#christ i need to yap less

[monochromemoomin]

jamie doesn’t like mushrooms :(

[emmcfrxst]

I’m wondering how Laura would react if reader and OldMan!Logan got into a fight? Maybe they tried to keep it away from her but unfortunately the girls too much like her father and ends up hearing most of it.

Ugh and imagine if she saw Logan storming off not realizing that he left you in tears…

(I’m feeling extremely angsty tonight.)

TW: MENTIONS OF DEATH, TRAUMA, ILLNESS, UNHEALTHY COPING MECHANISMS, SUICIDAL IDEATIONS & GOD (I guess????) Set before Logan gets, as nonnie put it, chest-fucked, so during the period of time everyone’s trying to escape the fucking Reavers while figuring shit out. It got too long so it’s under the cut

You don’t argue that often with Logan— your relationship is solid and although communication was rocky at first, he’s made significant progress and is able to hold a serious conversation without immediately jumping back into his defense mechanisms (misguided anger, deflection and ultimately fleeing were his initial reactions when you tried establishing proper communication about feelings in the beginning). His progress, however, is rendered completely useless when the conversation is about his rapidly declining health; he’s immediately on the defensive, body going rigid and eyes going dark, jaw clenched so hard you’re afraid he might shatter it— he hates thinking about his newfound mortality, not necessarily because he’s afraid of death (it’s actually quite the opposite, he seeks death in a way, longing for the pain and the nightmares to just stop once and for all) but because he knows that dying means leaving you on your own and that’s something he can’t bear to think about�� the guilt he feels at the thought of leaving you is immeasurable; it overwhelms him entirely because he knows that losing him would break you and it makes him feel physically ill to think about the consequences. So in true Logan fashion, he blows you off whenever you bring up your concerns, stating that he’s fine, and the anger he feels at himself and his body for failing him ends up being taken out on you through biting words he regrets as soon as they slip from his tongue.

“I’m the one who’s fuckin’ dying, for Christ’s sake, quit your fuckin’ yapping.” It’s a phrase he regrets uttering for multiple reasons: he hates being rude to you in any way, shape or form because you’re the last person who deserves to be subjected to his emotional constipation— you’ve taken all of his broken parts into your hands and pieced them back together with your unconditional love and unwavering patience, you’ve made him feel loved, you’ve made him feel alive, and most importantly, you’ve shown him that he doesn’t have to feel guilty or bitter about his existence. You’ve done so much for him throughout the years and he fucking hates himself for letting his emotions get the better of him like that. The other thing that bothers him deeply about his reaction is the verbal acknowledgment of his condition; it’s something that he somehow believes can be ignored, as if denying it could make it any less real. Acknowledging that he’s dying makes bile rise up his throat— it’s a bitter feeling, really, because he used to wish for death everyday before he met you, heart and mind torn to shreds from years of horrific abuse and unwavering violence; he even prayed to whatever God was out there, despite not being a believer, to just let him go, to free him of the chains of trauma that bound his psyche. His prayers were left unanswered, Logan only accumulating more trauma as the years went by— he can’t count how many times he’s cursed God for making him go through what he’s gone through, needing someone to blame and wishing for a way to end it all. Ironically, Logan’s immortality only seems to waver once he starts treasuring life; it feels like a stab in the back, a cruel joke orchestrated by God who finally decided to answer his prayers now that he wishes he could take them back. The feeling of betrayal only seems to further fuel Logan’s anger towards his illness, which, combined with the guilt he feels at the thought of leaving you alone, causes him to act out whenever you bring up the subject. You take offense in the words thrown at you, hurt by the reminder of his impending death and the way he navigates it, arguing back that you do this because you care about him, for fuck’s sake. Unfortunately, that only seems to make things worse, upsetting Logan further and bringing back years’ worth of feeling unworthy of your affections.

“That’s your fuckin’ problem bub. I told ya you shouldn’t waste your time with a man like me.” he physically winces as he utters those words, wishing he could unsee the way it makes your entire face crumble with despair— it’s a slap in the face, really, to be brought back to square one and have him reject you in this way. Logan flees before either of you can say anything else, slamming the front door behind him and walking in no particular direction until he feels like he can finally breathe again, leaving you in tears at home. Laura, although playing in her makeshift room at the time, hears the whole exchange as clear as day due to her enhanced senses, her fists clenching with rage when her ears pick up the sound of your stifled sobs. You feel her before you even hear her, your body tensing as a pair of small, skinny arms wrap around your middle, a head resting along your spine. After the initial alarm of feeling someone touching you, you can’t help but let out a watery laugh at just how easy it seemed for her to surprise you, turning around in Laura’s arms so you can look down at her. A frown is etched onto her features, lips puckered into an angry pout as she hugs you tighter, insulting Logan in spanish under her breath. It makes you laugh again, this time softly, your hand smoothing out her hair as you sniffle.

“I’m okay, Laura. I’m okay.” she glares up at you, unconvinced, giving you another squeeze and reluctantly allowing her features to relax when you gently run a fingertip across the furrow of her brows— despite not being together for long, you find that you’re able to soothe Laura quite easily; there is a connection between the two of you like you’ve never felt before, a bond that you feel like you were always destined to have. Your heart warms at the obvious way the child seems to care for you, wanting nothing more than to make all of her worries disappear.

“He made you cry.” her voice is so quiet that you almost miss it, a soft, indignant noise leaving her at the sight of your tear-stained cheeks. You sniffle again, free hand moving up to wipe at your eyes, the other caressing her hair lovingly.

“I know.” you don’t say that it’s okay because it’s not— Logan crossed a line that you thought had been worn down ages ago, and you’ll be damned before you ever teach Laura that hurtful words can be brushed aside so easily without an apology. It’s for her as much as for you; you’re aware that you deserve respect even when Logan is upset, and you’re not about to stomp down on your self-worth to coddle him when he’s done something wrong. He’ll apologize, you’re sure of it, but until that happens, you’re not going to pretend that his reaction was acceptable. It’s something you categorically refuse to do, and it’s one of the many reasons Logan fell in love with you in the first place. You know your worth.

“I’ll be okay soon.” you tell her honestly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head. She studies you for a moment longer before nodding her head, allowing you to lead her onto the couch where she curls up next to you.

You’re asleep by the time Logan starts walking back towards the house but Laura hears the crunching of sand and gravel under his shoes, quietly untangling herself from you and moving to the side of the door, frown back on her features. Logan barely has the time to pass the threshold before she’s on him, jumping onto his back like a feral animal and punching his shoulders repeatedly, growling when he grabs her and holds her still, visibly confused and irritated by her behavior.

“Don’t even think about it.” he warns her when she makes to bite the hand that holds her down, frowning down at her just as hard she does up to him. She struggles in his hold, trying to hit him again, making him grunt in pain.

“You made her cry, coño.” the words make Logan freeze in his tracks, eyes falling on your sleeping form on the couch, noting the way your eyes look reddened and the tear tracks on your cheeks. Nausea immediately strikes him like lightning, the expression on his face seeming to satisfy Laura as she stops struggling, frown still evident on her face. She sits up and watches silently once he lets her go, staying nearby to see the situation unfold.

You awake to a calloused hand gently running over the plane of your cheekbone, eyes opening to meet Logan’s remorseful ones. He’s sitting on the ground next to the couch, looming over you in a way that makes you feel safe like no one else ever could.

“Hey.” his voice is hoarse but soft, thumb swiping back and forth over your skin in a silent act of comfort. It makes you smile despite your grogginess, and you feel more than you hear Logan releasing a soft, relieved inhale through his nose.

“Hey.” you answer him just as softly, leaning into his touch and closing your eyes again, content to feel him again.

“I’m sorry.” the words sound heavy coming out of his mouth, a grim expression taking over his features as he wipes off the remnants of your earlier tears.

“I know.” you reply simply, turning your head to press a gentle kiss against the roughened palm of his hand. It makes him exhale shakily, shoulders squaring as he prepares himself for the discomfort of the following words.

“Didn’t mean to snap at you, baby. I just… I feel helpless, I guess, and it fuckin’ pisses me off. Never had to worry about dying and leaving you alone before.” he says the words slowly, trying to make the last sentence sound like a joke, tone falling flat. You can tell he’s uncomfortable with the discussion but he pushes through, causing you to feel a rush of sympathy— he’s trying, you know he’s trying, and that means something to you.

“I know. I feel helpless, too. But you have to remember that you’re not alone. Not anymore. And I’m not going anywhere. No matter what happens, it’s you and me until the end.” he laughs wetly at your words, nodding his head and swallowing thickly before speaking again.

“I know.” this time it’s his turn to provide reassurance, the two little words more than enough for the both of you. The feeling of his warm lips connecting with your forehead makes your eyes flutter shut, hand coming up to lay over the one he’s curled around the back of your neck.

“Kid’s kicked my ass for making you cry.” he mumbles against your skin, the amusement in his voice clear. It makes you snort in surprise, unaware that Laura had intervened before you woke up.

“Did she? Well, you kinda deserved it.” your answer is playful, tone devoid of its previous heaviness, your eyes meeting Laura’s over Logan’s shoulder for a brief moment before focusing on your lover once again.

“That I did.” he agrees simply, a soft, tender, apologetic smile on his face. You lean further into him when he kisses your nose, heart feeling lighter than it had in a while.

You were going to be okay.

[luvvrz]

The Odyssey Fucks Hard [Poolverine, 18+]

AKA: how the movie woulda went if I was at the table

Additional tags: ermmmm very gay 🤭 pain kink most def, lacks foreplay just right into the nasty, also a slight bit of degradation but not much

OTHER WORKS

He's fucking grinning. Logan doesn't know why, there's blood in his teeth and a blade in his fucking abdomen, but he's grinning. Maybe he likes it when prey fights back? Or, better yet, maybe he likes it when someone can keep up.

Wade's still talking - when is he fucking not? You'd think in some bad ass fight scene like this one, the motherfucker would attempt to indulge. You know, less yapping and more punching. Then again, the man wouldn't be able to shut his goddamn mouth if it literally sewn shut. Sources? I won't elaborate.

Nonetheless, Logan's on top of him, and he's got a set of claws tucked neatly into his side. Wade arches up with a hiss, and they're pressed together, and *Christ*, the man's all muscle. Surely it's to be expected, but Logan doesn't enjoy using his brain often. It's not that he's stupid, he just... doesn't care enough to think. Neither does Wade, clearly, his next strained words a testament to that.

"No cup? I mean, you're prehistoric, so I know there's probably not a lot of swimmers left, but it's the principle, you know?"

Logan growls, fangs bared as his other hand swipes up to promptly wrap around the other's throat. He squeezes with a vegence, eyes narrowed and face twisted up in a bitter fury.

"Shut the fuck up. You haven't shut your mouth for one goddamn second since you showed up."

This prompts Wade to smirk, a sight hidden beneath the mask, but the way the eyes of it crinkle up is more than enough proof. Logan hates him. Logan doesn't think he could possibly hate anyone- or anything, more.

"Ooh, fiesty. Watch it, Wolvie, I'm into degradation. At least take me to dinner, first."

Logan snarls, grabbing a fistful of Wade's mask to yank his head to the side, slamming it into the nearest window. The man groans, a sound that Logan all-too happily chooses to relish in. They're still pressed together, chest to chest and hip to hip, and- holy fuck, is he genuinely twitching beneath me?

The anger on his face gives way to shock, if only for a moment, before that ever-present scowl is returning with a vengeance. Alas, he is a man, a man who is in constant denial of enjoying things simply because he doesn't believe he deserves it. Still, that doesn't stop his own dick from twitching weakly in interest, making Wade's head shoot up.

God dammit, he could practically hear the amusement in his voice.

"Is that a claw, or are you just happy to see me?"

He doesn't even have time to finish his sentence before Logan's claws are embedding themselves deeper into his side, as much of a promise as it is a warning. Wade's head falls back with a throaty groan. He is getting off to this, the kinky son of a bitch.

Still, no one addressed the elephant in the room, both figuratively and literally. Sure, it's been brought up, but the real question is, what is going to be done about it?

Wade's still talking a mile a minute, and Logan's sanity is slipping through his fingers.

