#don't look at this for too long I turned my brain off and scribbled

[sernhuh]

Relistened to coda and messy doodled him

[writersdrug]

I NEED waitress!reader accidentally letting it slip that she’s got a date after her shift and so when bartender!simon overhears, he suddenly has a list of things she needs to do after work, causing her get to stay late ))): missing her date ))):

ANGST TIME

He's been watching you like a hawk for the past two hours - and rightfully so. You've been rushing through your tasks, rolling more than enough silverware, keeping your tables happy and stocked - you somehow managed to convince Soap to mop front of house for you. He doesn't like it. Why are you trying to get away?

"Got a date tonight." You tell him, skimming through your receipts as you sit at the bar and calculate your tips. You're not off the clock yet - you still have thirty minutes left. But the restaurant's empty, and all your tasks are done. Your makeup is a little nicer today, softer and less "morning after a deftones concert".

Simon's thankful for the mask, or else his frown would be impossible to miss. Is he dumb? Haven't you been flirting with him all week? Was this another one of your games, pretending to act innocent and coy, messing with him, then announcing you're going out with someone else?!

He feels his shoulders tensing as he watches you tap away at your phone's calculator. He shouldn't be so bothered by this - some things just need to be let go. But he can't. He wants to keep you in his back pocket, or in an empty whiskey bottle on his liquor shelf - not the one behind the bar, but the personal collection in his room on the third floor.

"That's nice," he grumbles, slicing through a lime. "Jus' make sure you finish your chores 'fore you head out."

"Already did!" You chirp at him with a smile. "Just need to do my tips, and I'll be done."

"Did ya clean the ice bins?" He asks.

You furrow your brow. "Huh?"

He jerks his head to the whiteboard on the wine fridge - sure enough, your name is scribbled in, right next to "drain and wash/sanitize ice bins + buckets", along with today's date.

You look back at Simon, your expression now crestfallen. Your date is in an hour, and you still have twenty minutes on your shift. "Don't you usually do it?"

Truthfully, he does. He could do it today, in fact. But his brain is acting on thoughts before he has the chance to consider the consequences. "Can't today, luv. Preppin' for a bigger crowd tomorrow."

Your shoulders slump. "How long does it take?"

"Well, you got to turn 'em off - one by one, I can't have two empty ice bins durin' a shift - then ya dump the ice, wait for 'em to warm up, then ya go in there with soap n' a rag, rinse 'em out, then-"

"God, can this please wait until tomorrow? I'll come in early and do it, I promise."

He looks at you sternly, and you suddenly feel ashamed for asking. "Wot, so I can pay you overtime?"

"Simon, please - if you do them, I'll give you half my tips for today."

"Now y' dumpin' your work on me?"

"I've got a date!"

"I've got my own shit too!"

You snap your mouth shut. He's never been this stern with you, but you know it's well deserved. It's your chore, after all. You'd been wrong to assume he would do it himself, despite that being the usual. You quickly hop out of the barstool and make your way behind the bar, unplugging the first icebin.

Simon watches as you scurry around, running to and from the ice bin into the kitchen, filling up bucket after bucket of ice and dumping it into the sink in the back. You pace as the machine warms up, glancing at your phone every few minutes, then touching the inside of the ice maker to check the temperature. After a few minutes, you're scrubbing the machine as fast as you can with a soapy rag and a bucket of sanitizer eater next to you.

Twenty minutes have gone by. You're supposed to be on your way to your date, but you're biting your lip, staring angrily at the ice machine as it cools down again. You need to wait for it to be cold before you refill it with ice, and only then can you start on the other machine.

You make another attempt towards Simon. "If I just do one tonight and do the other in the morning-"

"No." Simon snaps, his eyes angry as he drops a container of sliced fruit onto the bar. "This is part of havin' a job."

You look away from him, tears stinging your eyes now. You're so frustrated you want to snap back at him - but he's right, isn't he? Maybe you could ask him if you could just call Max and let him know you'll be running late - but the thought of asking Simon for anything right now (other than more chores) makes you queasy.

Simon doesn't know where the anger came from, but it's still simmering. He watches as you continue to run back and forth, filling up the old ice bin, unplugging the second one, dumping the ice in the back... he's refilling the bloody Mary mix and restocking the bitters. Simple things. He's got nothing to do after this besides go up to his flat and sit in front of the telly, or maybe chat with Soap before he heads home. Why didn't he just do it? Because you had a date, and that was a problem for him. Why? Now you're upset, and it's that knowledge that makes him finally feel the shame that he'd been swallowing down.

You finish dumping the last bucket of ice into the second machine. It's forty minutes after your shift ended. You still have to get to the restaurant you and Max were meeting at, which is a twenty minute walk. You were supposed to be there ten minutes early - now you're going to be an hour late. Frustration mingles with anxiety and burns in the forefront of your mind. But you can't be mad. You should've done your job.

