conflicted and flustered professor!leon kennedy of your local college struggles to improve his class' average because students like you—incompetent, airheaded, spoiled and klutzy— make it difficult for him :(

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

you heard the rustling of laptop bags and stationery as leon's students left for that morning lecture. though, they moved slow and drowsy; for leon is sure nowadays this generation can't afford to wake up at 6:00 in the morning to prepare for a 7 a.m. lecture on "deviance and crime control."

especially you.

kennedy is a sharp man. he harps on students even if they get a B on any assignment, but he swears it's on his tough love (to which a lot of students aren't really aware of, just that they know this stoic pretty-face of a man has high standards.)

he is also keen on attendance. something girls like you seem to take lightly. it was absurd, really. most professors don't give a shit, do they?

it would've been fine with leon if you missed lectures even twice a week as long as you emphasized your understanding of his lessons through putting stellar effort on your schoolwork. but the best you've gotten on his class was a B- drawing close to a C+.

so, he needs to have a chat with you. urgently.

"l/n, i need to speak with you." leon spoke, confrontative as his black jeans peered from your right peripheral vision. he stood tall beside the edge of the table where you sat. jesus, was he trying to give you a heart attack? (he always had this habit, he'd just pop out of nowhere. he has silent feet.)

yes, you may have missed his lectures from monday to thursday to go to macedonia with your family: but if leon were given the opportunity for a vacation he would snag it too, right?

you looked up at the young professor, wide-eyed and a bit intimidated. what the hell did you do this time? you closed your laptop, gave leon your full attention. leon has also noticed this about you; you're quick to pay attention but you have the memory span of a dumb rabbit. maybe even the IQ of one too, if leon was rude enough.

so you sat there, hands on your lap as you fiddled with the pleats of your blue plaid skirt. the color makes his heart beat a little—he loves the color blue. and the way it looked on you... wait, no. what the hell was he thinking?

"you couldn't even spare the few minutes to e-mail me that you'd be missing four- four, of my classes in one week." he emphasized with a slate tone, and the way his eyes peered down at you added that he needed your reasoning of the situation. he'd love to hear what you had to say for yourself. "i had to talk to your friend, ashley, for some clarification. even the president's daughter has the dignity to show up to my class with a verbal apology." leon scolded as his fingertips met the pages of your notebook. did you even care about his classes? :(

much to your chagrin, your lips were pressed in sheepish silence. hopeless, even. you didn't even have anything to say for yourself? how pitiable.

you simply can't miss class, that wasn't right! just because you thought you could hide in the shadows amidst leon's collective of 73 students (yes he counts), you aren't out of his eyes. in fact, you stood out to him even if you were just an incompetent scholar.

he sighed at your silence. "fair enough, an apology can't compensate for your lack of presence or decorum." he then placed your paper on the desk, you had gotten a D. you were never a bad student but this was your first D ever! your eyes widened and he caught on even though he could only see the crown of your hair. "surprised? because i'm not." leon uttered flatly while his pale fingers flipped through the papers right in front of you. you even spotted a few contractions— when did you even pass this?!

but you weren't a bad girl to him, no. you were capable of shame and guilt. you looked sideways, unable to meet his eyes and training your vision to the floor. you felt low, disappointing a professor that gave you numerous chances to break out of your awkward shell.

"you're a smart girl, you know that?" he finally sighed softly. he wanted you to look at him, make him another promise that you'll start putting effort in his class. he needed to maintain his class's average or else he'd prove he was an inept professor, and he can't do that when he lets 'students like you' get away with shabby attendance and subpar schoolwork. "i don't just give students chances. but that doesn't make you special." and it was true—he's voluntarily failed 6 of his students before. "you'll do something about this, right?"

"yes, professor kennedy.." you muttered modestly.

"hmm?" he hummed inquisitively as he took your paper back. he was willing to give you a chance. "listen to me. i'll give you the chance to redo your paper. i know when students rush their work and if i see even a hint of redundancy in it—i will take all my chances back. and you are never taking absences from my class. i don't want you entering even a minute late, or leaving a second early. i hope we're clear, l/n."

naturally, you were scared. so you nodded up at him after countless confirmations that you will do you work and that you'll show up to class no matter what. he has to use your word against you, he's sorry but it's for your own good.

once he was satisfied, he gave you a nod and turned his side, dismissing you. after all, leon was a busy man. you're not his only student.

it was when you walked out the building and then 20 minutes away from it that you felt like crying. you hated being scolded by him :( but just when you were about to go through your bag for your handkerchief, you were stuck with an inconvenient realization. you forgot your handkerchief.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -♡- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

leon just stared at the table where you sat from just now, backpack strap over his shoulders since he was just about to leave. he gripped onto either of them slowly as he stared down at your handkerchief in contemplation.

a twofold baby-blue hankie embedded with a subtle floral print. tentatively, he picks it up with his hand and examines it. for a minute his mind went blank, conflicting between chasing you and just returning it to you or to leave it by the lecture podium for her to retrieve tomorrow (when you hopefully attend his lesson again.)

..but blue was his favorite color.

"damn it." leon, with a barely audible mutter, shoved the handkerchief in his jacket pocket. he felt like the most guilty man in the world, poor boy.

...

leon sighed.

he wasn't celibate.

his hormones were in shambles once he got to his place. perhaps part of it was because he knew he hasn't graded the recent tests yet.

manspreading, tie loose, shirt stuffy and jeans undone while his hair wisped in slightly disheveled directions. cold breaths followed out his pretty mouth.

"nnn..fuck.. uhh-" leon whimpered into the baby blue cloth, laced with your perfume. he felt so guilty, so perverted. he shuddered every time he could see over the edges of the cloth, seeing his cream-leaking tip from previous orgasms spurt teasingly. "ahh- fuuuck, p-please-"

his grunts were high. he was close to crying, staining your pretty handkerchief with guilty-pleasure-ridden tears. spilled milk, it trailed down his pretty shaft as he pumped it over and over. his motive was you— you were just so fucking stupid and had so much naivete, it absolutely vexed him knowing how endearing you were.

until a slip of leon's mouth surprised him, earning a small squeak from him as he accidentally muffled your name in your cloth. "fuck, y/n- a-ahh.. u-uhh..hmfff.." he was frustrated; whining and cumming while his mind stirred with the thought of you and your pretty eyes and the photographic memory of your dumbstricken face.

he gave out a tired whine into the cloth, so, so close to crying his frustrations out. he just wanted to eat you. christ, and he was so hard for you it made his head ache..

he could only watch his girth that pulsed with white. he pried the sweet handkerchief off his lips, breathing roughly and wiping his tears. he felt so, so sorry for you. the color of the cloth looked exactly like the skirt you wore yesterday. and yet to top it off, he (ashamedly) wiped his cum off with your dainty cloth. oh, he's so sorry..

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -♡- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

he didn't want to come to this point. or maybe he did and god was force-feeding him with culpability (he's atheist). he offered once to tutor you personally. one-on-one, no distractions. and so suddenly, someone's skirt was on his clean carpet floor..

your blouse draped over your shoulder and was pulled above your bra carelessly. he handled you with so much ease, squishing you into position while he tried to slowly push his thick length into your syrupy hole. you bit the knuckle of your thumb, and whimpered timidly that he was too big. but look where you were now.

"fuck- you're so- you feel so good.. shut up and take it all, yeah?.. hmmff-" there leon goes, harping you again. you were so loud but it wasn't even your fault, not when he was pistoning his cock into you and paying no hesitation to his pace. you were simply too sweet for him not to please. "sweetheart, hold onto me.." he mutters.

he was pushing every squeak and cute little wail out of his pathetic student, rutting his tip into that spot. "n-nnghh- aah!~" you were running low on words.

"yeah?- mhmm...ffuck, right here? huh?" the feeling of him thrusting against that spongy part more and more sent your mind further into autopilot. you were past squirming around and pushing him away, you just had to take it.. and take it.. and you were doing so good ��.

"l-leoonn.. m-mm!- fffeels t-too good-" you babbled, mind stuffy with the pleasurably-shameful feeling of being gorged with your professor's thick girth. he shuddered at the way you uttered his name so adoringly. to leon you were so dirty but so, so cute. he had you puddled into tears beneath him while he fucked into your cute little hole with fervor. he just wanted to stuff you full, make you his, adore you forever.

he whined softly into your shoulder. you kept clenching down on him and it made him impossible to think. his phone was ringing on his bedside but he doesn't even give a shit—if anything he tried to drown it out by thrusting into you faster, to which made him lament into your skin. he even adjusted your hips up impossibly further.

"l-leeonn, n-no..— n-no more, please!!-" you blabbered adorably, voice mumbly and whiny as you clawed at his shoulders or back— you didn't know anymore.

"shhh shh.." he cooed over your cries with a quiet and honeyed voice, planting a soft kiss to where he could reach on your face or head. "i know, i know, it feels so good, hm?.. just let it feel good, baby—ahh, fuck-.. uhh..." he moaned lowly into your shoulder, unable to stop the way he rutted his cock into your creamed-up cunt. you seemed to be enjoying it, so why were you complaining? leon thinks to himself smugly but he knows he can't act on his pride. after all you made him like this—submitting to his carnal urges...

you didn't wanna cum a third time, huh? silly little girl.

leon growled quietly into the crook where your neck and shoulder met. you've never heard that sound from him. he held you down, constraining you, and squished you further into his mattress. a helpless and surprised yelp lolled out your tongue as he went impossibly quicker while he cursed like he was about to break down in tears. leon was mercilessly grinding his cock into all your sensitive spots, not letting your pleas of retort contest him. "fuckfuck- u-uhhh, take it, baby, c'mon... do it f'me, it's gonna feel so good-.. ahh!-"

he couldn't even finish his sentence—just piping his cum in you roughly as if he were proving a point, growling whinily along the way. he even kept fucking you shallowly while you were a dumb, sniffling mess with no sense of self-assertion as you creamed all over his shaft uncontrollably a third time. consecutive and quiet whimpers could be heard from you while you soaked in your overstimulation, needing him desperately to reassure you again through the overbearing pleasure of being pushed past what your cunny can handle.