"Calm down, baby girl, no need to blow a fuse. Sex is a perfectly normal thing that happens when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much, there's nothing to be ashamed about-"

You'd think a man that was almost 200 wouldn't have the kind of speed Logan does, but then again, Logan is not your average man. He's ripping Wade's mask up with a quickness even light itself would envy, meeting his lips in something of a kiss. Sure, it's all teeth and tongue, and he's growling like a pissed off bitch in heat, but... it's a kiss, as far as Wade's concerned!

As far as Logan's thought process goes, though, he just wanted quiet in the peanut gallery.

For the first time in this history of Marvel Universe, Wade Wilson is quiet. The air itself is silent, waiting on a baited breath to see what happens next - only broken by Logan's growling.

Logan doesn't break the kiss, not even as he begins to undress the man beneath him. The Wolverine is a man of many things, but patience is not a virtue he possesses, nor particularly cares for. A single claw extends to cut Wade's suit off him, resulting in a whine of pure despair.

"Hey, I was fondled like a French girl for that goddamn suit! Careful with the merchandise."

Logan cuts off his yapping with a particularly rough nip to the lip, sending the welcome taste of copper spreading over his parched tongue. The claws are on his own suit now, and for a moment, he's tempted to look for the zipper just to spite the other - but then again, his dick's throbbing and he'd honestly rather skip the formalities.

Unceremoniously, the suit is cut away, and soon enough, the pair are pressed closer together than pussy lips in a g-string. Wade's scars extend far below the collar, Logan's come to realize, and he retracts his claws only to temporarily ghost his fingertips along the divets in his skin. The gentleness doesn't last for long, though - as soon as he finds the hem of Wade's boxers, those, too, are being torn away.

Wade fucking giggles, twirling a strand of non existent hair as his other hand comes to cover his dick - not that it mattered much. If Wade Wilson had anything to be proud of, it was his fucking cock. His hand didn't leave much to the imagination.

"Careful, shnookums, I'm shy."

Now, a better man would've maybe indulged in some foreplay, maybe even prep. But Wade's a big boy, he can take it. Plus, maybe the stretch will give that mouth something else to focus on besides being the most insufferable being on the planet.

And so, Logan rather unceremoniously spits into his palm, before stroking himself. One pump, two pump, three, before he's deemed himself ready. He knocks Wade's hand away, before thinking better of it, and uses his own free hand to grab both his wrists and pin them above his head. The resulting smirk is instantaneous, and Logan can fucking see the gears in his head turning, preparing for another snippy remark.

Logan decides that he simply won't give him the chance.

His hips are pushing forward, brutal and impatient, and the initial stretch has them both gasping like a fish out of water. His grip on Wade's wrists tighten, bushy eyebrows furrowing as his mouth parts in a silent groan. His eyes flutter closed as he tries to focus on anything other than how freakishly tight Wade's ass is.

And Wade, he isn't much better off. If Deadpool is anything, it's a goddamn pain slut, and the sudden burn has stars exploding behind scarred eyelids. It's a strained grunt, more akin to a whimper, and his cock jumps angrily against his belly.

For once, the Merc with a Mouth has nothing to say - and not because he didn't want to, but because he can't.

There's something triumphant in Logan's eyes at that, a selfish sort of victory. A cruel, condescending smirk as he leans closer, tilting his head minutely. The pace he's settled into, it's rough, punishing, and Wade's brain simply isn't working as quickly as his mouth. The man's attempting to babble, but all he can muster is a few broken whines, and a guttural 'Jesus fucking Christ.'

"If I knew that cock was all it took to get that fuckin' mouth o' yers' quiet, I would've stuffed this fuckin' hole hours ago."

The Odssey fucks hard, Wade reckons, but Wolverine fucks harder.

[bonnieura]

every time i hear a freaky grandma nitpick JFK's weight after 1960 an angel loses its wings and god kills a kitten. I cant ever understand why they [american public] are so fixated with his appearance and especially his weight. It just screams fatphobia. literally no one is dying if he gained a few pounds . its not ww3. The way its said is always just so condescending and backhanded? putting his early life his illnesses his medications and his plenty near-death experiences into consideration i am damn glad he managed to be even if only a little, HEALTHY . something he literally never got the chance to say about himself

you can say that it's a given considering his whole campaign strategy was built around his *youth* and looks in general but that does not take away from the RUTHLESSNESS i see from people when his weight is the subject of matter. and thats from today in *2024* like jesus christ imagine how it was in the 60s 😭

you can say that the "reason he put on weight" (as if it even needs a reason, he wasnt overweight or anything at all) was to look less boyish and more like formidable or something for the elections. he already had to deal with criticism on being too young for the presidency. And all of that isnt something to be ashamed or remorseful of at all either?? I genuinely dont get why so many to this day just outright degrade him for it. as if a middle aged man not being borderline underweight is satan's incarnate.

speaking of underweight, he was the aforementioned for YEARS during his service in the senate and the house. having just returned from ww2 with near fatal injuries he was clearly ill and malnourished. And yet i still see people romanticize it as if its something commendable. You can commend him pulling through and getting his health together even if just barely, not whatever people glorify of his illness

If you read a little back you can see i mentioned his early life. well yeah thats cause his parents single handedly almost gave him and his siblings [tw] || eating disorders || [unfortunately i wouldnt be surprised if he had one] from disturbingly young ages . Im certain that it did a number on him and stuck to some degree. So I am damn glad he was able to break out of it [or at least look like he did , i cant tell you whether he did manage to break out or not considering he was hypervigilant on his appearance till the day he hit the grave atp

plus im pretty sure some of his medicine consisted of cortisone [known for puffing up the face and leading the patient to gain weight]. I hate how hyperfixated people are with his weight and body. yeah no damn wonder he was so worried 24/7 and love or hate the man literally no one should have to go through that. theres so much more i wanna say rn but im tired of yapping

[judging-will-wood-confessions]

I don't think people talk about or listen to 'Becoming the Lastnames' enough. When I first properly listened to ICIMI, I was never told about this masterpiece nor have I even heard of it. 'Wow, it has amazing instrumentals,' I thought. 'This song is great already.'

Don't get me wrong, it's anything but a bad song. I just thought it'd be good in the overall vibes or the message, nothing more, nothing less. But looking at Against the Kitchen Floor, Euthanasia, many of the other songs in this album— we know where this is going.

At the line 'Imagine me, just like my parents... Yeah right!' I was already sobbing. I know the song had a different interpretation in mind when Will made it, but from my first listen and my very personalized interpretations, it hit way too deep. It felt like this song was narrating me as a camera looked through the other side of the mirror. I did not expect it to be so emotional, nor so personal. It felt like a sucker punch!

Fortunately, I'm a musical masochist.

TLDR: 'Becoming the Lastnames' is too underrated. I love it. It made me cry uncontrollably. You should listen to it.

Also sorry for the whole essay! Jesus Christ, I just wanted to yap about how good this song is!

Music Masochist is a phrase I never thought I'd hear

[lpsgirl109]

Start yapping about your lastest hyperfixaction Queen‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️🔥🔥🔥🔥🗣️🗣️🗣️🔊🔊🔊🔊🔊

and ANOTHER thing about sm:mm is the way Phin and Miles's conflict is treated as a black and white situation, where there can only be one in the right and one in the wrong. There is no middle ground, which is bullshit because there absolutely should be a middle ground.

The arguments in defense of Miles is that Phin is a hypocrite and a heartless asshole. She certainly must not care about Miles at all to be doing what she's doing and not even tell him Rick died. She has no right to be upset at him, she's just being whiny. To that I say: If my friend said he wanted to help my cause and then I find out he just wanted to get information out of me, I'd be pissed the fuck off. From her perspective, it probably seems like Miles wasnt even planning on helping her, he just wanted to spy on the Underground. Yes she's being hypocritical acting like he's so horrible for keeping secrets when she was doing the same thing. However, and I am looking at this from a narrative standpoint, her acting that way isn't a problem. The problem is this never gets called out, not by Miles or really the narrative itself. It's sort of a pattern that the story gives Phin character flaws that never get challenged. Also, and know that I understand why Miles did what he did, but I'm sure there were several other ways to stop Phin than going behind her back. Aaron literally phrases it as "using her" for christ's sake. Again, from Phin's perspective, it's understandable that she'd assume he lied about wanting to help her. She has every right to be upset about that, and her keeping secrets from him doesn't negate that. Also just throwing this out there that Phin has no obligation to tell Miles or anyone that Rick is dead. That's really only her business and I don't know why people act like Miles has a right to know and she's awful for not telling him. I'd get it if Rick and Miles were really close but we're never really shown that in the game. Have you considered, she didn't tell Miles about Rick's death or ask him to help her straight up because it could potentially put his life in danger?

The arguments in defense of Phin is that Miles made no effort to hear her out, he should've jumped on board the second he found out what Roxxon was up to, and he's an awful friend for not supporting Phin. To that I say: I don't think I need to explain while Miles absolutely should not have tried to join her. The Underground is a terrorist group, as much as I hate that they are a terrorist group, they are a terrorist group. They are attacking FEAST trucks and hacking aircrafts to shoot at the city and are only working for Phin because she's supplying them with weapons. In no world would Miles ever work with these people. This would be more understandable if the Underground's only goal was taking down Roxxon like I rewrite them as, but this is blatantly not the case in the game. It doesn't matter how correct Phin's motives are, her team attacks innocent people just for shits and giggles. This is not something Miles would ever in a million years be apart of. It's also worth noting that he absolutely wanted to help her stop Roxxon?? Just not in the way she was going about it, which. Valid. Her team is getting into shoot outs in the streets and their plan involves blowing up a fucking building. He wants to stop Roxxon, just in a way that'll involve a lot less people dying

The correct answer: they both fucked up. They both hid things from each other. Miles lied to her to get info from the Underground, Phin treated Miles kinda unfairly for it. Neither of them handled this correctly. Let's all hold hands now

[blackberry-command-cap]

intro (as of October 2024) :||

Pertinent information about me:

Call me Blackberry <3

She/her, turning 18 in one month

Improving from what is probably burnout and also mild depression

I doodle a lot. Sometimes I draw comics. I don't do fancy art or writing bc it takes too much patience. I take a lot of screenshots of my SWTOR babies :D besides that I mainly just appreciate other people's (very cool) stuff

Currently obsessed with Star Wars, more specifically the Sequel trilogy and SWTOR, more specifically Armitage Hux (tagged #i need a hux tag) and a handful of OCs (more on them on my character page).

I'm Christian and a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Posts related to that are tagged #spiritual stuff or #church stuff.

Newish to Tumblr and online social etiquette so if I come off as weird it's probably because I don't know the social rules 😅

I like to talk about my interests but don't want to bore ppl so if you want to hear more about something feel free to ask! Interactions and asks always welcome (plz talk to me)

Less pertinent information about me:

I like to play D&D and Mario Kart

I used to read a ridiculous amount when I was younger and now I have a complicated relationship with several YA series, especially Twilight (which I am happy to yap about if prompted)

Mumbo Jumbo from Hermitcraft is my spirit animal (though I haven't watched him in years)

I am an ambiverted ENTP-T coming to terms with my Rebel tendency (from the Four Tendencies book, highly recommend)

My brain is really good at math and really really bad at writing (also bad at social stuff. not really a good deal tbf I want my money back)

I like suits and I hate wearing skirts

I am a morning person (my ideal sleep schedule is roughly 8 pm to 4 am - we're trying to get there but it's hard)

Tagging is pretty disorganized but I try :/

Me talking: #bb thoughts, #bb thinkings, #bb complains etc.