Simon doesn't say anything when you run to the back, your phone pressed to your ear and tears in your eyes. You barely manage a wave to Soap as you grab your bag and jacket and flounder back into the restaraunt. You don't look at Simon.

"I'm leaving now, I'm so sorry- I had to finish up at work and it too longer than I-" you slowed to a walk, then a stop, standing in the middle of the floor. Simon was frozen, watching your shoulders shake.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I had-... it's not an excuse, I promise I'm-... listen, we can go for a walk or something, right? Or go get fast food, someplace still open, just you and me, and we can try again another-"

His eyes burn in his skull as he watches you stand there for a few more seconds, staring at your phone as the call disappears from the screen. He wants to say something - but what can he say? He's already fucked you over. And he doesn't feel any better than when he first discovered your little date. He feels worse.

You stuff your phone in your back pocket, unable to hide the single, choked sob that escapes your throat. You shoulder your bag and stomp your way out of the restaurant, door clanging behind you. Your bike is still in the alley out back, and your unfinished tips are still on the bartop. He wouldn't be surprised if you never come back to collect them.

Soap emerges from the kitchen breaking Simon from his thoughts and wiping his hands on a rag. "Real feckin' kind of ye, Ghost. Never seen such a right cunt." He glares at Simon, before slapping the rag on the table and heading back into the kitchen. His shift was over, too.

Simon has three more hours left to deal with himself before the bar closes.

[yenqa]

OH! MY MISTAKE | where you can’t for the life of you, remember to call kozume by his first name.

♫ — currently playing... april

warnings – an ankle injury (briefly went over), lmk if theres more!

pairing – kenma x gn!reader

wordcount – 1094

a/n – hi guys !! hope u enjoyy lmk if u do! also this is mot proofread so sorry if its wordy or theres any typos!

kenma isn’t the kind to make many mistakes.

there are times where he’s bound to make mistakes, like when he’s out of breath and messes up his sets a little, or when he’s been playing a game for too long and too many people are talking and the pixels are moving too fast for his brain.

those are the times where he can make the excuse if that he’s too tired. but even then, he still realizes his mistake.

when you first meet him he can tell you’re the shy type. he’s not stupid after all.

he can see you fidget with anything you can latch you hands on as you're introducing yourself to the team individually.

coach nekomata has that same happy smile that he always displays. he can see you constantly look back at him for reassurance.

when you finally approach him he skips to the most important part. he doesn’t care for the formalities, and he is sure you don't care about the wellbeing of every single person on the team.

“you can just call me by my first name, kenma.”

you were taken aback by his abruptness, you hadn’t even had the opportunity to bow before he introduced himself. his face remained a monotone look, it didn’t seem like he cared for you at all.

“oh—okay! what’s your last name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

he is simply oblivious to you, so he says, “it’s kozume, but i don’t like when people call me it. so kenma is fine with me.”

“it’s nice to meet you, kenma-san. it’s an honor to be the manager this year!” you salute to him, he can sense that every bone of your body is tense, and you’re too nervous for your own good.

“it’s nice meeting you,” he pauses, then adds,”don’t take this position too seriously, you’re new, it’s okay to make mistakes and not know things.”

he figures you’re the type to need reassurance on matters like that, he almost adds that you can come to him for help, but it might’ve come off in a different way. which was the opposite of what he wanted.

a warm smile blesses your face as you nod vigorously, barely getting out a “thank you!” before he walks away.

a small smile adorns his face when he turns around while he’s so blissfully unaware of his fatal mistake.

it’s at the next practice when he first notices it.

he’s out of the locker room first as usual. sliding down the wall, he sits down a foot away from you. you’re focused on something that he isn’t sure what.

you shift in your position, quickly casting a look at him before whipping your head back.

he sees you scribbling hard on the paper, then erasing it even harder. it’s when you let out a sigh when he decides to step in.

“are you okay, y/n? do you need help with anything?”

he usually wouldn’t help anyone else, but you’re next to him already, he tells himself.

“oh! hi kozume-san! no i’m okay—just finishing this sudoku puzzle my friend gave me!”

“i told you to call me kenma, i don’t like formalities like that.”

you can feel your cheeks heating up, as you awkwared cover them with your hand you exclaim, “i’m so sorry kozu-kenma! i’ll call you that from now on!”

“it’s okay y/n. just don’t forget next time, okay?”

you agree immediately, and it works for the next couple of hours. until he makes another mistake.

he’s on the floor before he knows it, he can hear the ball slam on the floor, but he can’t ignore the throbbing pain shooting through his body.

his ankle seems to look fine, but he knows he landed wrong after jumping for the ball. he takes his ankle and massages it, it doesn’t do much but he continues to do it anyways.

he can hear a group of footsteps run to him, but his vision seems to be tunneled.

throughout the many voices he can hear yours, loud and clear. “kozume! are you okay?”

he looks up at you, “kenma.”

the team all looks at him in confusion, a few mutters of people calling him delirious.

but you, you immediately get it, your cheeks turn a slight pink shade as you offer him a helping hand.