"poor baby." he muttered to himself breathily as he gave the last of his tired, frustrated thrusts and pulled out of you; giving you the time to breathe while he pats your hair down comfortingly. his fluttering eyes finally closed as his head found refuge in your neck, slightly limp with exhaustion as he huffed cold breaths on the wet patches of your skin.

he pulled his head away after a minute of regaining what's left of his strength. leon looked down at you with subtle puppylike eyes, like he was sorry for ever being so harsh on you; even before he fucked the shit out of you. you quietly took your handkerchief to wipe some sweat off his neck— and his cheeks went a little rosy, remembering what he did to it that day you "lost" it ♡.

seems detergent can't wash something like lust away!

[killallaiartists]

i reread this fic just a couple days ago!!! the whole crepe hoodie debacle never fails to make me giggle

who ya gonna call??? 🤨 certainly not these crepes.... i mean creeps

im going a lil crazy stupid today so have more art, this time for the wonderful @queenofbaws fic 'Who ya gonna call? Not these creeps.' :P wanted to do a scooby doo redraw of these guys for SO LONGGG

[janeyseymour]

Love Thy Neighbor- pt 5

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4

Summary: Melissa helps you out. It's not helping the feelings that you have for her.

WC: ~2.15k

You’ve been teaching for a few weeks at Abbott a this point now, and you are eternally grateful for this job. You get to take Ellie with you to school, you don’t have to race around to pick her up after. The staff is nice enough, and your kids are wonderful. They absolutely adore you more than anything. Receiving drawings and cards is an almost daily occurrence, and it melts your heart- your students out in Utah never did things like this. 

You work closely with Melissa during your preps to make sure that your room is going well, and any questions that you have you’re able to ask her. She’s so willing to help you with both big problems (realizing that you have no teacher’s manual for the science unit that you’re set to start the next week) and the small (standing in between your classrooms when you have to use the bathroom so desperately you’re afraid you’re going to get a UTI).

( “Fuck,” you curse softly during your prep while you’re ripping every drawer and cabinet open in your room.

“What’s going on, hun?” She magically appears in your doorway. “You look frazzled, and I can hear the cabinets opening and closing over in my room.”

“Shoot, sorry,” you turn and sigh softly. “I can’t find the science manual that I’m supposed to be basing these science lessons off of.”

“That may be my fault,” the redhead admits with a smirk. “I hated it, so I burnt it and made up my own lessons. You have all the materials for what you have to get done, and I can help you out at home tonight if you bring your planner home.”

“I’ll make dinner.”

—

You’re squirming in your chair, desperate for the bathroom. But your kids are taking a test, and every time you pop your head out the door, there is no one there for you to pull into your room for a quick three minutes while you rush down the hall to relieve yourself.

Melissa appears in your door though to ask you a quick question, and she can immediately see the discomfort written into your face.

“Are you okay?” she asks softly as she makes her way over to your desk.

You shake your head. “I really have to-”

“Go,” is all she has to say for you to take off in the direction of the bathroom.

You come back a few minutes later, much more relaxed now. “Thank you. What’s up?”

“Just came to see if you needed any copies made- I’m sending Ashley to do some… woman’s driving me nuts lately.”

You roll your eyes fondly. “There’s a stack of papers there to be copied and filed if you want to send her in… and I can always come up with other ways to keep her occupied and out of your hair.”

“That would be great,” the redhead smiles at you softly. “Thanks.” )

All of these situations at school, combined with the ones at home are not helping the feelings that you have developed for the fiery redheaded second grade teacher.

At school, she’s sweet enough, but outside of school hours… it’s even worse.

You have your car now, but she still insists on carpooling with you.

( “It’s more cost efficient, and Jacob isn’t on my ass about burning too many fossil fuels now that we come in together,” she rolls her eyes.

“At least let me drive,” you sigh.

“Her booster is already in my car,” Melissa retaliates. “Just get in.” )

Ellie insists on spending time with her whenever she can, and when you think that it’s getting to be too much for Melissa, she’s waving you off and telling you that having the two of you around is the best thing that’s happened to her. She helps Ellie with homework while you’re lesson planning, she insists on making dinner at least twice a week, your little girl is on her hip at dismissal everyday and falls asleep- only for the redhead to shush everyone around her before she carries her out to the car, the two watch cartoons together and snuggle… she’s really stepped up and stepped in for your daughter when she needed some extra love and care.

And with doting on Ellie the way that she does, she’s also doting on you.

( “You eating enough?” she asks you one day when she sees that you’ve hardly touched your meal. You’re instead pouring over your kids’ essays and grading them frantically.

“I’ll eat after I finish grading these and putting them in,” you wave her off. “You and Ellie eat.”

“We already did, Momma,” your daughter says from the couch, reaching for the television remote. How’d she get there?

Before you can respond, there’s a forkful of gnocchi being held up to your mouth, and Melissa is sitting there giving you a look that says not to argue.

“Thank you,” you sigh softly as you open your mouth. She feeds you the rest of your dinner, despite your daughter begging for attention from the redhead.

Only when you’re finished eating does the woman go and pull the little girl on the couch into her lap.

You continue to grade until you have both of them standing at your side. Or, Melissa is standing at your side while Ellie is clinging to her, settled on her hip.

“Momma, you have to come tuck me,” your little girl yawns out. “Miss Mel said it’s bedtime.”

You glance up at the clock to see that it is indeed Ellie’s bedtime. Your heart melts at the thought that the redhead has so seamlessly integrated herself into your life that she not only knows your daughter’s bedtime, but is able to implement it without your daughter making a fuss over it.

The two of you get the little girl into bed and read with her before flicking off the light. You make your way back to the kitchen table to continue grading, and when you expect her to leave, she instead sits down and takes a hefty portion of the grading that you still have to do. Her glasses are on her face, and her eyes are trained on the work in front of her. She grabs one of the pens that you have sitting on the table and opens it to mark a few things.

You’re so busy watching her that you forget to continue grading yourself. She nudges you gently.

“I’m tryin’ to help you, hun,” she chuckles. “You gotta do some work though too.”

You take the graded papers are start entering them into grade book with a sigh. With the two of you working together, grades get put in rather quickly. You can’t help but grin at her sleepily as she grades the last one for you, and you enter the number. 

“I think you just saved my life,” you sigh softly. You lay a gentle hand over hers and squeeze it gently.

“I think you need some sleep, hun,” she tells you gently. “Get to bed, and I’ll see myself out.”

“Or we could just hang out on the couch?” you suggest. “I like when you’re here with me… and I love when it’s me, you, and El, but having some adult time is nice.”

She chuckles but nods and leads you to the couch. She settles into the corner of it, and you slide in next to her, grabbing a blanket.

It’s warm, it’s domestic, it’s cozy. Her arm is draped around you lazily, your head nuzzled into the crook of her neck as you curl up and find a program to watch.

You doze off, and you’re not quite sure for how long because the next thing you know Ellie is climbing on top of you with tears in her eyes. Melissa is still there with you, eyes opening blearily.

“Momma,” the little girl whines and settles herself, half in your lap and half in Melissa’s. “Miss Mel.”

“What’s wrong, sweetness?” you ask her gently, teasing the little wisps at the base of her neck. You press a delicate kiss to her temple, and you see Melissa also move the arm not wrapped around you to soothingly rub your daughter’s back.

“Bad dream,” she mumbles as she lays against the two of you.

You sigh softly. “Do you want to talk about it, or try to head back off to dreamland?”

“Dreamland,” she yawns as she rubs her eyes. “But I want you and Miss Mel with me.”

At the mention of her, the redhead’s eyes widen just slightly.

“Please,” Ellie mumbles as she curls into your neighbor’s side. “Please.”

“Momma will come lay with you,” you try to placate softly. You attempt to pull her into your arms, but she desperately reaches for the woman next to you. “We won’t all fit in your bed, sweet girl,” you tell her.

“Momma’s bed,” she mumbles as she wiggles out of your hold and into Melissa’s. The redhead glances at you, and you shrug.

Knowing that if you deny Ellie right now, she will have a meltdown, and you just don’t have it in you to deal with that. You nod, praying to God that your room is clean.

“Mel can stay for a little bit,” Melissa tells the little girl in her arms. “Until you fall asleep.”

The three of you make your way to your bedroom, Ellie sandwiched between the two of you in bed. Ellie clings to the redhead as she starts to fall back asleep. Melissa hums a sweet little tune before she quietly starts to sing a lullaby in a different language. You realize that it’s Italian quickly, and her voice is so gentle and smooth- even at the soft volume. While it lulls your daughter to sleep, it also lulls you to sleep. 

When you wake up again to your alarm, Ellie’s little head pops up from Melissa’s chest before flopping back down gently. If the redhead wasn’t already awake, she is now. “Oof.”

“You stayed,” Ellie whispers.

“I didn’t really have a choice when you decided to use me as your body pillow,” the woman chuckles softly.

You look over at your girl, who is in fact fully on top of Melissa the way that she usually lays on you after a nightmare.

“Oopsies,” Ellie grins. She doesn’t look sorry in the slightest. Then she jumps up. “Time to see Mrs. Howard?”

“Yeah, sweetness,” you chuckle. You love that she adores her kindergarten teacher. “After we get ready, and you have to let Miss Melissa up.”

She uses the two of you as launchpads to sprint into her bedroom, and the two of you fall back into the pillows gently. You turn your head to look at her.

“Thank you,” you say softly, a smile on your face.

“For?”

“Being here for El and me,” you sigh. “It’s made this adjustment to this new life a lot easier.”

Her eyes are so warm as they stare into your own, and she flits her gaze down to your lips.