#i need a hux tag - the man himself 🤭🤭 I can't asd;fkjasldfj\

#oc: worst sith ever (+anxiety) - my current favorite SWTOR blorbo <3

other Character tags are on my character page

#my doodles, #real life stuff - self explanatory

#church stuff - posts related to my church's culture or doctrine, or generally organized religion

#spiritual stuff - posts not specifically about organized religion but still religious in nature

#cool art 👍🏼 - art that strikes me or has a particularly good vibe (because it's pretty)

#lore and analysis - any post where someone has typed out their thoughts, headcanons, explanations, whatever in a big block of text

[urethrafun1]

Intro because I need to make people aware of my interests NOW

Only DNI is people who draw trans boys with super hyperfeminine traits. I’ll block you if I find out you’re a weirdo so interact if you want and I’ll just have one less creep to worry about

My name is Scott and I am a boy a bbooooy and I kiss booooyyyyss (one boy) also my pronouns are HE/HIM ONLY

I like to draw and listen to music (shocker) + listening to & watching Chris Chan: A Comprehensive History

I LOVE RANFREN!!!! (Sorry to let you guys down..) I’ve made myself quite a few Ranfren themed things so just ask about them if you want me to show :3 (Actually, one dni. Sebastian and Randal shippers and Ivorycest shippers. Don’t think you’re safe because I like Ranfren too.)

I LOVE Christory (Liquid Chris, Alec Benson Leery/Asperchu, and Clyde Cash are my top 3 trolls [In that order]) and if you ask me about it I could yap for hours.

I LOVE SCOTT PILGRIM!!!! I’ve read all the books seen the movie and watched the show and I have figures (the minifigures too) and played the game Jesus Christ I’m a super fan

I like Cry of Fear. (stolen from my sweet boyfriend) I’ve played it 3 times but when I moved computers I lost all my data lol so now I’m on first run.

I like Postal. (Also stolen from him. He is a super fan and I love it sm hehe) I’ve played half of Postal, all of Postal 2 and Paradise Lost, about a quarter of Postal 4 so far lol.

I LOVE Splatoon+Splatbands. (Favorites are Disspair and Squid Squad. [I can’t fucking handle overfeminized Warabi with big hips and boobs sorry but…not. At all. Get off my page if you’re one of those bitches because I WILL be mean lol.]) I haven’t posted Ikkan and Warabi in a while but I’ll try to ASAP. Or I can just make a separate blog for Splatoon stuff if you guys want. I’ve played both Splat2 and Splat3’s story modes and online battles. (Including Octo expansion)

I LOVE 12RODS. (Favorite song is Red and my favorite album is Bliss) Funfact I was in top 0.005 last year.

I liVE Madoka Magica. I’ve only watched the series so far but I’m binging the movies. I have…..a self insert but that’s dumb.

I LOVE angels but I’m not gonna yap too much about that.

-You can commission me ig if you like my artstyle but I won’t charge you (examples of art below)

-Questions r always open

-Sorry for edgy posts in advance

[leighcest]

this fic has such a special place in my heart, as it was my first of vivi’s fics and the first time i interacted with my most lovely mutual! sooo i decided to break this down a little and maybe add something of my own… mwahaha. anyways i did this instead of my english homework so enjoy.

ok! let's get into it! lots of yapping under the cut!

“maybe there's more to your fashion choices than what he considers a faux pas.” this line was literally the reason i clicked on this lovely, lovely fanfiction.

“I’m not drunk. I’m just…” you sulk. You would have sold the act too if it wasn’t for a sleepy jerk of your head. You always get sleepy when you’re, “...tipsy.”  Ah, there it is.

UGH THIS LINE. violet when i find you!!!!! ugh. your writing is so. fucking. lovely. it’s just a lovely line and actually has inspired a line in me, you and coffee!

Watch for abnormal movement in your fingers. You start fluttering them like you’re Tinkerbell.

this is so very silly but i do this too… i don’t know if i just started doing it after reading this or if i just realized, but i was losing balance while dancing and did this. vivi how could you do this to me.

His thumb rubs circles on your ankle as you swallow. His knee’s freezing over, almost attached to the sidewalk by now, but your mouse-quiet confession glues him to the spot.

UGH. my heart. would absolutely kill for this. the way you write leon is just so. ugh. i don't even know! you’re insane.

Of course, you’re right. They’re the very same Christmas heels that so rudely interrupted his enjoyment of your mom’s to-die-for lamb roast. Leon’s also sure that they’re the ones that got repurposed on New Year’s Eve two years back. He had to kiss you under the table next to the girls chowing down grapes, and it’s a lot less romantic when half of them shoot you death glares while they’re wishing to not spend Valentine’s Day alone again. Come to think of it, Leon hasn’t had grapes in a while.

this line is so stupid i love it so much. leon’s thought process is so human and sweet. i don’t know.

A snowdrop tear rolls down your cheek. “I didn’t buy them. You did, for me. I love them. Love you.” You sniffle so sweetly, your cheeks still candy-apple red as he wraps your scarf tighter to keep you from catching a cold on his account. But it’s not enough to distract Leon from the fact that he bought you these shoes? Oh no, no, no, you’re nodding as Leon’s face freezes into a horrified grimace. He’s responsible for the Heels from Hell? “Sweetheart, I just don’t want you getting hurt.” He takes your hands in his as your lower lip wobbles. He feels just awful. “It’s Christmas because I get to spend it with you, okay? Heels or no heels.” “You mean it?” “Those damn things have nearly sent you to the hospital, of course I mean it.” And finally, finally, you smile. Hark! The herald angels sing. 

ok i’m so sorry for copy and pasting a bunch of text but i am foaming at the mouth and sobbing just so horrifically. violet. vivi. violet with 5 a’s. vaaaaaiolet. you cannot do this to me. writing this one your period is insane because i was on mine and this made me cry so hard.

You look down and stifle a giggle. “Leon, you’re frozen to the sidewalk.” “So I am. Ow.” 

UGH HE’S SO STUPID I LOVE HIM 😭😭.

Leon thinks he’ll go online shopping once you fall asleep. For less dangerous Christmas heels, sure. But also something else. Something shiny. He really didn’t mind being on one knee for you.

no one will ever understand how this little paragraph ruined yet healed me. like. ERGH. jesus fucking christ. i am waiting every day for a part 2 💔.

um ok! that's all for my little dissection. i’m just gonna make a little drabble because i need to or i may combust.

—

New years parties weren’t anything to write home about. It was fun to get drunk off of champagne and vodka soda. It was nice to stumble in heels too high to be intoxicated in. 

You had snuck off with Leon, pulling off your do-up, having your makeup that you spent an hour on ruined, messing up your hair. Fireworks blared in the background as you pulled off his shirt and laid on whoever’s bed. The crumbled cotton sheets lay beneath your weight as you breath against his chest.

Moonlight shines through the window as both of your breaths slow. It wasn’t worth the risk of getting caught. Gentle fingertips hover with a ghostly feel over Leon’s pecs, dragging to his abs. He looked down at you, meeting your eyes and sucking in a breath. His baby blues looked at you like he saw his entire universe in them.

“You’re gorgeous.” His bass, silver voice turned soft. The two of you bask in the warmth of your love. “You must be drunker than you think.” A gentle chuckle emerged from your throat. Leon shook his head, looking slightly offended. He sighed, raking a hand through your hair. 

His free hand clasped into yours. Fireworks boomed far away and people began to cheer at the TV. “Any resolutions this year?” your low mumble filled the silence of the room. Leon hummed lowly.

“Mm.” He sighed. “Wanna settle down. Start getting life in order.” A rough, calloused hand rakes through his blonde locs. A drunken giggle made his cheeks grow warm as he laughed with you. “It’s true!” He emphasized.

Pink ran across both of your faces as grins plastered onto your mouths. “I think that may be mine too.” You agree. Leon sucks in a breath. People start counting down from thirty. “Good.” He got up to grab his pants and dug through his pockets. 

10.

“Le? What are you doing?”

9

“Something I’ve wanted to do for a while. Whether I knew it or not.” Leon smiled, grabbing something and leaning on one knee.

8

“Oh my god.” you whisper in disbelief.

7

“I think you know what I’m getting at here.” Leon cleared his throat and opened the box. A ring shone inside of it.

6

“Oh my god!” you sit up.

5

“Is.. that a yes?” His boyish grin widened as used a hand to scratch his neck

4

“Yes!” Leon jumped up to hold you.

3

“I can’t believe this. I’m going to cry.” Soft tears drip from your eyes with a soft beam.

2

“I love you so, so much.” His husky voice whispered.

1

“I love you more.” You reassure before connecting your lips

0

Happy New Year.

It's Christmas Eve and Leon can't quite wrap his head around his drop-dead-gorgeous girlfriend's need to be 4 inches off the ground, but maybe there's more to your fashion choices than what he considers a faux pas.

f / m, established relationship, tooth ROTTING fluff, the barest baby twinge of angst and surprise ending ehehehe. also, super short!

word count: 898 // read on ao3

a/n: christmas in july oh my lord. tmi i'm on my period and i've had lover by taylor swift on blast for 3 hours :( give your girl a break and pretend my dividers match

this fic belongs to sketches for my sweetheart the drunk, a collection of bite-sized fics to stretch out my writing muscles :) i hope you enjoy!

“No, sweetheart, the- no, the buckle comes off the other way.” 

If he were a lesser man, Leon would be laughing his head off at your flushed cheeks and bleary pout. You were going to do this right here, right now, plunked on the frozen stoop of your front door, mere steps from the warmth of your apartment. 

“I can take off my own shoes! I bought them my- hic! -self.”

“You did, sweetheart, “ Leon soothes as he gets down on one knee, “and I know you can take them off fine, but you weren’t drunk when you bought them, were you?”

“I’m not drunk. I’m just...” you sulk. You would have sold the act too if it wasn’t for a sleepy jerk of your head. You always get sleepy when you’re, “...tipsy.” 

Ah, there it is.

Your toes are a half-frozen cherry red as Leon unclasps the buckle adorning your beloved heels. 

There’s not much Leon can do about your affinity for heels, even in the winter, so he grew a sixth sense for detecting falls around the time you almost tripped headfirst into the Christmas table at your parents’ house. You haven’t quite put together yet why he’s so on his toes when you wear stilettos, but Leon is okay with that. Batman never reveals his identity and if this is how he keeps Gotham’s urgent cares a little less occupied, so be it.

The fact of the matter is that Leon has perfected his method to three steps:

Watch for abnormal movement in your fingers. You start fluttering them like you’re Tinkerbell. Like you’re trying to take off from the ground and fly right back up to heaven without him, and he can’t have that just yet.

Assume position when you start laughing too hard at his jokes to distract from the fact that you’re about to fall. You never laugh at his one-liners (the best he’s ever gotten out of you is a giggle and that was on his birthday). 

Engage nearest mode of rescue the second your eyes start flitting around in search of a place to land. 

But above all, the one condition that puts him on red alert is when you’ve been drinking. His sweetheart is a complete lightweight. 

And tonight, you’d had too much fun at Claire’s Christmas dinner.

It takes a little longer than usual for Leon’s icy fingers to undo the buckle on your other shoe. “The mulled wine was that good, huh?” he asks, his lips curving into a smile as he looks up at you and your crossed arms.

He gets a hmph! in response.

“You look beautiful. You always do, it’s just…could we maybe save the ankle-breaking shoes for when the ground’s not frozen over?” 

The frown flies back on your face within seconds. His peace treaty’s gone south. “But Leon, they’re my Christmas heels! I always wear them on Christmas.”

Oh, he knows. 

“That’s why they’re Christmas heels,” you point out. 

Of course, you’re right. They’re the very same Christmas heels that so rudely interrupted his enjoyment of your mom’s to-die-for lamb roast. Leon’s also sure that they’re the ones that got repurposed on New Year’s Eve two years back. He had to kiss you under the table next to the girls chowing down grapes, and it’s a lot less romantic when half of them shoot you death glares while they’re wishing to not spend Valentine’s Day alone again. Come to think of it, Leon hasn’t had grapes in a while.

“It’s not Christmas if I don’t wear them,” you mumble. 

You don’t sound so sure of yourself. 

Leon’s plea deal might be back on the table.

His thumb rubs circles on your ankle as you swallow. His knee’s freezing over, almost attached to the sidewalk by now, but your mouse-quiet confession glues him to the spot.

“I lied.”

“These aren’t your Christmas heels?”

A snowdrop tear rolls down your cheek. 

“I didn’t buy them. You did, for me. I love them. Love you.”

You sniffle so sweetly, your cheeks still candy-apple red as he wraps your scarf tighter to keep you from catching a cold on his account. But it’s not enough to distract Leon from the fact that he bought you these shoes?

Oh no, no, no, you’re nodding as Leon’s face freezes into a horrified grimace. He’s responsible for the Heels from Hell?