“sorry kenma! i’ll take you to the nurse now.” he gladly takes your hand. wanting to feel the softness of it forever, but you let go once he’s up.

everyone watches as he wraps his arm around your shoulder and limps to the door, once you’re at it you look back and yell. “me and kozume-san will be back soon! so keep practicing everyone!”

it’s been four months, but still you can’t seem to get over your habit.

many things have changed over the past few months, one being that you and kenma have been dating for two of those months.

though that habit seemed to stick with you even as time went on.

“kozume!” you exclaim, wrapping your arms around him.

a small chuckle escapes his lips, he wraps his arms around you. “you’re still forgetting to call me kenma, y/n.”

“old habits die hard,” you giggle, “oh! also—you’re late for practice! tetsurou was spamming your phone with calls, did you forget?”

over time, you’ve grown much more comfortable with him, as he had with you. even though at the time his ankle seemed to be the worse thing that ever happened to him, it also happened to be the catalyst of your relationship.

he’s grateful for landing wrong fore without that small flap of a butterflies wing, he wouldn’t have memorized the shape of your lips, or the sound of your laugh, or the small moles adorning your face.

“wait—tetsurou?”

you let out a breathy laugh, “yeah he told me to call him by his first name! you don’t mind, do you?”

“you remembered to say his first name but not mine?”

“kodzu-ken i mean. i think kozume is cute! it rolls off the tongue better. i’m sorry!” you raise your hands in defeat, but he’s already walking ahead of you to practice.

you chase after him, “kodzu—kenma wait!”

planting a kiss on his cheek, you take his hand, skipping happily to practice dragging him behind.

“kozume skip with me!”

“i’m not doing that.”

kenma hates the formality of when someone calls him kozume instead of kenma, but with the way his name sounds when you say it, he can’t find it in himself to mind.

yenqa © do not copy, steal or translate.

[beffalumps]

hi there! recent art school grad here and i was wondering if u have any tips on learning color + approaching backgrounds? even though i learned a lot, i still find myself struggling with these focuses, especially colors as i never had a class that really taught me that. thanks so much 💗 your work is so lovely

First off, congrats on graduating!! Backgrounds and colors have always been the hardest for me lol tbh I still struggle a lot with colors especially, so please take everything I say with a grain of salt!

Using adjustment layers helps me a lot (especially color balance to make things more unified or complementary).

Another thing that I think has REALLY helped me with color overall is actually switching between color and grayscale.

In photoshop I set up a custom proof profile and then am able to switch back and forth by using the hotkey Ctrl + Y. This helps me check my values which, I've found if you have solid values, colors tend to work so much better even if you don't know much about what you're doing lol. Another way to do this is making a solid black layer on top of all your color layers and setting the blending mode to "Color". Then you can toggle that on and off to look at the values.

One last thing I've played with re: colors is finding a reference that has the colors I like and "crystalizing" it and color picking a palette from that.

This can be super helpful if you're having a hard time visualizing or coming up with a color palette!

As for backgrounds, they became a lot easier for me when I started looking at them like their own character. Thinking about the story I'm trying to tell, adding little details that I think would add to that or be fun and fun ways for the character to interact with it.

That and doing value sketches/just a bunch of really quick and sloppy experiments. 9 times out of 10, they don't work out, but sometimes they spark something that turns into something fun and workable!

This has gotten really long for someone that really just bs's their way through every piece, but I will say one thing that was a big game changer for me (in my personal opinion, who knows if other people think so lmao) and it's just incorporating aerial perspective. Making things a bit more blue tinted (or whatever the sky color is) and lighter as they recede into the background. Has made a huge difference for me when it comes to creating depth!

I really don't know if any of this is helpful because to be 100% honest, most of my illustrations are just product of trial and error lol. But practicing and making a lot of really bad scribbles have (I think) helped me the most, so yeah my biggest advice with anything is just look at lots of art, just draw and don't worry if it looks bad because tbh, it probably will at first. But you'll get better!

@tamberella Has a ton of amazing free resources and brushes, so if you haven't checked out their stuff, definitely do so!

@iniro also has some really nice tutorials on color (and other topics) available so I'd also recommend looking at those too!

But yeah, sorry for going on about my hair-brained process, I hope at least some of this was helpful!

[astral-disastral-catastral]

Headcanon Time!!!!

✧ He has multiple extra limbs and organs excluding eyes [.e.g. 3 arms and 3 hands, 3 hearts, 2 brains 1 extra layer of dough which the average cookie does not have that he doesn't always display] which are all functional! He likes to scare others with it.

✧ His bones don't have nearly as much sugar as most cookies [what makes cookie bones hard and sturdy] so he's concerningly flexible hence all the 90° head cocking and odd bodily positions aswell as being hypermobile [but it doesn't often cause him pain]. Funfact: he could turn his head 360° if he wanted to.