As much as you want to kiss her right now, you know you shouldn’t. It would be unprofessional… and you have morning breath. Instead, you throw the blankets back on your side and roll out of bed.

She watches you. She’s thought you were gorgeous for quite some time now, but in the morning when you’re just you and not ‘Miss Y/N’ may be her favorite look of yours.

“Stop,” you laugh awkwardly as you feel her gaze while you try to pick out your outfit. “I look like a mess right now, and you should be getting ready for work too.”

“You’re stunning,” she tells you honestly. “But yes… I should probably head over to my apartment to get ready.” She rolls out of bed and starts to make her way out when you catch her arm gently.

“Thank you,” you say softly as you squeeze her arm.

“Of course.”

She heads for the front door, and you can hear Ellie yelling her goodbyes from her bedroom.

“I’ll be back in a little bit,” the redhead promises. “And then we’ll go to school together. I think your momma’s driving too.” The door closes after that, and as you get ready, you let your mind wander about what would change if you decided to just say fuck it and kiss her again. The two of you would probably end up together… 

But really, with her across the hall and practically being a part of your family already, what more would change? Not much. But if you were to date and then split? That would be… hell.

Maybe she’s worth the risk though. You shrug in the mirror and shake your head as you try to focus on what has to be done today.

Maybe with time… only time will tell. 

[xmads-omensx]

Part 1

Word Count: 2,228

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Reader

Content Warnings: fake dating, mild harassment, swearing

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lacy1986 @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @chey-h @amelia-acero

“So I’m guessing that’s a no on the boyfriend front?” My new boss, Stephen Williams, asked.

God, what a creep.

I had been having issues with his complete obliviousness to any form of personal boundaries since he replaced my old boss three weeks ago.

He refused to acknowledge that my private life was something that I liked to keep… well… private.

“I already told you that I don’t see how this correlates to my work?” I sighed.

“As I said earlier, I like to make sure that my employees don’t have any distractions that might draw their attention away from work.” Mr. Williams explained, still leaning too close to me for my liking.

“And as I said earlier, It’s against policy for you to ask such personal questions.” I replied with a slight edge to my voice.

“Come on, Y/N, tell me something about who you are outside of work.” Mr. Williams leaned impossibly closer, making me lean back, to which he gave a slightly frustrated expression.

“No.” I stood firm on my decision to not divulge any information to him.

His assistant, Wendy, knocked on the door, signalling his next meeting was here. Thank God. You could have cut the tension in that room with a knife.

Stephen was a middle aged, balding man who just loved to remind me that he was divorced and ready to get back out there, as he had put it several times.

He was the definition of a misogynistic boss who loved to control his employees.  

“Saved by the bell.” Stephen laughed, making my skin crawl.

I simply smiled at him and got up to leave. I could feel his eyes on my ass as I left his office.

Returning to my desk, I checked my notifications on my phone, seeing that I had a new snap from Noah, one of my good friends. He had been updating me on his band’s tour.

I opened the snap, which revealed a photo of Folio shoving a large slice of pizza into his mouth. It made me laugh, which was usual for Folio.

I hurriedly typed out a message to Noah, ranting about Stephen’s behaviour in our earlier meeting.

He always listened to me when I ranted about the inappropriate behaviour directed towards me at work. I was supposed to be safe from that in the office, but that hadn’t been the case since Stephen started working here.

Ashley, my coworker, had expressed distaste towards the balding man, but never explicitly said she had similar interactions with our boss, so I never mentioned it to her. Simply because I didn’t want to start any drama at work.

My phone vibrated, indicating a reply from Noah.

‘He’s such a creep’ the text read. I replied with a simple ‘yup’ before telling him that I would fill him in on what happened when I got home that evening.

Noah and I met years ago at a mutual friends birthday party.

Michael and I had been friends since I moved to LA seven years ago to work as a band promoter. I didn’t last long doing that since it was so unpredictable, but Michael rapidly became a very close and very good friend.

At his birthday party six years ago, I was introduced to his friends in ERRA and Bad Omens. Noah and I hit it off almost immediately. We both loved anime, reading and terrorising Michael, so we quickly became joined at the hip.

It was nice having  friends like Noah and Michael so soon after moving to LA, since I was terrified of the new start.

Loud, booming footsteps shook me out of my thoughts as Stephen marched his way through the office. He shot me a vile wink as he passed my desk, squeezing my arm as he passed.

His behaviour sickened me right to my core. He had no business acting like that in the workplace, especially not so soon after getting the job here.

Since he was my boss, I had accepted the fact that there was nothing that I could do to prevent this behaviour, or even dream about putting a stop to it.

It sucked, but it was reality.

At the end of the day, I got my work done, and I got it done well.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ashley roll her eyes as Stephen passed. Thank God someone agreed with me.

“Such a creep.” Gabi leant over and said in a hushed voice from her desk.

I simply nodded my head, not wanting to speak in case I let all of my frustrations out a little too much in from of Mr. Williams himself.

The clock on my desk read 5:02pm, which meant I had finished my shift. Excellent.

I grabbed my black suit jacket and black bag that had a Bad Omens reaper keychain hanging off of it, curtesy of Davis at last year’s secret Santa who panicked and just made me Bad Omens merch, and walked towards the lift at the end of the room.

My black kitten heels clicked off of the floor as I neared my escape from this hell hole.

“Y/N!” A voice called out. Shit. It was Stephen.

“Yes.” I said with a sigh, trying to remain professional, but I was sure he noticed me faltering as I turned back around.

“Do you need a ride home?” He asked.

“No.” I replied bluntly, not wanting to give him the room to say much else.

“Let me drive you.” Mr. Williams said with a sickeningly sleazy grin. Over his shoulder I could see both Gabi and Ashley fake gagging at his actions and it tool everything in my being not to laugh at their response.

I would have done the same in their position.

“No, thank you. I’m really okay.” I replied, trying to remain both polite and professional.

“It’s dark, and I don’t want a woman like you wandering alone in the dark.” He said as if that was the most reasonable concern ever. Ew.

“A woman like me?” I questioned, too taken aback by his statement to filter my words.

“You know…” He began to backpedal. “Single, defenceless, beautiful. I would hate for anything to happen to you.”

I was more worried that something would happen to me if I let him give me a ride home, but I would never tell him that.

“Like I said, I’m okay.” I turned to leave once again when his disgusting hand grabbed my forearm.

The office went quiet.

“Let me take you home, Y/N, I’m not offering, I’m telling you. As your boss I am going to drive you home.” He said, an angrier tone creeping through.

I knew damn well that he wouldn’t offer the same to Ashley or Gabi, or any of the other employees here. The male employees were all treated with respect, whilst us female employees were subjected to his misogynistic outlooks.  

Suddenly, my phone began to ring. Thank God.

Pulling it out of my jacket pocket, I saw that the called ID read ‘Noah’. Even better.

“Who’s that?” Stephen angrily asked. Clearly frustrated by my divided attention.

“It’s my boyfriend.” I said without thinking. In fairness, I panicked. I regretted those words almost immediately after they came out of my mouth.

“You never told me you have a boyfriend.” Mr. Williams exclaimed, clearly livid but trying, and failing, to hide it.

“I didn’t think I needed to.” I said, trying to remove his firm grip from my forearm.

“Why is he calling you?” Stephen asked. Clearly angry and failing even more to disguise it.

Ashley and Gabi moved closer to where we stood by the lift. Gabi had reached her shirt-clad arm out to signal to Logan, one of our more… imposing coworkers, to be on standby should anything happen.

Luckily, it didn’t come to that.

“Well, I presume to ask if I’m on my way down. I was supposed to have left… six minutes ago.” I replied, checking the time on my phone.

Noah did in fact pick me up from work most days, but this time was the only day I was actually excited to see him.

Stephen released his grip on my arm, I rushed into the lift.

I waved a goodbye to Ashley, Gabi and Logan before heading to the ground floor, which they returned before retreating to their desks and grabbing the rest of their belongings.

As soon as the lift doors slid closed, I released a sigh that I hadn’t realised I was holding.

The lift doors reopened to reveal the open plan lobby.

It was mostly white décor. It had a gorgeous marble floor that made my kitten heels make the most brilliant click clack sound as I walked. The ceiling was high with a large chandelier hanging down in the centre of it. It was by far the most beautiful place I had ever worked in. Noah and the others often joked that my building looked like it was owned by the mafia since they weren’t allowed up to any of the higher floors as there was sensitive information regarding companies on the other floors.

Through the large glass windows at the front of the building, I could see Noah’s large, black truck parked in his usual space.

When I began working there, I was given my own parking space, but I don’t drive so Noah was allowed to park there instead as long as the company had his registration plate registered as mine, which it was luckily.

Without Noah, there was no way I would be able to get to and from work, especially not today with my borderline insane boss trying to take me home himself.

Who was I kidding, he was probably going to take me to some evil lair and hold me hostage.

I like the image of Stephen Williams being some evil James Bond villain, simply so that he was less intimidating to me if I associated him with cliches.

However, the lift doors of the second lift opening behind me, filled me with unease, which only worsened when I turned around and saw Stephen standing behind me.

“I already told you I have a ride home.” I said, still trying to be polite even though my patience was wearing increasingly thinner and thinner.

“I know, I know.” Stephen began, raising his hands up in surrender. “I just want to meet him.”

“No, you can’t we’re in a rush.” I said.

“A rush? A rush for what?” He asked, seeming suspicious.

“We have plans.” I replied.

“What plans?” He asked.

“I’m not too sure that’s any of your business.” I responded, turning to walk away. His loud footsteps following after me.

I sped up, but so did he.

The glass automatic doors opened, and I could see Noah step out of the driver side.

He always hugged me after work because it made me feel better, and I had never been more grateful for one of those hugs until this moment.

He began to round his truck, and I practically launched myself at his large, tattooed body. He brought his strong arms down and enveloped me in a tight hug.

We pulled back from the hug, but I kept my arms looped around his waist.

“Do you trust me?” I asked quickly.