“Sweetheart, I just don’t want you getting hurt.” He takes your hands in his as your lower lip wobbles. He feels just awful. “It’s Christmas because I get to spend it with you, okay? Heels or no heels.”

“You mean it?”

“Those damn things have nearly sent you to the hospital, of course I mean it.”

And finally, finally, you smile. Hark! The herald angels sing. 

“Let’s get you inside.” Leon smiles back, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He’d have gotten up too if he hadn’t suddenly come to a comical stop, his left knee still perpendicular to the ground.

You look down and stifle a giggle. “Leon, you’re frozen to the sidewalk.”

“So I am. Ow.” 

You lend him a helping hand as the two of you stumble inside the warm apartment, and Leon thinks he’ll go online shopping once you fall asleep. For less dangerous Christmas heels, sure.

But also something else. Something shiny. 

He really didn’t mind being on one knee for you.

click for my full drabble collection, and find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

[nathank77]

11/6/24

1:50 p.m

My mother is being a royal bitch again. Her aid came. The dog barked and whines the whole time like crazy pushing her cage all over the kitchen. She drives me fucking crazy. And then my mother is stressed dealing with her stoma and displaces all her anger at me the scape goat. Things would be a lot more peaceful if we didn't have a dog barking and whining nonstop don't you think?

I just thought Katie was unlucky. She said when her mother and father quit drinking, not a lot about them changed. I believed her but as my mother quit drinking, I thought she was completely different. And for Katie it must just have been her parents and who they are as people.

Well over a month of her being sober and her being home for at least 2 weeks and yea Katie is right. She didn't change much. She doesn't repeat herself as much. She isn't as happy as she once was when she was chemically altered... but she's the same.

She made a comment about no one taking out the trash. When she made the decision to keep Riley i dropped all responsibilities. And I mean all of them. All of them.

So I said to her, "you want to know what id do if Riley left, I'd take out the trash so long as you held the top open. And I'd do"

Then she started screaming, shut up, shut up, stop talking and she was slamming her hands on the table over and over again. I mean a fucking melt down and I was talking, not yelling....

She's basically the same. Just doesn't have much of an excuse for being a cunt this time.

I'm aggravated cause she just blames me for everything but yea your stoma must be awful. I can only imagine especially with a yapping dog panicking the entire time you have to deal with it, huh? How is that my fault.

I don't need to go to the e.r. I wish I went to the gym but I had to wait for a call and I didn't want to be running and have to stop.... they don't think it's serious... I might try the injectable chlorestoral medication but im scared. I might try the statin sometime soon again..

I'm going to go to the gym tomorrow. And escape this awful hell. I'm so sick of being Alive. I hate where I live. I should have recorded her. She talks a shit storm to skye and Liv about me but christ. She comes at me with aggression. I respond most of the time with a, a matter of fact calmly. And then she just starts screaming.

Like I just can't cope. I guess I'm going to go to the gym tomorrow... and Saturday imma have a red bull day cause i have to go to my dad's on Sunday and I got to take more xanax anyways bc I know i won't sleep if I don't.... technically if I go to the gym Thursday I still hit 3 days this week, Saturday, Monday and Thursday... next week I'll go Monday, Wednesday and Friday....

Idk when or if i should retry the statin bc this was before the gym and it hurt my wrist and my muscles were achy and when I touched my leg it was tender.... idk what to do but I'm sick of being here...

What i read about my injectable medication and side effects specifically thyroid is it can cause thyriod storm. It happened to one person. That worries me and it can cause gastroenteritis.... makes me worry about it causing chorns or something in the long run. Also it can cause diabetes... but I'm a little less worried about that one...

Something I've been thinking is my chlorestoral went up from March to September... right after starting Methimazole and white mulberries... I mean idk. Meds can cause all sorts of side effects. White mulberries are known to lower chlorestoral but in this case it had no effect. What if Methimazole can raise it. Or even Xanax. I mean it's been almost a year of xanax. I have no idea.

I'm worried about sleep tonight bc i took 1mg last night bc my anxiety was so bad. And I can't do it tonight. I need to reserve it for Saturday so I can make sure I see my dad for his birthday.

[austronauts]

i am returning with yet another brainrot episode [dodges booing and tomatoes being thrown] of me annotating mitch youtube content.

this podcast episode with connor was ADORABLE and revealed a side of him that we rarely ever see otherwise SO...it has made my mitch hyperfixation at LEAST 5x worse. I say this so i can warn you to listen at your own peril (i say listen rather than watch bc mitch is like..in 240p the whole time and at certain points looks SO BLURRY he looks like an impressionist painting of a twink. how very renoir of him tbh). 

I also recognize this video is long af (honestly i didnt know mitch knew this many words....very impressed) so i’m time-stamping every part that im annotating...... also this post got so long so i’m sorry. i KNOW i always say this but it’s bc im genuinely always surprised by my own verbose ass.,.,,,,.,,,,.,.,,,,, WHY DO I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY IM JUST LIKE MITCH FR I NEED TO STOP YAPPING (morgan rielly voice: “just never shuts up”) 

1:35: mitch apparently loves oysters? honestly adding this only because it’s so cute when his face scrunches up and he throws his head back to laugh at 2:12 (also why is connor’s water glass so dirty what is HAPPENING)

3:21: mitch marner, self-proclaimed coffee aficionado and BEST coffee maker on the leafs, does not know what a chemex is. the look of blank confusion. i know what you are. a fraud who would rather be drinking capri suns and chocolate milk.

3:45: ok now we understand WHY mitch is always wearing a redbull hat (when he’s not wearing his recent assortment of ridiculous hat acquisitions like that powder blue hat with the HUGE BRIM or the orange prada bucket hat) - redbull just sends mitch HATS ON HATS ON HATS that he’s not even allowed to share as part of his agreement. i am now, in fact, asking redbull to send him EVEN MORE HATS so he’s less tempted to wear those hats he’s been wearing this off-season. redbull should just absolutely bury him in hats until he is no longer even visible. he’s not that big so it really shouldn’t take that many hats!!! that’s what i call a hat trick. that’s what i call cap space [booing from audience intensifies]

6:25: WHY is a CONNOR CARRICK MITCH MARNER PODCAST HOW I FIND OUT THAT PK SUBBAN AND LINDSEY VONN WERE ENGAGED?!?!! WHAT IN THE SPORTS ROYALTY?

7:14: just connor gassing mitch up and then chirping him for looking like a newborn foal when he entered the league (mitch then chirps himself for what he looked like with his shirt off lmao - it always surprises me how self-aware he seems to be and how comfortable he seems to be with himself? genuinely endearing tbh)

9:34: mitch talking about how formative visiting the children’s hospital in london (with christian dvorak) 1-2x a week was for him and the “legacy” he wants to build as a hockey player. like. as a cynical human i understand that this podcast is meant to be a fluff piece that’s beneficial for mitch’s reputation/brand, but as a human human i cannot help but be touched by how sincere mitch is about this. and more importantly, he’s shown it with his actions re: the genuine friendship he had with hayden, who mitch met during these hospital visits. 

11:54: hearing about mitch’s contract issues from mitch’s POV is pretty interesting, and i believe this is the most extensively he’s ever spoken about it? it makes so much sense that mitch’s biggest priority was not wanting to miss training camp and pre-season. and that he had ZERO intention of leaving the leafs. im forever genuinely flabbergasted by that contingent of leafs fans who thinks mitch was the one in the room negotiating with kyle/the leafs and playing games to squeeze every last dollar out of them? like DO THEY KNOW MITCH? THE TWITCH STREAMER? my. brother in christ, this guy does not even know what an encyclopedia is. my brother in christ, this guy called his finnish teammate “finlish.”  ANYWAY, he talks pretty openly about the impact the contract negotiations and pressure had on him mentally

17:40: connor: what is your favorite part of being a toronto maple leaf? mitch: my friends 🥺

19:54: mitch talking about how he just likes to check in “on his guys” and connor pointing out that whenever he gets an assist or a goal in a game, he still gets texts from mitch. WHICH IS. SO SWEET. as someone who is absolutely fucking terrible at keeping in touch with people i am JUST. SORRY TO BE A SAP BUT THATS SO SWEET OF HIM? WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!! IM GOING TO EAT HIM!!!!!!

20:30: THIS IS THE BEST PART LOWKEY - THE NIKE SHOES STORY DODOHFODHOSHSODASODHFAIDHFLWJEFKDLJKSAS. IF U WATCH NOTHING ELSE PLEASE WATCH THIS. THE DAY CONNOR GOT MOVED FROM THE LEAFS AND WAS SAD MITCH JUST SHOWED UP WITH A GIANT PILE OF SHOES TO GIVE CONNOR AND CONNOR HAD TO BE LIKE “MITCH? I AM MOVING? I CANNOT TAKE ALL THESE SHOES???” THIS IS THE MOST MITCH MARNER STORY I HAVE EVER HEARD I CANNOT LIKE IVE SAID THIS BEFORE BUT IF I READ IT IN A FIC I WOULDVE BEEN LIKE “LMAOOO THIS AUTHOR NAILED MY HEADCANON OF MITCH BUT IRL MITCH WOULD NEVER DO THAT” BUT NO! HE DOES! HE HAS! the fairy godmother only gave cinderella one pair of glass slippers but mitch marner will show up at your doorstep with 10+ pairs of emotional support nikes that he’s been trying to give you for MONTHS because he loves you!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

24:45: Mitch talking about how the award he’d want to win the most is the Selke - and given how great Mitch has been this past season offensively AND defensively AND on the PP AND on the PK??? give minch the selke send tweet. 

28:30: when Mitch was drafted by London he was 5′6″ and 125lbs DLKDLKSJA HE WAS fucking TEENSY! please! i 100% could have carried him around in a fanny pack with my wallet and keys and a granola bar and the 3-4 random crumpled receipts from walgreens

30:16: “whenever people ask me what it was like playing with mitchy, i always tell them he has the ability to rubiks’ cube the game.” i LOVE This and i will be using this expression from now on, even though i have never solved a rubik’s cube and never will!

46:20: I would say this is the 2nd really meaty part of this podcast? It’s where Connor and Mitch talk about Mitch’s draft day experience. When Mitch talks about how NERVOUS he was when Toronto went up to draft their 4th pick i started laughing because if you watch the 2015 draft video you can SEE JUST HOW PETRIFIED AND TERRIFIED AND CLOSE TO SHITTING HIMSELF THEN THROWING UP THEN FAINTING AND DISINTEGRATING INTO A PILE OF DRIED UP LEAVES MITCH LOOKS LMAO. like that boy was on the brink of death. also, really interesting details behind Phoenix Coyotes drafting Dylan at third right before Mitch here!

51:47: The 3rd meaty (auston-y :---))))) ) part of this podcast: Mitch talking about THE BABCOCK INCIDENT where babcock made mitch grade his teammates on work ethic. Mitch talks about it with a lot of levity and positivity tbh but hearing mitch even joke and laugh about it makes me sad because it clearly was a really awful experience for him to go through as a rookie. knowing how close mitch was and is to those 3 guys at the bottom - tyler bozak, naz, JVR (his recent italian escapade buddy) - is definitely comforting tho. BOOING BABCOCK FOREVER FOR THIS TBH. like WHAT were you aiming to get out of this and why the hell would you ever put a ROOKIE in this impossible situation?