✧ When he falls asleep, the eyes on his head are closed like his actual eyes so they look like they're not there.

✧ Has a habit of biting other cookies near him that he finds hard to control/stop doing.

✧ Has purposefully eaten more than 1 cookie and very much derived joy from doing so [he thought they tasted good. Or atleast some of them did… he just killed the ones he didn't like or used them for something else].

✧ If you were to chop off any of his limbs, .e.g. his arms or legs or hands, they would regenerate quickly or he would just re-attatch them and say something like “ow” very nonchalantly.

✧ Regularly shapeshifts into things that aren't him .e.g. animals and other cookies like the ancients [mainly PV] for the fun of it, if he's bored, or to taunt and trick others.

✧ The weird looking sonic’s quills on his head is a hat!! His actual hair is light blue and white, flows majestically, is long enough to touch the ground if he decides to stop floating around all the time for once, and is very liquidy but doesn't feel wet at all [it's more soft and fluffy and smooth to the touch if anything…]. He doesn't like his hair that way and is insecure about it and it makes him angrier than he wishes to be so he always keeps his hat on. Or is it a wig or something??

✧ Is extremely touchy with PV and absolutely does not give a care in the world about boundaries. Refuses to leave him alone 80% of the time [he legit always less than 30cm away from him].

✧ The sorest loser in the world he WILL throw a fit if he cannot win something and will go out of his way to win no matter what, whether it's cheating, killing, you name it!

✧ For any cookie that isn't a beast or unconventionally massive, he's practically a giant but out of all the beasts, he's the shortest one.

✧ Sprawls out the most uncalled unwanted unnecessary unasked unfiltered comments whenever and wherever blatantly [sometimes he does it intentionally and sometimes he doesn't even get it's the wrong time or wrong at all].

✧ Really likes puppets [like a lot oh my lord]

↑ Has possessed/controlled PV various times on various occasions and has no regrets doing so.

✧ Mythomania/Pseudologia Fantastica.

✧ Enjoys drawing, scribbling, doodling and the taste/smell of crayons [regularly uses them].

✧ Acts like a 5 year old having a sugar rush 90% of the time and complains non-stop if he becomes bored and will do too much to find something to entertain himself to no longer be bored, whatever that may be…

✧ Funfact: i love him to an unhealthy extent he's my son i love him oh my god my gallery of him is almost at 2000+ images.

✧ Has weird patterns all over his body [it's a part of his dough and he cannot get rid of it anymore].

✧ His hair is completely sentient for some strange reason [he could move individual strands if he wanted to like they're extra arms and hands].

✧ Can probably play the Accordion perfectly [referencing circus of shadows…]

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Just One More

I love your SaSi fics! Might I request some touch-starved analogical? No pressure tho! *disappears in a poof of smoke, leaving a plate of cookies for you* – amateurmasksmith

hello! i'd hate to be a bother but i love your writing so much and would love to see some more logan hurt/comfort? Any type works but there isn't enough highschool au!Logan overworking himself and the others not noticing until he's completely burnt out and realising that Logan is a lot more damaged than they thought in my opinion <3- anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: overworking, burn out

Pairings: analogical

Word Count: 2377

Just one more. Just one more. Just one more.

It's been just one more for the past hour and a half, but that's beside the point. If he thinks about how much he still has to do, he'll get so overwhelmed he can't do anything but stare at the mountains of work piling up in front of him. But if he thinks about it as just one more, then he can do just one more. And he'll do it over and over and over again until there aren't any one mores to be just.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. He's getting lyrical again. Anytime he starts to wax poetic he knows Roman's overworking tendencies are rubbing off on him again.

Now, that's not to say that Roman always overworks, it's just that out of their friend group, one of them has this habit of pulling all-nighters and downing coffee as though it could replace the blood in his veins if he tried hard enough, and one of them has a color coded schedule that marks out just how much he can get away with before he has to take a break to drink water, eat food, or recover some semblance of sanity before he loses it to equations and spreadsheets beyond number. Said schedule might have been, ahem, put off for a little bit too long in order to allow for such repeated actions as just one more, but that's beside the point. Beside several points, actually, and he'd rather not think about it right now when he should be focusing on the just one mores.

His pen scribbles down the answer and without blinking, he picks up the page and flips it over so he can start working on the next problem. He's already broken down the respective equations by the time his brain catches up to the fact that this is not, in fact, just one more.

Just one more.

What time is it? He doesn't know. He doesn't particularly care. He has work to do, that's far more important. Besides, it's not as though he'll suffer egregiously if he works a little later than he's supposed to. He's the one who allocates his time, if he has an issue with how he's spending it, he'll take it up with himself later. After this one. After this next one. Just one more.