Noah looked at me, confused.

“Do you trust me?” I asked again, more urgent this time.

He simply nodded. “Of course I do.”

That’s when I did something that I would probably regret for the rest of my days.

I grabbed the strings on the Bad Omens hoodie that he was wearing and pulled him into a kiss.

Stephen’s incoming footsteps halted as I kissed my best friend.

What the fuck was I doing?

Noah then kissed me back, probably realising what was happening.

When we pulled away from the kiss, I could see some confusion remaining in Noah’s beautiful brown eyes.

“This is my boyfriend, Noah.” I said to Stephen who stood in the middle of the car park with a stunned look on his face.

I was hoping and praying that Noah would realise what was happening and just go along with it.

He did, and I let out a relieved sigh, as he put his arm around my shoulder, placing a loving kiss on the top of my head.

“As much as I would love to stay and chat, but Y/N and I have plans, don’t we honey?” Noah spoke up.

I smiled up at him before climbing into the passenger seat.

Noah climbed into the drivers side, silence filling the car.

“So.” Noah began.

“So.” I replied.

Another pause.

“Am I pretending to be your boyfriend now?” He asked, still confused.

“If you don’t mind.” I replied. “It won’t be for long. Just enough to get Stephen to leave me alone.”

“Of course.” He said with a quiet laugh. “You know I’m always here for you.”

I smiled back at him.

Still, a part of me worried if I had taken it too far by throwing Noah into the deep end like this, but I didn’t exactly have much of a choice.

Noah didn’t seem too phased by the idea, but I was still nervous.

What if this crashed and burned?

What if I had ruined everything?

I guess time would only tell.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

physics and english teacher love affair

pairing: ps5!peter parker x fem!reader

wc: 1.5k

warnings: none. squeaky clean, just happy fluff

summary: those two teachers that students are always interested in their relationship status.

A/N: guess this could be for any spidey, but i’m just really falling for ps5 peter and there’s like a hand full of fics for him. not fair!

masterlist / peter parker

working at the same high school with your boyfriend is harder than it looks. the two of you try to stay professional during schooling hours, not needing the staff or students in your business. but hearing miles tell you and peter, “people are very invested in your interactions,” made both of you realize you weren’t very good at keeping a low profile.

-

instance 1

“okay…jaime! your take on the dream sequence. what does it tell you?” looking to the male student near the back. he was dozing off a bit earlier so this was a wake-up call.

he floundered a bit, “uh, uh…the dream sequence…it’s a- a dream?” light giggles filled the classroom at the foolish answer.

a gentle sigh from your lips, “yes, jaime. but do you see any significance to our story?” being patient with him as he flipped through his book and packet, “uh…”

and before he could joke or stall, your door opened drawing all eyes to the popping in head. “sorry for interrupting,” peter apologized to the students then you. “

a wavering smile. “it’s fine. jaime,” the boy looked startled, “a few minutes to find an answer and then give me something. please.”

you looked over to peter again and waved him in. the door closed with a soft clink behind him, his steps thudded lightly against the linoleum tile. both of you exchanged delicate smiles as peter sat on the edge of your desk.

“what’s the occasion?” whispering low since his heightened hearing will pick you up. both of you tried to stay away from each other’s classrooms as much as possible, but the two of you were magnets, always attracted to each other.

peter shrugged, “nothing, just thought you would like to see me.” a playful tilt of his head.

a twitch of your lip, “and i thought we would only do that during our planning period.” subtly knocking your knuckles against his thigh. peter flashed a smile, “well, i also got you something, from our favorite bakery. if you want-“

“yes!” voice an excited yelp. the kids chattering came to a stop at your raised cry. you cleared your throat, “sorry. a few more minutes.” and they happily returned their gossip.

peter chuckled, “a little hurt you had more of a reaction for pastries than your awesome boyfriend.” you rolled your eyes, “well at work you’re my friendly co-worker.” “ew, gross.”

teeth biting into your bottom lip to stop a gleeful smile you made grabby hands for your treats. peter teasingly rolled his eyes while reaching into his backpack for your present. you had to hold your squeal in at the muffin and donut, mouth salivating at the sweet smell.

“i should head out. don’t want to stop your lesson.” making a move off your desk. you stopped him with a hand wrapped on his wrist, “wait, lean forward a bit.”

peter furrowed his brows as you urged him close, you ignored the dozen of eyes watching you both.

grabbing your lesson plan packet you covered both lower halves from curious eyes. “i love you. thank you for the sweets.” then blew peter an air kiss.

his cheeks pinked quickly and you cooed internally. peter sent a kiss back before swinging his bag onto his shoulders and waving goodbye to your students.

when he left the room you clapped your hands to signal order back. “okay, jaime. figure out an answer?”

“is mr. parker your boyfriend?” a girl, ashley, blurted out.

the class froze along with you. you took a moment to take stock of the abruptness before replying, “it’s rude to blurt out questions and second, no he isn’t.” heart cracking a little at the white lie, “but that’s none of your business, ashley.”

-

instance 2

the day before christmas break peter decided to play the class home alone. kids either watching the movie, chatting with friends, playing card games from out of nowhere, or just napping away the last hour of the school day.

peter and miles were sat at his desk, talking about the latest on spider-man. miles was in the middle of talking about a gang bust from the other night when multiple students said, “hi, mrs. l/n.”

peter and miles stopped talking to see you enter the classroom, waving to a few students who had seen you earlier in the day.

you walk up to peter’s cluttered desk, “hi boys.” stealing his rolling stool so you can join them. in the dark peter loop his right arm behind your back before pulling you in close, lips spreading into wide love struck smiles.

“how’s my best girl?”

a content sigh, “so excited for a week off. can’t wait to do coupley holiday stuff and also celebrate hanukkah with you. miles,” turning to the junior, “any plans with your time off?”

miles talked about how he was gonna visit hailey’s family for the first time. “really nervous, don’t want to mess things up.”

“you won’t, they’ll love you.” washing away his worries as peter’s fingers drummed on your waist.

“your great with parents and plus you’ve gotten a lot better at your asl. earn you brownie points.” peter affectionately punched miles’s bicep.

“what was may’s first impression on you?” miles turned the conversation around.

you perked up as the memory flashes to mind. you glance at peter and he has a look on his face, already knowing what you’ll say.

“well may opened the door and as i was introducing myself she interrupted with “oh! you must be y/n. peter can’t keep your name out his mouth for longer than two minutes. i’ve timed it. that boy is deeply in love with you, just don’t tell him i’ve said that, he’ll be a blubbering mess.” and i didn’t tell him until he said i love you first.”

peter tucked his chin to his chest hiding away his flushed cheeks while miles covered his laughter.

you carded fingers through peter’s growing hair before leaving a peck on his cheek. “i’m gonna pack my things then come back. enjoy your break miles.”

-

instance 3

“mr. parker and ms. l/n are definitely a thing.”

miles heard the charter from across the lunch room at the mention of your names. he tried to look distracted with his homework to keep listening in.

“and what’s your proof this time?” a boy asked the girl.

“well one, i saw them leaving together when i had to stay late to help mr. johnson. they were laughing and smiling in that love sick way. also could totally tell they wanted to hold hands when they kept bumping them. and second, i saw them at the subway station-“

“so you stalked them?” a girl interrupted the retelling.

the storyteller sighed, “no i just happen to take the subway, like most of new york does. anyway, i don’t take the same train as them but i walked past them and they were now holding hands and then…” taking a dramatic pause before almost squealing, “they kissed!”

a bunch of girls joined in the yells and a few boys were like “holy shit!” and others like “whatever.”

miles stopped listening and just smirked down at his homework ready to tell peter this news.

-

instance 4 the final

you know the nosey students are gonna have a field day if they spot the new jewelry on your finger. a huge milestone has been made on a simple thursday during spring break.

“okay class. welcome back! if anyone wants to share a quick story about their break just raise your hand.” a couple shot up at lightning speed and then some more slowly.

you squint your eyes while humming, “emma. what did you do?” she went on a quick spiel about visiting her mother’s family in atlanta, also how she managed to snag tickets for a spa concert at the box office.

“girl i’m jealous. i wish i could see sza. okay… jaden! what’d you do?” he said he just stayed in the city and worked, hung out with his friends on his days off.

“already getting a taste of adult life. well i’m glad you made time to relax. uh final one is… ashley. how did you spend your break?”

“oh, nothing special. i just have a question for you and the new ring on your finger.” a sneaky smile appeared, exactly what you wanted. she’s been the most observant on your relationship.

“you may ask.” folding your hands so the stone reflected a bit of light.

“did mr. parker propose? is he your fiancé now?” and most of the girls in the room were practically vibrating in anticipation.

you smiled down the ring, fiddling with the band. you looked up and said calmly, “yes. mr. parker is my fiancé.”

and you could bet that peter heard all the commotion of your room from down the hall, already preparing for nosey teens to ask him a similar question.

both of you were just glad to proudly say the other was yours.

turns out working at the same high school as your fiancé isn’t gonna be so bad after all.

-

[courtofparrots]

Luis Serra and his use of false bravado

I'm writing a fic right now that requires a pretty in-depth character analysis of Luis, and I wanted to talk about one of my favorite things about him, which is his use of false bravado to get out of sticky situations, and the expressiveness he displays in the moments in between.

We talk a lot about Leon's micro-expressions when he's trying to hide his feelings, which don't get me wrong, I LOVE to analyze, but Luis has such telling expressions as well, and we should talk about it! (I also saw some gifs of Luis's expressions being modded onto Leon and THAT got attention but... neither here nor there).