55:46: THE FINAL MEATY PART OF THIS PODCAST: THE MATT MARTIN SECTION. honestlyyyyY. just watch this part from beginning to end pls because mitch clearly loves and treasures matt SO much and there’s SO much here that will make you want to gnaw gnaw gnaw chew chew chew scream ferally and SUE connor carrick for your upper body injury (heart hurts)... but anyway, a few highlights: 

Mitch calling Marty a protector, a big brother, and “how big of a mentor he was to me” - i WILL CRY!!!!!!! I WILL!!!!! THATS MY FAVE LEAFS SHIP RIGHT THERE 

“He was all for me shooting a puck off his leg or his ass.”  every other time Mitch opens his mouth he says something that makes me go “wait ..what did he say?” and have to re-listen. this is one of those moments

the FUNNIEST story about how connor and matt almost fought when they played for different teams because matt found connor so annoying. i won’t spoil the details but i - i def cackled out loud

“you just felt 2 feet taller with matt around” 🥺🥺🥺 ok that’s fine tHATS FINE 

OH GOD. THE worst part: Mitch talks about how Matt and Syd would always invite him over and make sure Mitch never felt alone his rookie year, and how this experience of feeling included and loved by Matt shaped the kind of teammate/friend Mitch tries to be aka making sure his home and heart are always open to his teammates. I....I’M. Y’ALL. HOLD MY HAND AND STAY WITH ME BECAUSE LIKE - think about the way bogo (esp when his family was away during covid) and justin lived with mitch and how the leafs all clearly love mitch so much and how mitch says he always tries to be the positive energy guy for his team AND I JUST .  LETHAL PSYCHIC DAMAGE SUFFERED FROM THIS PART OF THE PODCAST TBH BRAIN JUST LEAKIN OUT THROUGH MY EARHOLES AS I CRAWL INTO A CORNER. Matt Martin drop your location right now and square up because i will fight you right now for what you’ve done. how DARE you and mitch marner, 2 rich white men i absolutely do not know, make me want to be a better kinder person....i...pretend i do not see it...i pretend i do not feel it.

1:02:58: Yes this podcast is over an hour long and i watched all of it ahahahah1!! haHA! anyway, mitch thanking the frontline workers - very sincere and endearing and mitch-y (aka causing little brain blips of complete confusion - like why did he call the UPS... “ups”? is this a canadian thing? also him thanking the WIFI PEOPLE FJDLKDJLDDSDSSDAKJLDDFLFJFKJLDSJLDKFAJL lmfaofjldjDDKS lmfaofofoofofOFOFO okay)

But seriously the entire podcast is extremely endearing and it’s still the off-season so please do watch the whole thing if you have a chance! then come yell with me about it u know i love to yell 

[absolutepokemontrash]

The Seven Demon Lords’ Pet Human

So I’m quite fond of the idea that the lesser demons see MC as the brothers’ dumb pet human up until MC is revealed to be a five star badass who can control the brothers on a whim. But Himiko isn’t okay with being referred to as anyone’s “pet”, and after a very bad day, she’s going to let the brothers know that.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Genre: Half Crack Half Fluff

Warning: This story features my MC, who uses she/her pronouns, if that makes you uncomfortable no harm no foul, see you next time

“Just their pet human,”

“Aw, they let their cute widdle pet walk around all by herself~.”

“The brothers’ new pet looks so delicious…”

Himiko Nanami was not one for demeaning nicknames. She had told Luke over and over again that the reason people kept calling him a chihuahua was because he gave them a reaction, but she just couldn’t follow her own advice. A pet… the brothers’ pet… what complete and utter shit.

She had forged pacts with the seven lords of Hell. She had escaped death more times than she could count. On her first day at RAD, she had gouged out a demon’s eye with her headband for trying to eat her. She had walked Cerberus and survived. Himiko was no dainty little pet.

It was a tragedy that some of the demons that wandered the halls of RAD couldn’t see that. Not all the demons were irredeemable anti-human trash, some were quite sweet. But it only took one weird squishy grape to make Himiko refuse to eat the rest of the bowl. That’s how that saying goes, right?

It was supposed to be a good day, it was a Friday for Christ’s sake! But no, the world at large was conspiring to make Himiko’s forehead vein burst.

First period with Satan went normally for the most part, until the two paired up for an assignment and Himiko decided to give Satan a few pats on the head. A few snickers coming from a few rows behind her drew her attention, and right after Satan left to use the bathroom, that’s when she heard it. The first comment of the day.

“Aww, a pet petting her master, how sweet.”

When Satan returned, Himiko was holding a broken pencil.

To her credit, she didn’t dignify those idiots with a response, but their comment managed to burrow its way into her brain and settle there right when she snapped the pencil.

Second period shouldn’t have been so shitty, Himiko had friends in that class. Friends other than the brothers and the other exchange students, but no. Everything sucks in the Devildom.

Paimon had so sweetly offered to share some of his chips with her when he heard she had skipped breakfast. Himiko was in the middle of happily chowing down when some asshole decided to ruin the cute friendship moment.

“Geez Pai, I thought you’d be more responsible than that~.” A demoness a few rows ahead cooed. “Feeding other people’s pets without asking~.”

Paimon choked on the chip he was chewing on while Himiko gave the demoness a bone chilling glare.

“Sh-she’s not- I’m not-”

“How about you mind your own fucking business?”

The demoness only rolled her eyes and turned back to giggling with her friends. It was truly a shame that at least 60% of all the demon ladies in the school were incredibly mean and/or homicidal, a shame for Himiko because she’s a raging bisexual.

With her appetite lost, Himiko forfeited the rest of the chips to Paimon.

Lunch went by as normal as it could have gone. She sat with the brothers as usual and happily watched their antics. When she left the table to throw her trash away was when all hell broke loose.

“-Pet,”

“-Pet…”

“-Pet.”

“-Pet!”

All those damned whispers reached Himiko’s ears and if she had any less patience she would have pulled her hair out and screamed. When she got back to the table, she spent the rest of her lunch period in silence.

What’s worse was that her next class was with Solomon, and the only seat available was next to him. Great…

“Grouchy today, ms. Nanami?”

“Annoying today, mr. Wizard?”

Solomon let out a quiet and carefree laugh and rested his head on his hand. “Oh Himiko, you know I’m always up for being a little annoying.”

Himiko rolled her eyes and tried to pay attention to the teacher. “Whatever…”

Class went on, but Solomon didn’t let up on his quiet pestering.

“Himiiiiii, tell me what’s wrong, I won’t laugh.”

“Go to hell.”

“Poor choice of words, you’re there with me.”

“I hate you.”

“So mean, I’m just trying to help. Solomon the Wise is known for giving great advice!”

Himiko turned and looked at the immortal sorcerer next to her and saw his pitiful attempt at what looked like puppy dog eyes. She rolled her eyes again and turned back to her work.

“I thought you were known for ordering a baby to be sawed in half.”

“Hey!” Solomon huffed, crossing his arms. “The baby did not get sawed in half. The saner of the two women got to keep the baby, I was being smart.”

“Sure, sure.” Himiko couldn’t hold back a bit of a smile. To her own surprise, Himiko began to weigh the pros and cons of actually telling Solomon what was going on. Hm, on one hand, Solomon was the only other human that might possibly understand what Himiko was dealing with, on the other hand, Solomon was a known shifty bastard and could barely be counted as human at this point. In the end, human solidarity won out.

“Solomon,” Himiko began. “Have you ever gotten called a pet before? Like a demon’s pet..?”

Solomon thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Probably. I’ve been alive too long not to have been called every name under the sometimes lack of sun, but I’ve always been more widely known as someone who makes demons into his pets.”

“Mmm, sure.”

“But fret not Himiko, those closest to you know the truth. You’re no pet.”

Not exactly the heaps of comfort Himiko wanted, but at least Solomon answered truthfully and didn’t say anything that would get on her nerves-

“I don’t know why you’re so upset about that nickname though, you’d look amazing in a collar.”

For what happened to poor Solomon right after he said that, let’s just say a palm reader could read Himiko’s future off Solomon’s face.

In fourth period, Himiko had to hold herself back from bitchslapping someone else who decided it would be a good idea to test her. A quick word of advice to anyone in the Devildom who would like to survive an encounter with Himiko, never, ever, fuck with her headband.

“You fiendish demon!” Luke yapped, trying to help get Himiko’s headband back from the nasty awful no good demon who decided to pluck it off her head and hold it out of reach. “Give that back!”

“N’awwwwww, pet buddies!” The taller demon laughed and dangled the headband a little closer. “So cute! Someone get a picture for Devilgram-”

Luke slammed his foot directly into the demon’s kneecap. The demon practically shrieked and doubled over only to be met with Himiko’s knee in his gut. She daintily plucked the headband from his grasp and quickly pulled Luke out of the room.

“Are you okay?” The moment the two were far enough down the hall, Luke began to fuss over Himiko like a tiny nurse. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

“No buddy, I’m fine.” Himiko held out her hand for a high five. “Up high,”

Whack!

“Down low,”

Woosh!

“Too slow.”

“Hey!” Luke whined. “No faaaaaiiiiir!”

———————

No one wants their human to be grumpy, especially not the brothers, so when Himiko spent the rest of the time until dinner holed up in her room, they were a tad concerned.

“My human’s all saaaaaaaaad,” Mammon rested his chin on the table and whined. The rest of the brothers sans Asmo were sitting at the table awaiting dinner. “Himiko said she didn’t wanna play the Game of Life, and it’s like, the one game she’s good at…”

“Yeah, she’s been pissy all day.” Belphie added before quietly yawning. “What’d you do, Mammon?”

“Me?!” Mammon sputtered, practically scrambling out of his seat and pointing an accusatory finger at his brothers. “I didn’t do shit! What about you idiots?!”

“Well, let’s look at what we know,” Satan said, waving off Mammon. “During first period we partnered up for a project, I left to use the restroom, then when I came back she looked upset. During lunch when she left, she came back and didn’t speak the rest of the lunch period. Any theories?”

Beel raised his hand, and Satan nodded to him. “Himiko has terrible separation anxiety now, she can’t go too long without us.”

Satan gave Beel a few nods, then turned to the others. “That’s one guess. Anyone else?”

Mammon raised his hand, and Satan promptly ignored him.

“Oi! Pay attention to me!” Mammon stuck his hand in the air and waved harder. “She’s angry because she’s failin’ a class! Every time we’re not distractin’ her, she remembers!”

“I would have heard if she was failing a class.” Lucifer finally piped up from the head of the table, his face was buried in RAD’s newspaper. “You on the other hand, Mammon, are failing three of your four classes this semester.”

Mammon slid back into his seat and scratched the back of his neck. “About thaaaaaat, I need money for uh… for new books n’ pencils n’ shit. That’s why I’m failin’, you’ll lend me money, won’t ya big bro?”

Lucifer didn’t get to respond as Asmo burst into the door of the dining room with a pot of pasta that was almost half his height. “DINNER IS SERVED~!”

As everyone settled in to eat, Himiko finally made her appearance and plopped herself down in her usual seat next to Mammon and helped herself to the pasta with rosé sauce.

“It’s good! It’s good right?” Asmo peppered the group with questions about the food and how good he did. Himiko had to admit, this was damn good pasta. Smooth, creamy, cheesy, all that was missing was garlic bread. In a matter of minutes Himiko had cleared her first bowl and was going in for seconds.

“So Himiko,” Satan said as Himiko continued to shovel pasta into her face at a pace that could rival Beel. “We’ve noticed you’ve been looking a little upset today, care to satiate our curiosity?”

Himiko paused mid bite, which wasn’t doing wonders for her appearance considering she had sauce on the tip of her nose. But still, how sweet of her boys to notice, it made her cold dead little heart swell with love.

“Oh you know, just idiots at school not worth my attention.”

“What have they been saying?” Asmo asked, his voice unusually stiff.

“They’ve been calling me you guys’ pet.” Himiko grumbled. “How ridiculous is that?”

The clattering of forks and the chewing of food halted as the boys went completely silent. Himiko shifted uncomfortably in her chair as she looked around. Had what those demons said been a greater insult to the boys than she-

“Pfff- HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Mammon erupted into laughter and the rest of the brothers followed suit.

“G-Geez,” Belphie snickered, feigning wiping a tear from his eye. “Humans are so sensitive.”

“Excuse me?!” Himiko gripped her fork so hard she was sure it would leave indents.

“I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, Himi,” Levi said between bouts of cackling. “But you are a teeny tiny little normie human surrounded by well… us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?! That I should just roll over and take it!?” Himiko immediately turned and pointed at Belphie. “Don’t you dare.”

Belphie’s mouth was open to make a comment about Himiko’s poor choice of words, but the pact activated and any words died in his throat. Belphie flipped her off and Himiko returned the gesture.

“Himiko,” Beel was sweet enough to not laugh at Himiko’s predicament. “It’s not that big of a deal. Besides, people love their pets.”

As sweet as Beel thought his words were being, Himiko really wanted to send him to bed without dinner.