He blinks. Oh, his eyes were closed. That's annoying. How is he supposed to work with his eyes closed? His gives his head a good shake and promptly cries out from the pain. That's bizarre, when did his headache get so bad? He's supposed to drink water every fifteen minutes to keep his fluid intake constant, and that helps keep the headaches at bay. He reaches out blindly for the water bottle and gropes thin air. That's weird. His water bottle should be right there. He turns his head to look—

He cries out in pain again. That's not right. Why is his neck so sore? He's supposed to take breaks to look around to make sure his muscles don't get too stiff from staring at the same place all day. Come to think of it, he's also supposed to be doing his eye relaxation too to make sure he doesn't focus in too hard and risk losing his peripheral vision. Granted, that is more common in fields where attention to fine detail is much more common, but it can't hurt to be cautious. In this case, it's hurting him not to be cautious. Perhaps he's focused in too deep…missed the forest for the trees…and now it's hard to see…isn't it a challenge to be free?

Now he's rhyming.

What time is it?

His hand flops uselessly down to the side. It's burning. Is it burning? No, pins and needles, that's the term. That's the term for when his circulation isn't making it all the way to the end of his fingers, why is that? How can that be? It hasn't been that long, has it? He has work to do, he can't have been so careless with his time that he's forgotten he has work to do? No, he'll rally himself to do just one more.

Just one more.

His hand clatters uselessly against the desk.

Just one more.

His notebook slides off into his lap and splays out on the floor like a corpse.

Just one more.

His eyes slide shut.

Just one more.

He falls forward.

Just one more.

He hits the desk and something is—is—

Just one more.

***

Alright, Virgil's getting nervous.

Not that it's a wild thing for Virgil to get nervous, but it is wild that it's Logan that's making him nervous. Logan's like the beacon of work-life balance, which is why it's fucking weird that Logan of all people isn't here, at breakfast, like they planned last week and confirmed literally every day up until yesterday. Yeah. That's weird. Logan's not here and he's almost a full hour late and Virgil is getting pretty fucking nervous about it.

The clock keeps ticking. And ticking. And ticking.

When it ticks over to yep, Logan's officially a full hour late, Virgil muffles a curse and gets up, stuffing his hands in his pockets. The wind billows around his hood as he hurries across the street, ducking cars and avoiding other people walking around as the sun gets higher and higher and higher. Logan's street isn't far from here, just a few blocks over. His fingers itch at the sound of many passing conversations but he squeezes his hands shut.

No time for music, not right now. Not when he's on a mission.

Logan should've texted if he was running late. Logan always texts when he's running late. And the fact that he hasn't texted saying he's running late means that something is wrong with Logan or something's wrong with Virgil's phone. And given that their group chat has been blowing up all morning as Roman and Janus argue about some video game franchise and who's hotter and who's overrated means that Virgil's phone is working just fine.

So something's wrong with Logan. Which is making Virgil really fucking nervous.

He doesn't even realize his feet have carried him all the way up the stairs to Logan's house until his hand is raised to knock on the door. He does, shuffling a few paces back and waiting until the footsteps on the other side get closer.

"Oh, Virgil," Logan's mom says as she opens the door, "it's good to see you, honey. Are you and Logan still going out for breakfast?"

"Yes, uh, yes, ma'am. I think so, at least."

"You don't need to call me ma'am, honey, you can come in." She waves him inside, smiling kindly when he mumbles something along the lines of I want to 'cause you're always so nice to me, and turns up the stairs. "Logan! Logan, sweetheart, Virgil's here!"

No response. Yep, getting real nervous.

"Do you want to go up, honey? He'll react better if it's you getting him than me."

"Is—is everything okay?"

She looks at him for a moment, her mouth twisting from side to side, before she sighs. "Honestly, I think you've got a better chance of dragging him out of there than I do. He's very reasonable, isn't he? Always coming up with the perfect explanation for what he's doing."

"Uh huh."

"Which is why I think you've got a better chance of just dragging him out to go to breakfast, hm?" She winks as Virgil splutters slightly. "I'm only teasing you, honey. But on a serious note: please, if you can get him out of the house just for a little, I think some fresh air would do him good."

"I'll do my best, ma'am."

"That's a good boy. Go on, now."

Virgil quickly makes his way up the stairs, down the hall, right to Logan's door. Remus made them all signs for their rooms that indicate whether or not they're cool with having people come knock on their doors and for the most part, everyone's parents and siblings have respected them. Logan's has four different markers: Out, In – Disturbable, In – Not Disturbable, and Asleep. The pin is still listed next to Out.

Yep. Yep, yep, yep. All signs lead to being real nervous.

He knocks on the door. "Logan? Hey, L, it's, uh, it's Virgil."

Nothing.

"You, um, you didn't text saying you were late or anything, so I, uh, I got worried."

Still nothing.

"Logan? Logan, I need some sort of sign of life, buddy, or else I'm gonna come in."