To me, it always looks like he's using an almost silly amount of swagger when he interacts with others to portray his confidence, and he barely ever lets that wall down. Unlike Leon and Ada, he's a civilian, but he jokes around and flirts every time he's in front of them, despite being in situations where he really should be behaving more like Ashley, like when he narrowly avoided being tortured to death and he's just like "nice, cigs"

We as the audience are only privy to his mask slips in 3 different types of situations, as far as I can tell:

When he feels like his luck is about to run out: he goes from acting confident to suddenly displaying a lot of fear on his face, while he wildly casts around for something to say to help him out. In both of these instances, he completely regains his bravado once he thinks he's safe again, i.e. when Ada saves him from the torturers, or when he realizes Ada knows who Leon is. This is also just kind of adorable. Watch the way his face falls when he realizes Ada is mad, and then the way he flounders when she points her gun at him.

2. When no one else is looking: This one stood out to me from the very beginning because he's actually still speaking with confidence as he explains that the plaga can be removed, but Leon and Ashley can't see his face, where he's clearly showing his trepidation, his guilt about them being infected, etc. and then notice how he goes right back to smiling and confident when he turns around to face them again.

3. When he feels concern for others: Luis is an extremely caring person, and one of the most common moments where he lets his mask slip is when someone else is in danger. Obviously the first thing that comes to mind is his reaction to the medicine being destroyed, but I also want to draw attention to the look on his face when Ada is in danger and she tells him to leave her. And I know I included him looking away from Leon and Mendez in a previous post but here's a higher quality gif so you can really get your heart broken by how scared he looks:

Anyways, I just love the little things that make up characters in this game. I also have analyses about Ada and Ashley that you'll probably get whether you want it or not because I love them, and their characterizations are so interesting.

[dailydamnation]

Well, I said that if they kept giving X-ladies solo books, that have to get around to Illyana eventually, but I didn't dare believe in it.

A solo ongoing for our girl. This is a good day.

Generally, I'm not big on solo X-titles, teams just work best. I've always thought Illyana is one of the characters who it would work with, though. Part of that is bias, obviously, but I think that to justify a solo, you need a character with personal stories that are distinctly different from core X-Men/mutant stories. They surprised me by finding a solid take for Jean in making her go cosmic.

Illyana's magic and demons really set her up for a unique run, and it looks like we might be getting it:

The mystic mutant goes demon hunting in her own series! The X-Man Illyana Rasputina strikes out on her own with new allies and dark powers arrayed against her.

New allies? Leah Helranger when?

Having Ashley Allen return after her Blood Hunt oneshot is a big win. Illyana really felt like Illyana in that story, and played to her strengths.

Germán Peralta I've always liked, and I think his style could be a great fit for stories like these, too:

Throughout the series, Magik will also be forced to come to terms with her tragic history and learn to control her demonic Darkchylde persona. After years of suppression, Illyana’s Darkchylde form returns from the depths of her tormented soul to offer her more strength and power, but at what cost?

This is perfection--the struggle with her dark side that is fed by her trauma, while in the same breath Allen describes her as a character with a heart of gold... Trying to be good while fearing that she's bad is core Illyana.

Literally the only quibble I have with this announcement is Peralta saying he especially loves the Bachalo design, and that costume is my personal pet peeve and won't keep me from loving this book. (Is it wrong that I love it already? It's nice to have faith.)

I love the idea of the Darkchylde having stages, growing more monstrous as Illyana gets taken over by dark impulses. And those wings? Fire addition to the design.

As a bonus, here is Germán Peralta drawing Illyana years ago in Age of X-Man: Prisoner of X #2:

Now just to decide how I'm going to get this, since I don't have a pull list at my local comic shop anymore. Marvel Unlimited still runs months behind on physical releases, which is okay for most things, but...

[familiarscars]

Devil's Night | Bad Omens

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

One day I woke up and wanted to be chased to the sound of Milagre.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X Female!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. It's devil's night and you've been invited to play. If you don't get caught by them, you win..

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). Foul language, alcohol consumption, masked men, stalking, reverse harem, why choose, taking turns, explicit sex, fear games, submission.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

Devil’s Night.

The first time she heard those words, thought it was just another excuse for parties and excess, but here, in Detroit, it’s different. People speak of this night as if it were a tradition, passed down from generation to generation, almost like a silent pact that no one dares to question.

Yes, it’s Halloween Eve, but it carries a taste of danger that goes beyond costumes and carved pumpkins. It’s not about trick-or-treating; it’s more like… a rite of passage, where each person lets their dark side surface, testing their own limits and those of others. And the entire city, somehow, agrees to turn a blind eye to what happens in the shadows.

In the alleys and empty hallways, you can feel something waiting, hidden between the walls and beneath the fog that stubbornly refuses to lift. The seniors, of course, love it. They create challenges, make absurd promises to the freshmen, as if they’re initiating them into some ancient secret. But it’s not a secret; it’s more like a warning.

I don’t know exactly who started it—maybe some group many years ago, looking for a way to release their frustrations, or perhaps the city already came with this curse built in. But, either way, everyone participates, whether in the role of the observers or those who get lost in the night.

You were about to leave home, dressed up for another Devil’s Night in Detroit. Your friends had invited you over to drink a little before heading to the Lions' party, the fraternity responsible for the highest concentration of players that night. At first, you were ready to turn down the invitation, wanting to go straight to the celebration and get it over with once and for all, but seeing the flyer advertising the Geordin’s pub attraction made you change your mind.

Bad Omens was the main act in an intimate show, and you felt a bit excited to know they were back in town. It had been a while since you last saw them—if you weren’t mistaken, on the last Devil’s Night.

"Don’t tell me you’re not even a little excited to see him again…" Ash nudged your ribs with a playful voice, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"They’ve grown so much since the last time I saw them, Ash. They definitely have no idea who I am."

"And what if I told you that’s not exactly true?" Ashley’s glittering eyes blinked behind her long lashes as if she had some valuable information. She rested her hands and phone under her chin while watching you finish getting ready in the mirror. "I messaged Steve; we chat sometimes, and when he told me he’d be in town, I didn’t fail to mention your name…"

"I can’t believe you did that!"

"I scored us four VIPs tonight thanks to my shamelessness. No need to thank me, babe!" Ash winked and blew a kiss at her own shoulder, ignoring when you rolled your eyes at her boldness.

You didn’t want to admit it, but a strange sensation was building up in your stomach, making you feel cold with every step you took out the door. According to your friends, you looked good enough to draw a crowd to your feet, and deep down, you hoped they were right.

Geordin’s was, as always, sweltering, packed, and filled with people dressed up in Halloween costumes. You were just in a short black dress and heavy makeup—this date was special, a night for vixens to leave their homes in their smallest outfits, best heels, and bold eyes to be, for one night, what they longed to be all year.

At the bar, you grabbed a drink and walked with your friends to the VIP area near the stage. With each minute closer to the performance, your stomach grew colder, while your friends chatted excitedly beside you, never quieting for a moment. It had been a long time since you last saw him, and you tried your best not to expect him to remember any fragment of the past Devil’s Night.

“Welcome to the show of bad omens, my friends,” said the recorded voice from the speakers, making the crowd go wild.

The lights went out, and your body froze in place as the intro to the first song began. His voice was still unmistakable and unique, pleasing to the ear, even live, weaving together with the guitar and drum solos as if they were one.

When you turned to the stage, Noah was gripping the microphone with his eyes closed, and you allowed yourself to take in the melody, singing along with all your heart as you remembered why this was your favorite band. At the end of the third song, he glanced over the crowd as if looking for something, seeming about to give up, until his eyes finally landed on you.

A jolt of electricity surged from your legs, coursing through your entire body. Noah gave a brief smile and bowed his head, waiting for the next song’s intro. You knew the setlist, and this wasn’t one of the songs played at previous shows. In fact, you recognized it instantly; it was your favorite track.

Careful What You Wish For hadn’t been played in recent shows, but he knew how much that song meant to you, and he’d included it in Detroit just to show that he did, indeed, remember you. Something damp threatened to pool in your tear ducts; this song reminded you of moments you’d rather forget, moments the band had made more bearable to face.

As the final song ended, the lights went out, and the guys left the stage to the applause of the crowd. Your heart was still racing from the mix of emotions caused not only by the show, but by the series of subtle glances he had thrown your way during the pauses between songs. You bit your lip gently, gripping your glass a bit tighter, wondering if it could be a sign.

But you quickly brushed off that foolish thought and shook your head, dismissing it.

You and your friends finally arrived at the fraternity party, and all of you, including yourself, were buzzing with excitement to start the real celebration. Everyone was in costume, music was blasting, the smell of marijuana filled the air, and alcohol was flowing freely.

It seemed like the perfect night.

“I wouldn’t recommend drinking too much,” Ash warned, pointing at your glass as you sipped the colorful drink through a straw. “The games start in a few minutes, and you won’t want to be throwing up during the hunt.”

You laughed, remembering what happened last year when you mixed a few drinks with cheesy snacks, resulting in a puddle of vomit that took you home before you even considered playing the traditional hunt.

Every year on Devil’s Night, the Lions held a hunt in the Shadow Woods. The game involved all the guests being released into the forest, blindly searching to capture as many targets as they could until they reached the other side. With no flashlights or any source of light, identifying anyone became nearly impossible as everyone wore masks to hide their faces.

A certain chill lingered in your stomach, and a tremor in your legs threatened to shake your confidence, but you preferred to think it was because of the drink, not the fear of who your potential hunter might be. Your mind raced through quick strategies to avoid being caught, though not knowing the Shadow Woods at night made it all the more difficult.

With your feet firm on the earthy ground, you were as ready as the other competitors. You looked around, feeling adrenaline pulse through your veins, filling your brain like a song made to build tension until reaching its peak. You felt ready for whatever the night had to offer.

The whistle blew.

Your legs pushed you forward, running as fast as you could, straining your vision to dodge trees and jump over branches. You listened closely to the sound of dry leaves and twigs that snapped underfoot as the predators ran. All of them were desperate, hungry in their hunt for prey. At the same time, it felt frightening; it was exhilarating enough to make you push for more speed.

Energized, you glanced over your shoulder now and then, trying to detect any approaching threat, but as you pressed on, you heard fewer footsteps. Breathless, you slowed down and marked the trees with your fingers as you continued to walk carefully.