“Yes, yes, Beel’s right.” Satan took a deep breath and collected himself after his laughing fit had finally ceased. “It’s nothing to worry about, Himiko. It shouldn’t be bothering you. Just don’t listen.”

Himiko somehow gripped her fork even tighter as she levelled her ice cold glare at Satan. “Thank you so much for demonsplaining how I should deal with and feel about the very human problem of people seeing me as some toy.”

The venom in her words seemed to snap the rest of the table out of their giggly stupor, and Mammon gave Himiko a few pats on the back.

“Ah don’t worry about it, Himiko. I’ll fight any bastard who says anythin’ like that.” Suddenly realizing he hadn’t been a tsundere for five whole minutes, Mammon went red and snatched his hand away. “Ya know, just because you’d probably use the pact and order me to anyway…”

“I’m not a dere~” Levi began to softly sing, Himiko perked up and grabbed Mammon’s cheek.

“A tsun-tsundere~”

“Not that song again!”

That should have been the end of that whole debacle. Himiko’s decent mood had been restored and all was well! The gang chatted amicably for the rest of dinner. Himiko made sure to heap loads of praise on Asmo for his amazing pasta. She felt a part of her die when she went in for fourths and the spoon scraped the bottom of the pot.

Too bad nothing ever goes smoothly in the Devildom.

Since it was Asmo’s night to cook, it was Himiko’s night to do dishes, so she got up and began to clear the table. As she began to collect the unused knives, Lucifer, not looking up from his newspaper, handed Himiko his plate.

“Thank you, pet, that’ll be all.”

Himiko stopped dead in her tracks and her grip on the plate tightened. “Repeat that, Lucifer?”

“Thank you, pet, that’ll be all.”

A tiny smirk spread across Lucifer’s face, which only served to make Himiko’s blood boil. If he thought he could make a joke about that while she was still mad he had another thing coming.

As quick as a flash, she had whipped the plate straight at the ground, shattering it into dozens of tiny pieces, before Lucifer even had a chance to say anything, Himiko was standing in front of him with a frigid glare on her face.

“Lucifer, put your hand flat on the table and spread your fingers. Keep quiet.”

With no choice but to obey, Lucifer slapped his hand down on the dining table, though, the glare he was giving her wasn’t any less murderous. Not caring, Himiko’s gaze remained cold and calculating, she turned to the other brothers, who were rooted in place from sheer shock. “Stay.”

“I’d just like to get something out there to you seven,” Himiko said calmly, holding one of the knives in her right hand and waving it around like it was the most casual thing in the universe. “I, am no one’s pet,”

Himiko turned and slammed the knife right between Lucifer’s middle and index fingers, imbedding it deep in the table.

“Arm candy,”

The second knife was slammed right in between Lucifer’s middle and pointer finger.

“Or accessory.”

The final knife went between his index and pinkie finger. Himiko’s next words were slow and deliberate as she stared the strongest of the brothers directly in the eyes.

“I am your friend, and equal, I won’t accept being anything less, whether it’s a joke, or not. You agreed to those terms the day we made our pact, didn’t we Lucifer? Have you changed your mind?”

It was so quiet you could hear Henry 2.0 swimming around in Levi’s room upstairs. No one dared to breathe as the seconds ticked past.

Finally, Lucifer responded, his voice tinged with exasperation. “No Himiko, I haven’t.”

“Good,” A small triumphant smile appeared on Himiko’s face as she removed the knives from the table and finished up cleaning the table. “That goes for the rest of you boys too, got it?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Mhm.”

“Yes…”

As Himiko walked into the kitchen to do everyone’s dishes, they quietly reminded themselves exactly who they were dealing with. Himiko Nanami was no dainty little human, no no no, she was the one master to rule them all, and by god was she going to make sure no one ever forgot.

——————

AAAAAAAA THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE!!!! I really need to write more stuff with Himiko! Inspiration struck at like… 10 this morning and I just ran with it.

Now on one hand, I can see that people might think that Himiko overreacted to Lucifer’s little joke a tad. Buuuuuuuuuuut she’s gotta shut down that shit early, right? She doesn’t want “pet” to be the next “chihuahua”.

Lucifer’s probably trying to stick his nose back in his newspaper as he wonders whether he’s incredibly enraged or unbelievably turned on.

Hope you all enjoyed! Now back to the regularly scheduled shitposting.

[respectlless]

𝓲. briefly she discards her typically steady hand, allowing for an "accidental" slip of the pin, hoping it'd prick his skin. she had no patience for this whining. truth be told she'd picked vox for this for multiple reasons; the model that had been killed had a similar height and build, albeit with slight curvature as she had been a woman. never in her life would she allow vox to walk in one of her shows, as funny as it may have been in theory; she'd have someone else model the dress, but said model had been insistent she wouldn't be in for another two hours and this dress has to be perfect before then. vox would just have to do for now.

❝val's too tall; his big arse would damage the seams, and i'd rather listen to your bitching than his. although ideally there'd be no bitching,❞

𝓲𝓲. and there he went, arguing his point of how 'important' it was that he be watching alastor. she scoffs at this statement, brow twitching as she once again straightens out the sleeve, giving it a few smoothing brushes with her hand and looking over her work astutely.

❝no, it has to be ready to go in two hours. i wouldn't have to be adjusting it if it wasn't for your boyfriend killing the middle it was fitted for originally. christ it's like when i talk it goes in one ear and out the other.❞

❝you'll survive two hours of not staring at alastor. what exactly do you think the mangey git is going to do in two hours hm? he doesn't need to be babysat. based on your yapping he's very probably doing nothing more than mucking about in that shit hole hotel. so stop fretting; you sound like my nan.❞

𝓲𝓲𝓲. she taps her chin, eyes narrowing as she looks over the dress once more, taking in every detail; she's fairly certain she's gotten the sleeves right but one had to be sure. she would settle for nothing less than perfection.

❝right, hold your arms out to the side.❞

Grumbling as she spoke, watching her as she grabbed another pin, worried about her getting too careless. "What? No!" He scoffed, "I had actual plans. Watching Alastor is something that I just happen to do when I'm not busy. You know what they say: keep your friends closer and your enemies closer." He said, "Though, if you don't take it easy with those pins I will be pulling you closer, my dear Velvette." He said, smiling down at the fashionista.

He looked down at the dress he was wearing, making a face before looking back up at her, hearing her obvious annoyance. Groaning as he let his body slump, "Seriously? You can't even TELL." You could.

"Just give me like a couple hours to finish up my work then I can come back down and help you finish up things here. You have time before this dress needs to actually be finished, right?" He never actually did pay attention to her work -- or Val's for that matter unless he was in need of calming the moth overlord down.

"Or you know, I could have someone come step in for me -- like literally anyone -- anyone with boobs specifically since ya know...it's a dress! Or better yet, how about we get the moth-head to come down and help since he's the one who ruined everything and set you behind!"

The longer he waited... the more antsy he got. He needed to take this dress off and go see what Alastor was up to.

[wondernimbus]

crush — harry potter

pairing: harry potter x female!reader

prompt: harry works up the courage to talk to his crush.

please refrain from plagiarizing my work!

Unbeknownst to the girl sitting in the farthermost corner of the library, the sun has long since set in the horizon to give way to the moon that now hangs in the midnight blue sky. Numerous stars twinkle from up above, shining upon the Hogwarts castle; it paints a breathtaking, almost otherworldly view. One could glance up at the night sky for a brief moment and find themselves unable to tear their eyes away from it.

But the night sky is not what [Y/N] finds herself immersed in. What has her full attention—what has had her full attention for the past five hours now, is the book she holds in her hands: Mind-Boggling Mysteries in Magical History by Atasha Iqinn. It has nine hundred pages worth of exactly what its title states—strange mysteries in the wizarding world that have gone down in history for their oddity—and [Y/N] is already on page 783.

Just like every other weekend trip to the Hogwarts library, [Y/N] has spent a much longer time than intended in the vicinity of the countless bookshelves. She'd told herself that she'd only stay to read for a little while—two hours at most—but five have passed and [Y/N] still hasn't quite snapped herself out of her state of reverie. It's just so easy to lose herself in the abundance of books that Hogwarts has to offer; she'd pluck one out from a bookshelf, skim over its contents briefly, and if she found it to be interesting enough, she would sit down at her favorite table—the one right by the window in the farthest corner—and read.

And she would read for hours and hours until someone—most likely Madame Pince—tapped her on the shoulder and ushered her out.

Today, though, it's not Madame Pince.

—

"Stop it, Ron—"

"Come on, mate—don't be a wuss—"

"Shut up—I'm not being a wuss—it'd be weird if I just went up to her and—bloody hell, stop it!"

Ron stops dragging Harry by the arm and drops his hands to his sides. The pair of them are standing, very poorly hidden behind a bookshelf, near the Ravenclaw girl reading a book in the corner—the same one Harry has been helplessly crushing on for, what, two months now?

It had all started when Harry stumbled upon her in the Hogwarts Express in search for Ron and Hermione. He'd opened a random compartment door and, despite the fact that there were two other Ravenclaws in the compartment, she'd captured his attention first. Up to now, Harry can still vaguely recall the feeling of being dumbstruck by how—well—downright pretty she was.

Harry can't quite call it love at first sight, but he certainly does like her. Is "like at first sight" a thing?

Ever since that very brief encounter on the Hogwarts Express, Harry has only seen her around the castle once or twice. They don't have any classes together since apparently she's older than him by a year, but what Harry has noticed is that she is almost always in the library. 

So naturally, Harry has now become a bit of a bookworm as well. Not because of a love for reading, but because of a particularly pretty fourth-year Ravenclaw.

He'd pass by the library under the pretense of checking out a book just to catch a glimpse of her. He'd spend his free periods there reading the same book over and over just so he has an excuse to be in her presence, albeit he always sits at a table at least ten feet away from her. Ron and Hermione have, of course, noticed, but Hermione isn't nearly as insistent as Ron is being about it.

E.g. right now: Harry has quickly realized that bringing Ron along to the library had been a very, very big mistake. He'd been planning on doing his regular [Y/N]-admiring routine (Merlin, that sounds weird) today, but Ron keeps pestering him to go say hi to her.

Which, of course, is absolutely ridiculous. Harry has never even considered actually trying to befriend her, much less talk to her. He's content with staring at her from afar, thank you very much, no wonder how weird that makes him seem. He's not the type to make a move. Never has—never will be.

But Ron isn't quite helping with that. Harry swats his hand away when Ron makes a move to grab his arm again, presumably to physically drag him over to [Y/N].

"Bugger off, Ron," he hisses, taking a quick peek behind the bookshelf to look at [Y/N], who is still as engrossed with her book as ever. 

Ron snorts loudly. "Don't tell me you can face bloody You-Know-Who but not talk to a crush."

Harry scowls. "This is different." Ron has a point—but he's not about to admit that. "What if I asked you to go confess your undying love for Hermione?"

Ron's mouth falls open; it isn't long before his cheeks turn into a shade of red almost as vibrant as his hair. “Undying love?" he repeats incredulously, opening and closing his mouth like a fish blown out of water. "Undying love—that's ridiculous. I don't love Hermione—I don't like her either—that's just weird.. that's like liking—I don't know—McGonagall or something," he shudders dramatically, but the blush on his cheeks says otherwise.

Harry stares at his best friend, amused, and then reaches out to pat his shoulder. "Whatever you say, mate."

Ron frowns. "I don't—what—" huffing, he realizes that it would be better to just stay silent at this point. With his eyes skittering away, he mumbles something about "crushes.. Hermione.. bloody mental". 

Harry finally chooses a random book and removes it from the shelf—The Wizard's Cookbook by Ellis Ephodal. "Come on, let's sit—and for the love of Merlin, don't do anything dodgy.."

"Dodgy in what way?" Ron asks, carelessly plucking a book from a shelf that he and Harry pass by on their way to Harry's regular table.

"Don't start waving to her or something," Harry narrows his eyes at him, taking a seat on the chair facing [Y/N], who remains completely oblivious to the two Gryffindors whispering about her a mere few feet away. 

"Ha, as if you're not being dodgy," Ron mutters, sitting opposite him and flipping to a random page in his book. "Sitting here spying on her on a daily basis.."