When there's yet another round of nothing, he grits his teeth and carefully opens the door, preparing to meet an angry Logan who was just about to text you, Virgil, there wasn't any need for this, or a sleepy Logan who accidentally overslept—it happens, it might have only happened, like, once, but it is possible—or even a Logan who's just about to put his coat on and rush out, but…

But not the Logan who's passed out on his desk, his glasses still on his face and his notebook on the floor.

"Holy shit," Virgil mumbles, rushing over, "Logan? Logan, are you okay?"

He carefully lifts up Logan's arm to get his glasses off his face, wincing at the puddle of drool. The movement makes this high-pitched noise happen and he only belatedly realizes that's Logan making that noise—Logan's still asleep, somehow, but he's—oh, god, Logan's in pain.

"Hey, L," he calls quietly, giving Logan's shoulder a gentle shake, "hey, you gotta wake up, buddy, it's just me, okay? C'mon…"

"V-Virgil?"

"Hey, yeah, you got it, it's me—" he crouches down so Logan can see him— "hey, there he is."

Logan blinks. He's all bleary-eyed and sleep-mussed, his hair sticking up in the wrong places and a crease from where he'd been leaning against his shirt. He blinks a few more times, wincing at the sunlight slanting in through the window, before he cringes and brings a hand to his neck.

"Whoa, hey, what's going on?"

"Hurts."

"What hurts, bud?"

"My head," he whimpers, fuck, okay, Logan's really not okay, "my head hurts."

"Okay. I'm gonna go get you some water, okay? Can I go and do that?"

"Don't leave—wait, please—" a hand grabs his arm as he goes to pull away and Logan lets out another frightened noise— "it's so cold. You're so warm."

"I'm—I'm the warm one? Whoa, hey, hey, hey, I didn't mean it like that," he says, softening his tone when Logan shrinks back, "I just meant that—you know, I run cold as hell and you're…"

He trails off when he sees the tears bubbling at the corners of Logan's eyes. He comes back immediately, going to wrap his arms around Logan's shaking shoulders, muffling a curse when Logan just starts crying harder.

"Hey, hey, buddy, hey, it's okay. I'm right here, I'm not gonna go anywhere, I'm right here. I've got you, you're okay. You're all good, buddy, you hear me? Everything's gonna be okay, you're gonna get all of this out for me, I'm gonna go get you some water and painkillers for your headache, and then we're gonna go get breakfast and have a good day, yeah?"

"I'm sorry—I'm so sorry—"

"Hey, don't worry about it. You know how many times I've been late or missed something? I don't care about that, L, I care about you being okay." He runs his fingers through Logan's hair and Logan shudders. "You…you seem really sensitive right now, bud, have you…have you been dodging Patton's hugs again?"

Logan's silence is telling. Virgil sighs, his breath warming the top of his head, before he pulls away just enough to hook his arms around Logan's waist.

"C'mon," he grunts, lifting Logan up—yes, he is still strong enough to do that, thank you very much, Princey—and carrying him over to the bed, "you need a good cuddle before we go anywhere."

"So much—I had so much work to do, I hadda—I had to finish it, I'm sorry," Logan babbles into Virgil's shoulder as he situates them on the bed, "I didn't—didn't wanna be late, didn't mean to fall asleep, I—"

"Shh, shh, hey, calm down, it's okay. I'm not mad. You're okay, bud, I'm not gonna do anything." He coaxes Logan's head to the crook of his beck. "You're just gonna get some of this out for me, okay? I've got you, you're okay."

"But I gotta do my work!"

"You gotta not let yourself be a wreck first," Virgil points out, not unkindly, "you're stressing yourself out too much and it's gonna be okay, but you gotta—sheesh, Logan, just lemme cuddle you."

"…okay."

It doesn't matter that they end up going to brunch instead of breakfast, not when Logan's finally smiling again. A little sniffly, maybe, but he's at least smiling and his mom ruffles their hair and tells them to order whatever they want—she'll pay them back. No, it's much better because Logan isn't stressing too much about work but instead he's happy and letting Virgil take them on a long walk around the park until they can meet up with the rest of them and Patton can give him a big hug because letting yourself get touch-starved just so you can do your work isn't healthy, Logan. And then of course everyone else wants to hug Logan because Logan's just so huggable.

"Aw, just one more," Remus pouts when Logan says they're all hugging him too much, "just one more?"

Logan looks at Remus, looks at the rest of them, and rolls his eyes fondly as he holds out his arms.

"Just one more."

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs@el-does-photography@princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl@raven1508

[julesthequirky]

Theirs: Chapter One

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You've just moved back to Helena after getting fired from your previous job. Desperate for cash you become a dancer at a strip club. Strong-willed and independent, you've never needed a man, that is until you meet the handsome Sheriff of Helena. Gentle and considerate, he melts your heart in a way no Alpha could. Then there's Dean (not Winchester). Rough-around-the-edges, with tattoos covering him from head to toe, and a heated stare that makes your heart race. But an Omega can only have one Alpha, right? That's what you've been taught. Only neither one will concede to the other, and you find yourself unable to choose.