Your steps froze in place when you suddenly heard heavy breathing. The footsteps behind you moved over the dry leaves, signaling that your hunter was approaching stealthily, like a snake. Slowly, you realized your feet didn’t obey the commands in your head—they wanted to keep running, but your body remained there, unmoving.

He knew there was no point in running. He knew you were lost. He knew you didn’t want to go anywhere.

“Good girl.” His voice whispered close to your ear, making you jump in shock. “You didn’t let anyone else catch you. You waited for us like a good girl.”

“She knew that no matter where she hid tonight, we’d find her.”

“We always find you…”

Through your peripheral vision, you counted all four of them, gathered in balaclavas, closing off any way out. Swallowing dryly, you felt your breathing falter as they each took a step closer, forming a claustrophobic barrier around you.

“Now you’re ours.” Noah’s voice echoed in your ear as you felt the fabric of his balaclava graze your cheek. “Once you lose the game, you become our prize.”

A brief jolt made you sit upright when you felt something wrapping around your wrists; he was tying your hands together with a rope. The remaining length of material was used to fasten another knot around your neck, this time slightly tighter.

In your mind, there was no room for doubt, because you remembered the main rule of Devil’s Night. You were free to make your desires real for one night.

Why not surrender to them?

Slowly, Noah pulled you along the length of the leash, and stumbling a little in your own steps, you followed him. He exuded a scent of sweat mixed with Savage cologne; his arms were exposed by the black tank top, and he wore cargo pants and boots. Each determined step he took made you tense up, fearing what was to come, and the walls in the form of men surrounding you added to your apprehension.

Your steps halted when the tall man pulling your collar from the front froze in place. The forest offered little light, and thanks to the moonlight filtering through the gaps in the trees, you could see the intricate tattoo designs on his back, partly covered by his tank top.

A breath, subtle but present, brushed your ears with warm breath from behind.

"How about a game?" Folio’s voice was so soft it seemed to dance at a unique frequency. "We’ll ask a question, and for each wrong answer, you lose a piece of clothing."

"A game is only interesting to me if both parties are involved. In that case, what do I get if I’m right?" You dared to respond, challenging him with a side glance.

"Don’t act as if you don’t like the idea of not being in control for a few hours…" Folio taunted, stepping closer with a deadly step. His body was too close this time. "All you desire is for the reins to be in someone else's hands, just for one night, someone who knows your dirty mind well enough so you don’t have to spell out what you need. Am I wrong?"

You weren’t afraid of anything and made a point to shake your head in defiance.

"Wrong answer."

"Not at all!" you contested without much conviction. Deep down, defying him and contradicting yourself with feigned reluctance was part of your game.

The cold wind touched your back just as one of their fingers slid the zipper of your dress down, exposing your bare skin. Slowly, you felt the fabric glide down your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps wherever it passed.

You shrank a little, feeling a hint of discomfort when you noticed several pairs of eyes observing your exposed form, but a tug on the leash immediately made you lift your chin.

"Don’t you dare lower your head, darling" another voice murmured as a finger traced along your chin, the wetness of a tongue brushing against the skin of your ear. "Not when you have a body like this. We can savor you without even touching. Consider yourself a goddess, displayed for adoration and worship."

Gently, he slid his hand from your chin to reach your cold-stiffened nipples, slow circular movements warming your thighs as Jolly’s voice stimulated you, his hands exploring your body without any rush.

They wanted you to surrender.

Indeed, you were already theirs.

For just one night, you belonged to them.

In front of you, Noah watched you with a tilted head, as if watching an intimate moment of pleasure was amusing to him. He wrapped the excess of the leash around his hands until it tightened, lifting your neck up toward him.

In one last visceral glance, Noah pressed his lips against yours.

A fierce kiss, charged with desire pent up since the last visit, filling every corner of your mouth, leaving you wanting for absolutely nothing. Between breaths, you let out a contained, low moan as those hands moved from your chest down to your hips.

His fingers, when they found your entrance, sent a current of electricity through the rest of your body. Jolly was warm and soft as a rose petal, he tortured you with the slowness of his synchronized movements on your clitoris and during the kiss you held Noah's lips between your teeth gasping a heavy moan.

Noah smiled, feeling how his body twitched in his friend's hands, he released his lips and dragged them down his face, allowing his moan to reverberate through his ears more clearly.

Just when you were about to give signs that you were going to collapse under Jolly's fingers they suddenly stopped. You panted and wanted to show that you were disappointed, but you didn't have time, Noah pulled you by the collar and turned you so that you were facing away from him. A quick scream escaped your lips at the surprise of the impact of your hips against his, you felt his bulge harden and let out some air through your nose.

A soft hand ran its thumb over her face, a caress similar to the one she felt on her ass as Noah explored her. At the same time they used their thumbs, Noah lifted your dress until you were completely exposed to prepare you, he dipped his fingers in your wetness and seemed to delight in it. Their eyes were fixed on the man before them, gently brushing strands of hair away from his face and lifting his chin.

“Good girl, good girl.” he whispered, sliding his thumb into your mouth, without breaking eye contact, you sucked his finger slowly until you reached the tip.

You watched as Folio grunted and finished sliding his cock into his free hand and bringing it closer to your face, passing it across your lips slowly. You moaned from containing the desire to take him in at once, and from having Noah playing with his head at your entrance in rotating movements. Little by little you relaxed and used your tongue to greet him and a smile formed on your lips when you saw him sigh once again.

Folio grabbed your hair with a little force and demonstrating that the provocation had made him lose his mind, he shoved his dick into your mouth at the same time as Noah entered you. Your screams were silenced by Folio's cock, you used your tongue to drool all over the compliment and without the help of your hands that were trapped you covered his head with the roof of your mouth. As you sucked him, you felt Noah bump his hips against yours in strong thrusts, pulling the collar from your neck each time he penetrated and stopped with his rigid member inside you.

Your legs shook from the force he used, you pressed him against the walls of your pussy and heard him mutter yet another curse due to the lack of space. Her head didn't stop for a single second, going down and up, sucking Folio's cock while he helped her with his hand in her hair.

With each of Noah's thrusts, you felt Folio's cock tear into your throat and you dedicated yourself to not leaving a single space without the contact of your tongue. He pressed your head down more and you enjoyed the taste of the skin trying to contain the entire volume. Noah grew harder and harder inside you and in an explosion of sensations for a few seconds your legs seemed to float.

This was the effect of the devil’s night.

It allowed you to fulfill even your darkest fantasy.

For one night.

[qvrcll]

I ALWAYS GIGGLE WHENEVER I READ PREGGY READER X LEON AND YOUR WRITING IS JUST *CHEFS KISS* . AND I JUST HAVE ONE IN MINDFFDDD

So it goes by Leon(i suggest the re4r, cuz he such a pookie😍) and the reader being in a long term relationship, however due to some reasons they broke up. A month later, they were partnered for a mission, and while they were on a mission, they were like so awkward. Not until the reader was slowing down and can't run that much which made leon a bit worried. And the thing is the reader doesn't even know that she's pregnant (OMGGG, IMAGINE THAT THEY ALREADY RESCUED ASHLEY, AND ASHLEY WAS THE ONE WHO TOLD HER THAT SHE MIGHT BE PREGNANT.)

(i need to reconnect with nature im going feral with leon)

wish i was good, wish that i could

summary: following leon’s absence, you fall into a damning pattern. a cycle of something worth nothing. and as you’re paired with him on a mission, everything professional is boiled into that broken, hurting night.

warnings: nsfw mentioned, mentions of vomit / throwing up, pregnancy, major angst / comfort, re4r!leon in mind

warnings: i really don’t know if i hate this or like it, because i was sort of burnt out but this turned out a whole lot angstier than i expected. but i hope u enjoy my dear!! :-]

It’s December when Leon leaves you for good, shatters what imminent ‘thing’ you had calibrated within each other’s sheets, messy and marked with pleasure against the weekend, with your bodies having memorised each scar, each virgule and stir that made your belly itch with that wonted release.

And yet, he tears the warmth of that — those late night, unlabelled presses in the name of a swift, empty sort of business that flushed into a thick-skinned, scary love — in the middle of the night. His boots are lined with some dirt, his jacket sheening with a stain he can’t bother to name, but his fingers are numb and burry with an odd feeling, something that comes and drifts within the crack of his touch, when his hand grips your front door.

And he’s so close.

So close to finding reprieve of this suffocating feeling scratching the vermillion, milky flesh that nested deep against his bones when you called in the night, when you played with the mess of blonde hairs on his head, when your touches meant more than just baseless acquittal.

So close to abandoning this itching feeling that he’s not the right body for you to hold — that he’s rotten and crushed to the bone. Ugly and ill-fit for you to love, not explore with slender fingers. And when your fingers prod against the flesh of his heart, he flinches. Realises, curses and escapes like he’s known best.

And yet, he pauses, clenches his jaw as the rub of your feet squeak against the wood of your apartment floor.

“Leon…?” your voice calls, nimble and picked apart by sleep. Something heavy, he presumes, because he’s counted your breaths, donned them in corollaries in the dead of night and attempted to forget them, mark them as dead on his skin in the same night — but he curses, laughs dryly against his own skin as his heart spikes in the vibrance of your laugh, knowing he’s cursed himself.

“It’s nothing… go back to bed,” he says, says your name later. The chill of him is fresh and unfamiliar, contrasting the heavy night you’d shared with fluctuating breaths and the collision of skin, hot and messy and unapologetic. And yet, he’s collected himself up on staggering bones, marked like chalk and a brittle little thing, as he turns to face you with something grim in his voice, “I need some time alone.”

“What?” there’s ten steps separating the two of you, and you hark any attempt to near him. He feels like he stings. Burns, with that gush of coldness about him.

Still, you need to ask.

“What is it?”