It's Harry's turn to blush. "I'm not spying on her," he protests, his eyes momentarily darting to [Y/N] over Ron's shoulder. "I'm just.."

"Stalking her?" Ron snickers.

Harry shoots him a look. "No. Quit yapping, she might hear you."

Ron looks over his shoulder—or perhaps that's an understatement, because he quite literally twists his entire body around in his seat to look at [Y/N]. Harry gapes at him, reaching over the table to smack his head—and successfully doing so.

"Ow!"

From somewhere in the library, Madame Pince says, "Shhh!"

Clutching his head, Ron turns back to face Harry and glowers at him. "That hurt."

"Sorry," whispers Harry, but the deadpan look on his face makes it very clear that he doesn't mean it. "Did you really have to turn around like that?"

Ron rolls his eyes, still massaging the spot where Harry hit him. "Don't get your knickers in a twist. I could start stripping right now and she wouldn't even notice."

Once again, Ron has a point. But once again, Harry isn't going to admit that to him. The utterly focused look on [Y/N]'s face gives the impression that even if the castle were to start crumbling right then and there, she wouldn't even bat an eye.

Harry and Ron finally fall silent for a few minutes, but isn't long before Ron starts up again and goes, "You know what—"

Harry's eyes dart away from [Y/N] to look at Ron. "Be quiet."

Ron ignores him. "I'm tired of this. As your best mate, I'm telling her you fancy her." Without waiting for an answer, Ron slams his book shut with a loud thud ("Shhhh!" says Madame Pince's voice) and rises to his feet.

"What are you doing—"

"Being a good friend," says Ron matter-of-factly, rolling his shoulders back like he's about to get into a fistfight. "No need to thank me."

With gritted teeth, Harry's eyes dart around the library before he practically dives over the table and grabs Ron's arm, tugging him back down to his seat. "Sit—down—"

"Let go—"

Ron persists, but Harry keeps hanging onto his robes until the redhead finally groans and plops back down onto his chair. "Are you bloody mental?" asks Harry incredulously.

"Maybe, but at least I'm not a wimp!" Ron retorts, exasperated. "Grow some balls, Harry! You don't seriously think you'll ever get the girl if you just sit here staring at her every single day, do you?"

"I'm not trying to get her—"

"What, are you just planning to watch her like some creepy stalker the whole year? What'll you do if some random bloke comes up to her and asks her out? You're flipping Harry Potter—if anyone's got a chance with any girl, it's you!"

"Shhhhh!" chides Madame Pince more insistently this time, poking her head out of an aisle of bookshelves.

Ron gives Harry a serious look. In a quieter tone, he says, pointing his index finger at him, "You've gotta take your chances, mate. If you don't get up right now and talk to her, I swear to Merlin I'm telling her you like her—and you can't stop me this time."

Harry scoffs. "Oh, yeah? Try me."

Ron makes a move to stand up, but at a speed much quicker than lightning, Harry grabs his arm again and pulls him back down into his seat. "I was joking," insists Harry hastily.

"Didn't sound like you were," Ron remarks.

"I was," Harry assures him not-very-convincingly. And then, fidgeting in his seat, he looks at [Y/N] for a half-moment before leaning forward towards Ron and saying quietly, "You're being serious?"

"Hundred percent," Ron assures him, nodding fervently. "I could climb over this table right now and start yelling 'Harry fancies [Y/N]' at the top of my lungs, if you like."

Harry let outs a long breath, rubbing his forehead. "Jesus Christ.."

Ron crosses his arms and props his elbows on the desk, leaning towards Harry with his butt almost hanging off of his chair as he urges in an insistent tone, "Just do it, Harry. You fought off You-Know-Who twice—you can do anything. Come on."

As much as Harry hates to admit it, his best friend once again has a point—if Harry can fight off one of the most powerful wizards to have ever existed, then he can talk to a girl.. right?

Right?

"Alright, fine. To hell with it," Harry gets up from his seat, struck by a sudden burst of courage. "You're right. I can't just sit around here watching her all year—I'm gonna go talk to her."

"Brilliant!" exclaims Ron, clapping his hands together. "You've got this, Harry. Come on."

Clenching his fists, Harry takes a deep breath and starts walking towards [Y/N], whose eyes remain on her book. Throughout the five-second journey it takes for Harry to approach her, Ron keeps whispering hushed encouragements from behind him—"You're gonna ace this, mate, you're a champion". Harry almost turns around to tell him to shut up, but in all honesty Ron's little comments are egging him on, so he just lets him. 

Finally, Harry comes to a stop in front of [Y/N]'s table. He licks his lips nervously, and with his hands curled into fists at his side, he clears his throat.

She doesn't look up.

Oh Merlin this is going horribly wrong.

Harry tries again, this time reaching out to tap her on the shoulder. Finally—finally, she blinks several times, tears her gaze away from the book for what must have been the first time in hours, and looks up at him.

"Um, hi," Harry grins awkwardly, sliding into the seat opposite her. "I’m—I'm Harry."

She raises her eyebrows at him, obviously a little taken aback. Harry flushes and scratches the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Um," he presses his lips together, grasping at words that won't come to him. "I've—I've been watching you."

It takes Harry a moment to realize how horribly wrong that must have sounded like. [Y/N] looks more taken aback than ever—a crease forms between her brows as she asks, "I'm sorry?"

"That came out wrong," he says hurriedly. "I meant to say I've been watching what you read. Unintentionally. You have.. really good taste in books."

With her eyes still narrowed suspiciously, she nods slowly. It's clear that she's still thinking about him telling her he'd been watching her. "Thanks..?"

Harry swallows, trying to ignore the panicky feeling inside his chest that screams at him to run out of there and never look back. Ron's words echo in his head: "You're a champion, Harry.. you can do anything.."

Shifting in his seat, he gestures to the book she holds in her hands and discreetly squints at the cover. "Mind-Boggling Mysteries in Magical History—yeah, great book," he comments much too enthusiastically, "Love that book."

She glances down at the book in her hands and lets out a light laugh—and yes, it's a very awkward laugh, but it's a laugh nonetheless. "It is," she agrees, eyebrows raised. "What'd you think about the Magical Menagerie chapter? I found that one really intriguing."

What the bloody hell is that, Harry's brain thinks, but his mouth says, "Oh, yeah. Loved that one. Really.. really mysterious."

Her eyebrows arch up even higher and she lets out another laugh. A real one this time. Marking the page where she left off, she closes the book shut, sets it down on the table, and folds her arms on top of it. "What if I tell you there is no Magical Menagerie chapter?" she asks, eyes twinkling.

Harry gawks at her.

Oh, I’m done for, Harry thinks to himself, already preparing to get up and run away. But then he hears Ron's voice inside his head again, "Come on.. you're the Chosen One.. shoot your shot, Harry Potter, slayer of You-Know-Who.."

He clears his throat and scratches his temple as if in thought, feigning a look of wonder. "That's funny," he furrows his brows, watching her reaction. "Last time I checked there was—maybe that one was a different edition.."

[Y/N] snorts slightly with laughter, the mischievous glint in her eyes turning into an amused one. "Sure. A different edition—let's call it that. Points for trying, though," she smiles a little. Harry thinks he's doing fairly well—the skeptical, suspicious gaze she'd been staring at him with earlier had turned into one of curiosity.  

"Now, is there a specific reason why The Boy Who Lived is trying to talk to me about books he doesn't seem to know anything about?" [Y/N] asks, tilting her head to the side, still smiling yet with her eyebrows raised expectantly. 

Harry gulps. Oh, yeah—he can think of a few specific reasons.

1. I think you're really pretty.

2. Scratch that: you're absolutely bloody gorgeous.

3. I might have a crush on you.

4. I really, really like you.

"Pick one, oh Chosen One," he imagines Ron's voice saying inside his head. As though he's been possessed by Ron Weasley, Harry blurts out, "I think you're really pretty."

[Y/N]'s eyes widen a little, eyebrows rising even higher. And then she laughs, and then says in a voice tinged with amusement, "Really."

Harry gulps again—he swears the sound is ten times louder than it usually is. "Um—yeah. Sorry," he adds, just because he feels like he's weirding her out. His entire body is burning up; he's probably turned bright red at this point. Yeah, now would be the time to leave. 

He moves to get up from his seat, mumbling something about having somewhere to go, but [Y/N] says, "Wait."

Harry pauses with his butt halfway off his chair, knees bent, and then he sits back down.

[Y/N] is smiling softly at him, lips slightly tugged up at the edges and her cheek twitching like she's suppressing a grin. And—Harry gasps mentally—is she blushing, or has he gone mad? 

"Thanks," she tells him, pursing her lips before adding somewhat bashfully, "For calling me—um—pretty, I guess."

Harry wipes his clammy hands on his robes underneath the table, letting his eyes skitter away because something about holding her gaze for too long is making him jittery. Pursing his lips, he mutters, "You're welcome. It's—well. It's true."

[Y/N] lets out a quiet laugh, shaking her head as though in disbelief. "You're one awkward bloke, aren't you, Harry Potter?" she teases, her eyes sparkling as she leans forward in her seat. "That's surprising, though. I've always pegged you as the arrogant type—you're 'The Boy Who Lived', after all," she grins at him, eyes flicking up momentarily to the scar on his forehead before maintaining his gaze again. "I suppose I was completely wrong. It's a pleasure to meet you—I'm [Y/F/N]."

She sticks her hand out over the table. Harry stares at it for a moment before he realizes he's supposed to shake it. Hurriedly wiping his sweaty palms on his robes again, he takes her hand; "Harry Potter," he grins rather awkwardly, shaking her hand for a brief moment before pulling away. He doesn't know if he's imagining it, but his hand feels tingly. (So does his heart.)

—

Two hours later, Harry stares up at the dark canopy of his bed, listening to the sound of rain falling outside combined with Neville's loud snoring.

For the first time in what seems like forever, normal teenage-boy thoughts are what render him unable to fall asleep. Not thoughts of Lord Voldemort coming back to life, not of Sirius Black hunting him down or of those hooded dementors—no, all that he can think about tonight is a certain Ravenclaw who had captured his heart ever since he saw her on the Hogwarts Express.

a/n: i had loads of fun writing this aaa as always feedback is very much appreciated!

[scaryscarecrows]

Are there alternative POVs to your Whumotober chapter 5, Where do you Think You're Going? I'd love to see what Bruce, Dick, or Jim had going through their head at the time.

Took some digging, but I found a little bit. Maybe one day I'll finish it...

Bruce, in true Bruce fashion, hears ‘Joker’s escaped’ and hurtles off into the night without so much as an ‘I’ll keep in touch’. Because he won’t. Because Batman is above such petty things as ‘communication’.

Dick’s not bitter at all. He promises.

Whatever. Bruce’s Bruce-ness means that Dick’s the one hanging around the asylum to deal with that fallout when Gordon’s voice goes panicked and he spits out, “Dove, you have to get outta there--”

Okay, that’s weird. One, Dove Marquis (that’s gotta be who’s on the other line, right) is usually at work, and Penguin’s been...quiet...lately. Dick needs to drop in on him, poke him a little for fun. But two, Dove’s usually not, like, in the line of fire. She does her job and goes home and minds her own business. If this is Joker-related (probably), there is literally no reason for him to be interested in her. Dove, like every other person with half a brain, avoids the clown at all costs.

“But--Dove. Dove, listen. Joker is out, he murdered his way out earlier tonight and that’s probably why, you need to go.”

Dick has never been more confused.

“For--fine. Fine. I’ll have someone over there as soon as possible, just--dammit.”

Gordon snaps his phone shut, looks around, and marches over to Dick.

“Nightwing,” he says, voice still freaked, “we may have a lead.”

“Commissioner?”

“I need you to go over to Dove Marquis’s apartment. Do you know where that is?”

Either he ruins the Bat-reputation of knowing everything, or he admits they’re all stalkers. There’s no winning here.

“Yes. Why?”

“Dove found Robin.”

The ground pitches under his feet. Jason’s been missing for months, and Joker...Joker’s been chatty about it. Dick had snapped the bastard’s arm the first time he started cackling about ‘so pretty when he screams’, but that hadn’t stopped him. Not even close.

Oh, God, Jay.