Characters: You, OC Lou, mystery man.

Chapter warnings: Adult language, transgender OC (though, I don't truthfully see her as transgender anymore as she's fully transitioned).

W/C: 1, 609

A/N: I haven't abandoned The Choice, so don't worry! :) I'm going to try and post alternating chapters.

You sat on the lumpy couch, surrounded by boxes scribbled with ‘kitchen’ or ‘bedroom’ on. You didn’t have the energy just yet to start unpacking. With your head in your hands, you assessed how you came to be here, in your aunt’s trailer, back in Helena, with no job and your bank account quickly dwindling.

It was simple. You’d fucked up. Punched your boss in the nose, and oh, God, it had sprayed like a fountain, but in your defence, he’d said one too many derogatory things about Omegas behind your back, and you’d had enough.

With your finances in dire straits, you could no longer afford the blockers that kept your heat away. If you didn’t figure things out pretty quickly, you’d be going through Hell soon.

You surveyed the boxes scattered around the living area. This was your life. If you’d held your anger…Hell, even counted to ten, or even a hundred…then maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t be in this situation… However, feeling sorry for yourself was gonna get you nowhere. You knew that. But you couldn’t help it.

Your phone buzzed beside you. You sighed and picked it up. It was an old-school friend you hadn’t spoken to in years. You tapped on the DM, instantly opening up the app.

Lou: Heard y’all were back in town. We should meet up, grab a drink, and catch up! XXX

The image in the profile portrayed a woman with long brown hair and bright blue eyes that you definitely recognised. She sure looked familiar. And as you wracked your brains, it came to you. She used to be a he.

No way. You smiled, remembering how Lou was in school. You’d catch them staring off into space, watching girls go about their activities as you both sat on the bleachers. You thought that maybe Lou fancied them. Guess not. Just going through some things and trying to understand who they were, just like you and everyone else. And maybe she did fancy girls as well. You weren’t gonna judge.

By the looks of it, Lou still went by Lou, as her profile name indicated. You fired back a message telling her you’d be delighted to. It would be good to catch up with an old friend. You wondered where she was in life. Hopefully in a better place than you were.

That’s exactly what you did. You dug into your suitcase, found a shimmery little number and donned your favourite cowboy boots for comfort.

*

You returned to your old stomping ground, The Silver Dollar. It was old as dirt, with old wood built into a classic saloon style. And it was packed. Bodies heaved as you pushed your way through, looking for Lou, memorising the image from her social media account.

A mix of scents accosted your nose. Beta colognes and perfumes that made your nose itch, earthy Alpha scents and the occasional sweeter scent of an Omega.

Heads turned as you made your way through to the bar, whereupon Lou sat on a stool, drinking a beer.

She looked amazing. Barely recognisable from her old self, but you guessed that was the whole point. She had a great figure, jeans that hugged her in all the right places and a low-cut top to show off her ample cleavage. Fuck. You were jealous and found you were quickly developing a girl crush.

Lou slid off her seat and enveloped you in a hug. You wrapped your arms around her, giving her a meaningful hug. It felt good to be here. Maybe getting fired wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

When she pulled back, she whistled.

“Look at you. You look so grown up.”

You laughed. Grown-up was right.

“What about you. You’re the one that’s changed much more than me.”

Lou grinned from ear to ear. And your heart almost burst with happiness for her. She nodded, grabbed her beer and took a sip.

“High school was a struggle. I didn’t show it cause it was a me thing. I thought I just fancied girls, but I somehow knew it was more than that. I didn’t wanna just be with a girl. I wanted to be one.”

Lou had been one of your best friends in school, and you regretted not keeping in touch with her. Life moved quickly in those years, and before you knew it, ten years had passed.

“Well, I’m really sorry I didn’t keep in touch. I should’ve.”

Lou waved a hand dismissively.

“Naw, I was Hell to be around when I was transitioning. Who knew oestrogen was a bitch. Felt like I was experiencing puberty all over again.”

You laughed and nodded. Being a woman certainly came with its hormonal challenges.

“Anyway, look at you. Gunna catch everyone’s eye in that.”

You looked down at the silver sequined dress. You were a damn glitterball. You blushed, suddenly bashful of the attention.

She grabbed the bartender’s attention and waved him over.

“What’s your poison?”

“Jim Bean and coke.”

She slammed her hand on the bartop.

“And that’s what you’ll have. Barkeep! Make my stunning friend her drink of choice!”

You laughed, cheeks hurting from laughing so much. It felt good to let loose. And Lou certainly was mesmerising.

Lou insisted on paying for your first drink. No matter how much you protested, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

The first whiskey and coke went down way too easily. As did the second. And the third.

You drank to forget your problems. And to have a good time.