And your breath is bordering on frantic, as you squint, try to find him in the darkness. Try to draw him against your fingers, feel him against your skin and against the cartilage in your chest, deep-seated like a muscle you cannot renounce. But he’s slipping, cleaving against the meat of your chest as something evil, something entirely him in nature.

And it scares you.

“Leon—“

“Just—go to sleep,” he repeats, his tone firm. Some part of him regrets ever coming. Ever answering the frequent ring of your calls in the dead of night. Regrets, in his own mind, the swelter of your fingers against every bare inch of him there is to name. And yet, his body warms at the thought. Tenses, shrivels to nothing at all as he turns to the door.

“Leon, whatever you’re doing, stop,” your voice cracks, somewhere in the middle, parting against the choke that fights up your throat, “Please—just come back to bed.”

The tremble of your voice.

The blink in your step.

The shake in your all.

He notes it all. Commits it to memory. Shames himself for the beginning of it. Prevails it till the end.

His eyes are back on you — two searing beads of cobalt fleshing against you like something sour. Something bloody and bruised. Something spelling ‘penance’ in all the wrong letters.

“Good-night,” he says. Your name, he calls out. And he’s out of the door before you can fight against him to stop.

It’s several weeks after that you muster the courage to ring his line again — some part of you melts against the wooden counter, grips the pliable telephone like a vice in your clammy hands, your heart in your throat as you wait for his voice to smudge against the crackling rings.

And yet, he doesn’t pick up.

You’re hard on yourself for some time later — hard on the fact that you’d assuaged such a war on yourself to not notice his fleeting habituation, his warmth against the click of your knuckles on darkening days slipping into a filthy line of disillusionment as you return to your home. Empty, crawling with the smell of his noisome departure.

And on the other side of something familiar, Leon suffers all the same. That crawling, desperate feeling you’d implemented in him has scratched a dam him, bled him raw and filthy on the tile of his bathroom floor as he gathers the mess of himself with shaky hands. He glances at himself in the mirror, tries to determine just where the man he knew himself to he had lammed.

His ears ring.

His fingers flinch with the bite of his basin.

His eyes sink with a brutal feeling.

He misses you.

Weeks pass and you’re starting to forget the feel of him — the smell of his hair leaves you, the stretch of his smile now strange and off-putting. You mark it down to repulsion, to seething hatred, but you determine the lie in it.

You miss Leon like you miss anything, with the sheer strength of your dying love.

And it’s strange, you think, as you find yourself hunched against the toilet, releasing this morning’s breakfast with little restraint. The choke of it in your throat disgusts you, as the thought of Leon’s touch lingering in this bathroom does too, in frequencies of its own.

And you haven’t gotten half the heart to press the issue.

It’s a month without any form of contact and you’ve lost the smell of him, the touch of him. The thought of him comes as a bore, you fool yourself. The severity of his vision deep like an ocean you’d nearly killed yourself with remembering — and yet, on strange nights, you think of him. Think of the spit of his bones and muscles, of his kindness. Of his habit to mull things over till they were rotten and ugly beyond any chance of reprieve.

It’s a month without any strength in his bones, with which Leon carves a hole into the bed with his weight — he feels aimless, carding through the days with ill health. The alcohol cuts just enough for him, and the food he eats is takeaway. Foreign places, none of those familiar cuisines you would order late into the night.

The thought of it makes him sick.

Makes him choke with guilt and the thought of ‘what if?’

He goes to sleep a ghost against the sheets.

It’s some months when you ditch the self-sorry act in which you brand yourself over the days with — Hunnigan’s line rings once, twice and she picks up with a familiarity in her voice.

Ain’t that easy, you think bitterly.

It’s regular business — she greets you, debriefs you, informs you of the nights callings and of the days prior. Your leave from the enforcement has cost you a flitting pile of work and yet, Hunnigan finds it in herself to press the issue of your health first. She doesn’t know what’s happened between you and Leon, but she knows you. And she knows you in a sense that made the hurt burn like fresh skin, like a wound too bloody to heal.

“And… how are you?” she asks. You answer, something mandated. Something unconsciously revised by your system and yet, she rejects the bait, “How are you, really?

And you cry into the line. Fuel the crackle with the guise of your tears as you dry-heave. The spill of him seeps through your bones, drags memories apart that have longed their stay, that have bided to burn you for good.

And she listens.

She soothes.

She curses him out in the name of everything good, and a dry chuckle leaves you as the poke of everything familiar marks the undercurrents of everything new.

Leon is informed of the mission like it’s something to commit to the bit by. The days training are gruelling and he’s in for a bitter joke when the world is placed on his shoulders — maybe it could’ve been something humorous, but when Hunnigan mentions the word ‘partner,’ he freezes over.

“Partner?” he whispers into the line, baffled. Mulling the idea within his thickset fingers.

“Yes, partner. They will accompany you on your mission to save ‘Baby Eagle’ when the time is right,” Hunnigan replies, leaves no room for reply, “This is final. I’m sorry, Leon.”

He supposes he should be upset, but he’s just perturbed. The idea of a partner comes foreign to him and yet, his brain forces the outline of you against the thought of it. It presses your flesh against his teeth and the smell of your skin when it came to him in bits in pieces.

He feels you like he has for the first time.

He remembers you like he still has you.

He bites his tongue, resumes his activities because the flesh of you is not to keep — it’s just for him to think of when the night darkens into a cold fog too delirious to not think of much at all.

The wait is gruelling.

You’re sweat-marked, ill and pale around the cheeks as you exit the bathroom again. You cannot possibly fathom the prospect of food poisoning on a third-week round, and yet, you feel yourself regurgitating much of it. There’s an inclusion of odd combinations you try; pickles and chocolate, orange juice and noodles. It makes you wonder, makes you think.

And yet it never presses for longer than a moment — nothing to catalyse into concern.

It’s 8’oclock, and the chill of the night is a reminder of your mortality — your arm is caught on the couch arm and your legs are perched against the opposite part of it. Your television blurs with unfamiliar faces, flitting names and tones, and you’re struck with something familiar, deep-set in your bones like fury.

And in a second, you’ve dragged the land-line in your lap, typing his number like the way you breathe.

Tomorrow could very well be your last.

Could be nothing.

It could all go to shit and he wouldn’t know.

He’s got to know.

Your finger dials. You press the cold device to your ear.

You panic. Bite before you breathe. Shut it off and head to bed.

He doesn’t have to know.

You’re being briefed by Hunnigan when you think you’ve been struck dumb by lightning — everything crumbles to less than a resolve when she informs you that you’d be partnered with a fellow agent on the mission.

“Hunnigan, please,” you plead, beg past your teeth as you press the ear piece in closer. Try to determine whether or not she would swing in your favour; maybe botch the appropriate documents and have you work this mission to find Ashley Graham on your own. Maybe then, you’d find some moment of reprieve. Some time to keep the pieces to yourself and not dish it out to strangers in the name of small talk.

But Hunnigan is stone solid in her resolve, as she tracks her glasses higher against her face.

“I can’t change this — sorry. And, good-luck” she says. And her voice is foreign as it’s lost in the whirr of the transporting vehicle that reminds you of where you stand.

You think you go insane with the sight of him.

It all rushes in like a surge in a barge — his smell is intoxicating, metallic in a tinge that’s so upsetting it makes the bone hurt, makes it throb in something you deny wholly. His face is stoic, carded with indifference and yet, it is the one familiar thing in the car, two visionary pools that drown out the prior restriction you had held — perhaps, replaced it for the incredible awkwardness as you try to press yourself into the car door. Maybe even try to plummet out of the window itself, safe yourself the awful taste of his absence so clearly in the molten air.

“Long time no see” you say, your lips carving into something deliciously awkward. Sombre. He glances at you, eyes pinning all feeling against the flagstones you thought you’d destroyed with your own flesh and yet they persist. Persist as the ground he seems to so senselessly drag himself across — like a wounded thing, a creature of pity.

“It’s nice to see you,” he says, because what else does he do? Blink? Breathe? Because that is all he’s been crushing into the empty silence. To try to fill it with something he’s done so effortlessly and yet with you here, it’s manual. Run on baseless intuition that he forgets to live if he doesn’t live in you.

And yet…

The drive there is splendidly awkward, the walk into the church even moreso. You’re briefed every now and then, of pertinent belts on the map where the two of you float like two ghosts against unearthed land. He tracks mud on the floor, you carry blood on your clothes.

You both play your parts well; play it like he wasn’t the one living person to know you like the Earth knew the ocean. Like the sky knew nightfall.

But of course, with Leon, everything is cluttered. Messed into upheaval. Broken into something unsettled, of the past — het up like something that needed destroying and still, the feeling of want lingered in both of you like something to be mended.

It’s a blur when you two take a break — you’ve tracked Ashley and your hips are sore with the exertion of her escapade. You balance yourself against the wall, count your breaths as you try not to disembowel this morning’s contents against it.

Leon notices— he always does — and he comes forward with caution beneath his finger-tips, as he rubs the ball of your shoulder like you’d pounce.

“Is… everything okay?” he asks.

And as you turn to face him, you cough into your hands, swivelling around as tears meet your eye. The feeling scratches against your throat, like those harking nights spent against the tiled bathroom floors. Like those nights felt without the burn of his touch, just the chill of it instead — just the feel of your own bones sick of holding your bones in the place of him.

And you throw up against wall.

He calls your name, in worry, that much you catch in your sickness. The swelter of his touch is against your back, as he rubs it in according rhythms — something so domestic it made the feeling crawl right back into the back of your throat, stabbing the flesh like something cruel made with the press of him.

But he doesn’t relent. He cares for you like he loves you. Like he’s meant to hold you — you both fool yourselves into thinking he doesn’t.

It’s not quick business after that, as Ashley sits you atop crates and offers you water. Leon watches you with familiar, afraid eyes, as his gaze catches like something sharp intrudes his lungs again — it’s only when Ashley presses the idea of something delirious that you two snap out of it.