“You’re sure?” he demands, because he can’t do this, he can’t take many more false leads. “You’re positive?”

“That’s what she said, and I doubt there’s that many kids running around in a cape. Said she found him here--she had business for Penguin, I guess--”

“Robin?” Bullock’s suddenly there too, toothpick stilled between his teeth. “Dove���s got the kid?”

Dove. Jason. Joker.

Okay. Okay, okay. If he takes the bike off the island to the edge of town, he can take two shortcuts on the rooftops and be there in fifteen minutes, easy. Maybe even less, if he can catch the train.

* * *

The first thing he sees is the crowd in the street. The second thing he sees is the mangled corpse they’re gawking at. Paper-white skin, purple clothes, that godawful grin splitting the face even in death. The mask says he’s been shot several times, and when Dick looks up, he zeros in on a shattered window.

Jason--

“Batman,” he barks out, already firing his grapnel gun at the balcony he wants, “get to my location now.”

“What--”

He signs off. He does not need Bruce yapping in his ear, not right this minute. Joker’s dead. He’s just hoping Jason isn’t.

Mask says two people, one armed. Two alive people, though, and the unarmed one is small. So Dick throws manners out the window and bursts out of the bedroom.

Jay. He’s not. He…

Christ, he looks bad. Cut and bruised and broken and desperately thin, like he was at the start. But he’s alive, he’s breathing, and honestly, Dick had started to think…

He’s asleep, half on the couch and half on Dove, and wrapped in a big yellow comforter. She’s clearly cleaned him up at least some; that gash on his nose looks like it bled something awful.

“Nightwing.” Dove’s voice is rough. “Been a bit, kid.”

Yeah, he...hasn’t seen her since...geeze, since he got a haircut, at least. It’s been a while, all right.

“Did you…”

“Thought he had a gun. He was gonna come through the glass.” Jason shifts, shivering under the comforter. “His ankle’s messed up, an’ he’s sick.”

Better sick than dead.

“I. I’m just.” Keep it together, Dickie. “Little Wing?” He wants desperately to use his brother’s name; Robin is too...it’s too impersonal, right now. “Wake up.”

Jason, ever the stubborn little brat, does not. Dove moves and Dick catches the glint of a handgun. Little thing. If that’s what killed Joker--and he’s sure it is--it belongs in a museum.

Who knows. Maybe Penguin will do exactly that.

“Nightwing’s here to pick ya up, kiddo,” Dove’s saying now. “Wake up.”

Finally, finally, Jason’s eyes flutter open and he mumbles, “‘Wing?”

Oh, thank God.

“Hey, brat,” he says, crouches down to reach out to brush his fingers against Jason’s head. He is warm, but he’s real and here and alive. Everything else can come later. “Ready to go home?”

“Mm.”

“C’mon, I’m gonna pick you up. Please don’t bite me.”

It’s a valid concern. Last time Dick tried to pick up a sleepy Jason, he’d been chomped on hard enough to leave indents in his shoulder.

“Was one time. An’ you scared me.”

There is no biting when Dick carefully gets Jason into his arms and stands up. He’s lighter than he has any right to be, and now, up close, Dick can see new things. Track marks and finger-shaped bruises and evidence of broken things that haven’t healed right, or at all.

He’s only fifteen.

He looks so much younger.

“Thank you,” he says, and means it. If Joker...if he’d gotten him back, that would have been the end. They’d have found him, all right, dead. Dick’s been dealing with the Joker only a year and a half less than Bruce. He knows what he’s capable of, what he would have done. “Thank you for...for all of this.”

Now that he looks, she doesn’t look right, either. Her eyes are very far away.

“Get him home,” she says, and her voice is strong and solid. “It’s late. Jim’ll be here soon.”

Batman, too. Which is great, because Dick’s not balancing Jason on the bike. That’s just asking for trouble.

[ramble-writes]

So here comes another valentine's gift for the glorious @franks-mixtape ! If y'all remember the 2 Franks that are brothers and werewolves that I wrote some time ago, this is going from that again because I thought about it randomly and felt like I then needed more of it sooooooo yeah! If you DON’T know, the gist is being that his Frank and my Frank are half brothers. Father being a werewolf to both which resulted in his Frank being a halfling, while mine is whole werewolf due to different mothers. 19 years apart until both came to Ormond where they met up and figured out they’re brothers. So there ya go!

Warning(s): probs just standard cussing, buuuut that’s it lol

Don’t forget to like, reblog, and follow if ya wanna see more! (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

-

A Wednesday. Worst day for the 14th to fall on. Especially since it’s in the middle of the school week. Frank James Morrison sat there in the last class for the day, English. The teacher decided to focus on how Valentine’s day started from some dude who got executed in Rome or some shit. He wasn’t paying attention, finding it useless to learn about. Emerald green eyes lazily gazed around the room till they landed on his brother’s russet hair.

Frank Fenik Morrison was there a few seats to James’s left, amber eyes were trailing over the printed paper the teacher had passed out previously. As much as he was into literature, if he wanted to learn history on a subject of a man who was killed for trying to teach his religion to the Romans, he would’ve in his history class.

Fenik really was just idly taking his pencil to scribble a random design on a blank spot on the paper, the teacher’s voice seeming muffled in the background. Darkening some lines on the drawing, he felt a nudge in his mind, like someone nudging him with their arm. He lifted his eyes up and flickered to the side where gemstone eyes met and locked.

‘Dude. This shit is boring. Can’t we just.. skip out on this?”

‘I wish. But we can’t or shit’ll go down. Plus, they’ll know it’s us since we have the same exact name, minus the middle name.’

This made the raven-haired Frank sigh out loudly. He slightly scrunched his face up at hearing his other half chuckle both from a distance (thanks to his heightened hearing) and in his mind. Since figuring out the two had the same father, name, preference in tattoos, music, and other things, it made for the two getting along pretty easily. It resulted in a sort of bond to form. Since their father was a werewolf, it resulted in an animal like bond to form, that ran deeper than a standard sibling bond. Emotions, feelings, and thoughts were connected. It resulted in a mind link to have basically silent conversations.

‘Jesus fuckin Christ we have thirty minutes left of this bullshit. Feels like it’s taking foreverrrr!’

Fenik had to cover his mouth to stifle the laugh that bubbled up. Hearing him complain like a child made for lightening the boring mood. The internal complaining actually helped pass the time till the bell rang. Kids instantly got up with grabbing backpacks and shoulder bags alike and hurried for the door as the teacher called out that their homework from 2 days ago is due by Friday. Most likely, no one paid attention.

The two Morrisons waited at the bottom of the steps of Fairview, waiting on the other three of their odd pack in the snow. It didn’t take long for Julie, Susie, and Joey to come out. Julie adjusted her coat she has on as she hurried a bit down the stairs, being mindful of the snow-covered steps as she went over to the russet-haired Frank and planted her lips to his. This drew a very pleased growl from him as he kissed her back. Thankfully, those dreaded words to the holiday weren’t uttered.

“A’ight sluts! What’s the plan for today for shit to fuck up?” James asked, the name making Joey chuckle. “I’m lookin’ for chaos to burn down the grossness I feel from all this love shit.”

“I second that. There’s this jackass that’s been trying to feel Susie up in history when it comes to turning in work,” Julie huffed out. This made Joey look at the pinkett with concern on his face.

“And ya haven’t said anything?” Susie looked away at the tallest’s question which made him sigh. “Sus, ya gotta tell us when this kind of stuff happens..”

Her head only lowered before she pulled her hood up to hide her face. Joey had let out a sigh and draped an arm over her shoulders before looking at the other three. Amber, emerald, and brown eyes met and they all shared the same thought.

‘Trash the fucker’s place’

-

To cut things short, finding where the guy lives wasn’t hard. They did the standard: Egging the house, toilet paper thrown and draped over trees and parts of the house. But the brothers took it an extra step by managing to get up on the house with wadded up toilet paper, where they then shoved it down the chimney to block it up since smoke was coming out of it. And they were out as quickly as they came with a job well done. 

They all split to head to their homes, hearing distant sirens meaning the house called the fire department which was sweet music to them. Of course, the russet-haired teen snuck over to Julie’s place after her father passed out for their... usual time together. Raven, as another nickname to call James rather than by his middle name like Fenik, was laying there in bed till about midnight he heard his name being called through that mind link.

‘Thought you were busy bangin’ up Jules.’

‘Shut up and get your ass out here.’

‘Fiiine. But I still wanna hear about your adventures in the pussy caaaave!’

James snickered when he bet the other was rolling his eyes outside, but he got out of bed to get dressed in his usual letterman with an extra layer underneath since it is midnight and it’s still winter. Out the window he went and onto the ground below where his brother is standing and waiting.

“Alright, whatcha want butt sniffer?”

“Don’t. Anyway, thought it be nice to hang out since school has been riding out asses with work to get us “prepared for college” which I could care less for.”

The raven-haired teen nodded. “Yeah. It’s a lot of bullshit. Ffffuck I hate being a senior.”

“I feel that,” Fenik agreed with a nod of his head. As usual, the two headed into the forest since it is their escape, and the only way that the wolves within the both of them can be let out. It’s a nice reliever since a lot of the times going out was never an option and it would make them feel cramped.

Usually, they don’t speak when out in the forest unless they do their usual practice. But for now, it was nothing but a run. Fenik in full wolf with James keeping up at an easy stride. Surprisingly, there was no clouds which let for the moon to shine bright in the sky and reflect off the snow, practically lighting their path. 

They didn’t know how long they’ve been running, but they did come to a stopping point when the two Morrisons came across a big tree. It was there they stopped and flopped down at the base at the big roots, James leaning on Fenik and a hand running through the rust-colored fur in slow strokes.

“Ya know... I’m a bit jealous you can shift and I can’t..”

“Seriously? I dunno. I’d be pretty happy with just the heightened senses n shit.”

This made for emerald eyes to look at the wolf, which in return, amber looked back at the halfling. Concern was felt on both sides. Concern for how one felt left out of things, and concern for how the other didn’t care if shifting was a thing or not. James scooted himself a bit close to be able to wrap an arm around the back of the head of the large wolf and pressed his forehead to his, letting silence overtake the quiet between he two of them.

Something happened since one moment the raven-haired teen was small in comparison to the wolf with clothes on, to suddenly not and... the same size. It was like his body just relaxed for him to suddenly shift, but the realization got for the two to jump up onto their paws and look at each other.

James now was suddenly the same height, same build. Black fur made him look like a shadow o the white snow. Vibrant green eyes stood out like unknown lights in the darkest parts of the forest. The two were quiet, before sounds of excitement left them and they became nothing but giant mounds of fur and limbs with barks and yaps leaving them.

What felt like hours of nothing but romping around in the snow, they both flopped down panting with tongues hanging out of open mouths and tails swishing in the snow. Two sets of gemstone eyes gazed up at the night sky, the moon nothing but a white orb to the side of their vision.

“I hate valentine’s, but this? This is the greatest fuckin’ gift nature let me have haha!” James boofed out, letting his paws stretch out in front of him. It felt like all his limbs were sore from being contained, and finally was allowed to be out.

“Oh trust me. Being this way is heavenly. Feels like what freedom from the system should be. And now that you can shift, we can do this a hell of a lot more. And no one can stop the hell we’ll raise.” Fenik let out a chuff, a canine version of a chuckle. The black pelted one chuffed as well before rolling onto his side and laying close to the rusted pelt one and pressed close.

They were content like that, black mixing with rust, emerald and amber. It took only a nudge from Fenik to say that it’s best they get going. James got up and shook the snow from his fur, waiting for his brother to get up. Both standing, they trotted off to the edge of the forest where they shifted back to their human selves.

“This weekend. Can... we go running again? And... maybe teach me some wolf stuff since now I can shift?”

“Hell yeah man! I’ll be waiting ‘round seven. Sound good?”

James nodded with a slight smile before it fell. There was hesitation, but Fenik could feel it and brought his brother close for a hug. He melted into it and hugged the other back. They stood like that for some beats before breaking it off and headed to their homes with goodbyes through the link. Days and nights for now on were gonna be different, but they were gonna be hella enjoyable and that feeling of being left out vanished. Everything felt right, just as it should be.