“Are you pregnant?” she asks. Her voice, nimble, probing and yet, it brings the crash of the world on your shoulders.

You had never seen anyone after Leon.

Only ever let him memorise the grooves against your skin.

Only ever let him in where there had been none before.

And as you meet his eyes, he looks back like he fears you’d disappear if he didn’t.

When the mission is concluded, briefed only a million times, Leon catches you on your scarper back home. In your mind, you’ve executed the plan of a pregnancy test and a mindless solemnity in your sheets, like a broken record. Something hard to break out of — but he breaks the intent of it. He interrupts it and places in a new itinerary.

“Hey, can we talk?”

You stagger against your feet as you look at him with a wounded expression, as if the request itself had done more insult to injury than most things left intimated. Left rotten and swelling at your doorstep the night he left.

“I don’t know, can we?” you bite back. Raise your shoulders. Play the part of the heretic. Hear the voice mocking you.

Idiot. You need this. You need him.

“Please — I’ve been thinking of… you, of us. Of what Ashley said, back then,” his voice starts, breaks, reminds you, “and I regret it.”

“Regret what?”

Your question comes blunt — unintentional. But harboured with something necessary.

“Regret leaving.”

Your heart is in your throat. Your legs throb with an ache. Your body looms with the threat of a dry-heave, but you keep standing. Withstand the blow of his admission.

“Why? Why did you leave?”

Your reply leaves him aimless — bloody, battered and naked for you to see the flesh underneath. If you picked apart the useless, flimsy thing left for display, you’d assimilate his hurt. His fear in loving you, fully, with feeling and the press of destiny like he had dreamt of because if you lost you in the trail of it, he’d lose it all.

“I left… because—because I was scared. Scared of loving you. Scared of losing you.”

“Who said you’re losing me?”

“I don’t — I don’t know. It was stupid. I’m sorry. I’m—sorry.”

He stalks forward, his fears against his feet as he promises yet again. He tracks blood on his back. You track dirt against your feet. You play the part well, of the injured. Of the battered and beaten and of the tender.

You play the part well.

“I’m sorry.”

Of you.

“It’s okay, Leon.”

Of the body you’ve missed to be yours.

“It’s okay.”

And as he crowds your arms, fills it with feeling and the thought of him again, something bleeding in your arms like peace again, here, promising you company across the horizon, a feeling of surety comes.

It comes.

© 2023 qvrcll ! do not repost any of my works on any platform.

[ludinusdaleth]

bouncing off of this wonderful post mentioning how zathuda expects to be the main character because he would be in many current stories, as well as my own thoughts about fearne & her family ive had for a while: i think it is interesting how fearne is representative of the different ways folk portray fae in modern media.

first off, id like to note how many fae in cr feel like they are an homage to fae stories embedded in our cultural consciousness. for example, artagan was most definitely based off of jareth in labyrinth, and his moniker of the traveler may be an homage to the fable of the satyr & the traveller. so, what is fearne?

one of the first 4-sided dives featured ashley & matt discussing how they based fearne's story off of a guillermo del toro flick - and this definitely clicked to me. morrigan, ira, & all her bizarre animal friends at morri's mansion would fit so easily into a del toro film you wouldn't even blink at them. in del toro's work (namely pan's labyrinth & hellboy 2: the golden army) faeries are fundamentally strange, offputting, & wonderfully weird. they are goblins with wagons as legs, and trolls with talking tumors, and terrifyingly skinny entities with eyes in their hands that eat children. you can practically see doug jones in an intricate suit & makeup to play ira like he did the pale man or the faun (i swear matt's hand usage as ira is an homage to jones's iconic hands in costume), see the puppet of morrigan that weighs over a ton controlled by five folk at once. del toro's work as well as matt & ashley's plays into a fae that is more complicated than a human imagines at face value, something you must work to imagine & understand (& create). something playful, integrally bound to oaths, ancient, mischievous. it is happy & natural to be gross & incomprehensible and that is part of what makes these films (as well as other bizarre puppeteered dreamscapes like the dark crystal, labyrinth) almost comforting even when sad. pan's labyrinth also features a young girl as a protagonist, ofelia, who sees these creatures as respite & destiny, who is a fae princess amidst mortal war. fearne couldn't be more ofelia if she tried. (side note - god does the scene of the pale man eating the pixies in front of ofelia feel like fearne learning what lud does to her people. someone even made a meme of it.)

on the other hand, zathuda & birdie's story is obviously based on a fae romance novel that populates shelves today - sarah j maas's or holly black's work comes to mind. zathuda is (or was - he seems a ghost of it) clearly a looker, a fierce & sexy hunter, a handsome & strong unseelie royal who somehow takes in & courts a random nobody girl, birdie. but cr notably frames the love story narrative as a classist manipulation, that leaves birdie running for the rest of her life, falling for a weirdo nobody like her over zathuda, and leaves fearne without parents that would show her this incredibly popular kind of romance as an answer. she cannot fall back on a family of kisses drawing blood, of hunter & hunted as a beautiful meet-cute, of a throne & power. she can only fall back on the strange, the grotesque, the raw. they are ugly compared to a promise of a masquerade ball or leading a wild hunt, what folk expect of fae in a barnes & noble book haul - but they promise a safety in the outcast. because a guillermo del toro film will always fundamentally be about the human condition. "monsters are the patron saints of our blissful imperfections." every monster in his stories is a person as much as you or me is.

fearne was born of a fae romance novel but raised in a puppeteer-and-vfx fairytale film. she holds not only exandria's fate in her hands, but the feywild's, too. fae see themselves as higher beings while squabbling in courts as much as mortals do. they refuse to accept their chaos and try to maintain order & royalty with courts and bloodlines against each other. try to keep fae out of exandria because they cant know they are alike to their mortal counterparts. they cant be wild like a party of puppets at the end of labyrinth dancing with the human girl sarah. they wish to be as mysterious as if they lived in a ya dystopia. and it is clearly leaving them worse. fearne is the literal unity of all the ways fae are potrayed in a modern landscape. what will that mean for her and her home in the end?

[coff-in]

Can I request a headcanon of Andrew and Ashley x doting and kind older sister reader? how would they affect Andrew and Ashley's dynamic? would they cling onto her and heavily depend on her?

This is my first time requesting anything on Tumblr ever so I'm sorry if it's not detailed enough! 😊

note from coff-in: thank you so much for requesting! i hope this was to your liking... looking back at it now i wish i added more of andrew's and ashley's thoughts and feelings about the [reader] in here. i also tried by best to keep their relationship platonic/neutral, just in case you didn't want to read about any incest. if incest's what you want, though, let me know through another ask or a comment in the notes! i'm always willing to oblige!

[fem] reader-insert, [reader] is older than andrew by about 2 years

I'll be the shade to protect you from the sun's harsh rays.

Big sis [reader] Graves would most likely struggle with caring for her younger siblings, Andy and Leyley. She loves her siblings, of course, but it is a struggle being the parent for them.

She’d read stories to them and draw with them and do her best to take care of them. Things that their mother should be doing with them… but oh well.

I think a big sis [reader] would probably try to encourage Andy and Leyley to be more independent from her and also each other. It might've worked on Andy but Leyley would still be very clingy to her siblings.

Speaking of a clingy Leyley, she would probably not be as clingy towards Andy since she has her big sister [reader]; who’s always kind and sweet and attentive to her! She and Andy are her best friends! She doesn’t need anyone else… and they don’t need anyone else but her either.

So yeah… Nina still dies. It would still happen initially between Andy and Leyley but big sis [reader] would have found out and panicked. She helps Andy and Leyley bury the body in the park (or wherever they buried her) and they still make the blood pact, although it’s a little different.

Ashley doesn’t tell a soul what happened that day, Andy doesn’t look at anyone else but her and their big sister [reader], and [reader] pretends that she didn’t hear her little siblings kill and hide a dead girl. Speak no evil, see no evil, hear no evil!

As they get older big sis [reader] does her best to financially support her siblings. Most of the money she gets from any job she works goes to her siblings to get them gifts and treats. She tries her best to celebrate both Andy and Leyley’s birthdays… even if Leyley’s birthday wishes are concerning to her.

Big sis [reader] may be more of a doormat and pushover than Andrew is. She loves her siblings and would probably delude herself to some extent that Andrew’s touchiness and overprotectiveness of his sisters are normal. Just like him sleeping in their beds after having a nightmare is normal…

Ashley being rude to other girls and boys is also normal! She’s just not used to having other friends so maybe she’s being rude as some form of anxiety… and her constantly requiring attention from her big siblings is fine, she’s their baby sister after all!

She stays with Ashley after Andrew goes off to college. Big sis [reader] would’ve gone to college herself but couldn’t bear to leave her little siblings at home with their not-so-great parents. She saved up her money to help pay for Andrew’s tuition and classes.

Once the Graves siblings end up in quarantine, big sis [reader] mostly just kind of vibes with her siblings. I mean, they’re with each other 24/7 now so she’s able to give her undivided attention towards them. Andrew and Ashley revel in this of course.

I can see big sis [reader] eating smaller portions of meals so that her little siblings can have more food for later because that’s the kind of thing a kind big sister does! Andrew and Ashley notice this. Their wonder big sister is starving herself for them! It makes their hearts ache to see her do this…

… so when they kill the cultist and prepare him for a tasty meal, it’s obvious to them that their big sister [reader] gets the first bite!

I’m kinda running out of steam for this sort of neutral look because you can take this scenario down so many different paths! Maybe their relationship could be one-sided; as Andrew and Ashley start growing up they start seeing all of big sis [reader]’s kind gestures and doting in a more romantic light, but to [reader] Andy and Leyley will always be her little siblings.

Maybe Andrew could use big sis [reader] as a sort of weapon against Ashley during the Decay route? Who knows? I currently haven’t thought about a Decay route like that too much, but it is a neat idea to think and fantasize about.

----

coff-in