Lou rested her hand on your shoulder.

“I know a troubled soul when I see one. What’s up?”

You shrugged.

“Jus’ ev’rythin’.”

You turned, giving her your attention.

“It’s dumb. But the reason why I came back is cause I got fired. I haven’t found a job yet, and I’m kinda panicking.”

A look of concern crossed her face, and the hand on your shoulder squeezed gently.

“It’s a shitty situation. But you’re back home. You got your family, and you got me. What about your Alpha?”

You snorted.

“Ain’t got one of them.”

“Well…take your pick. We got an abundance of ‘em in Helena. An’ for no damn reason…” She trailed off and raised her beer bottle to her lips again.

“If I don’t find a job real soon, a bunch of them might be hammering down my door when I go into heat.”

“If it’s a job you want, I got an idea. You might not like it. Just how desperate are you?”

“I’d do anything. Hell, I’m at the point where I might just go and stand on the damn street corner. That’s how desperate I am.”

She hmmed. She twisted her body to reach for something in her bag. It was a pen and a jotter. She scribbled something down and passed the sticky note to you. It was a number.

“Just remember, I told you you might not like it, but seeing as you’re desperate. It’s easy money. Great money, in fact. I worked there for a little while, too, so I can put in a good word.”

Your eyebrows raised. “Thanks. You didn’t have to, y’know.”

“Just…wear that dress, and you’ll be right in.”

“Lou…” You said in a warning tone.

You didn’t understand why you’d have to wear a silver dress to a job interview. And you knew she was withholding information.

She sighed.

“Fine. It’s a strip club,” she started, raising her hands up, seeing you about to protest. “It’s really good money, just call the number. You won’t regret it.”

You had reservations. For one, it was a strip club. And you were an Omega. That limited what you could do. You weren’t sure you were that desperate. Yet. Regardless, you tucked the Post-It in your cowboy boot for safekeeping.

“Atta girl. Now, let’s just get shit-faced.”

That you had no problem in agreeing to.

Plenty of drinks later, you and Lou giggled like schoolgirls into your drinks, heads leant close together.

“C’mon, tell me, when you were all healed, how often did you touch yourself?”

Lou giggled and leant even closer, her voice dropping, just for you to hear.

“Girl, I got so wet over the stupidest things. Had my fingers inside myself more than out. Thank you, Dr Warren, for blessing me with such a great pussy.”

You giggled into your drink. You could attest to getting horny over dumb things. Thankfully, you’d calmed down, but those late teen years had been something else.

“I remember shaving my vajayjay for the first time, and I found myself hella horny. Like, nobody tells you that! I think I humped the armrest of my couch just to get some kind of relief.”

She snorted. Then you heard the rumbling of a deep chuckle.

“Sure would have found some relief under my tongue, that’s for sure.”

He said it quietly. More to himself than to anyone.

You turned to the owner of the deep masculine voice, a retort ready on your tongue, but it died the moment you saw the burly giant of a man.

His eyes pierced yours. You couldn’t tell if they were brown or hazel. Tendrils of hair framed his face, and the rest was pulled up in a bun. Tats covered his arms, neck, and every bit of skin on his body, as evident from the massive hole in his muscle tee. He held a tumbler with amber liquid inside, swilling the contents, and your eyes honed in on his fingers, where intricate patterns covered each digit.

He was a modern-day Viking.

Then you felt it. The slight quiver in your pussy.

Tags: @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch

[aloeboba]

Heating pad

A/N: I'm backish but todomomo has been on my brain this whole year and I'm miserable so I have brought an offering.

Synopsis: Momo can't seem to get rid of her cramps so Shoto volunteers to snuggle

Fluff / University AU / Domestic / Periods / No quirks

"Momo, are you still cramping?" Shoto asks after a little while of quiet studying, pulling out the pencil he had slipped behind his ear and beginning to scribble something down on a note card beside his laptop, focused on his work.

A soft groan sounds from her place on the bed. "Yes."

He scratches his head with his pencil, looking over what he wrote. "And did you take the ibuprofen I gave you earlier?"

"Yes."

Shoto leans back in his desk chair, hands behind his head as he slightly rocks back and forth. "And you're not feeling better at all?" He turns in his chair to look at Momo and his heart softens at the sight of her snuggled up in bed in one of his hoodies and unfortunately feeling immense pain.

"Oh, I don't know what's wrong with me." Momo groans and covers her eyes, lightly rubbing them with the palms of her hands. "It's been long enough. The pain killers should have kicked in by now..."

He blinks slowly and purses his lips, raising from his chair and approaching the side of the bed. "I've read that endorphins can help get rid of cramps." He lightly touches her knee over the comforter.

"Yes, I've read that, too." Momo replies, still rubbing her eyes. "What do you suggest?"

Before she can open her eyes again, Shoto has quickly and comfortably snuggled up beside her, wrapping his arm over her torso and his body heat already warming her up.

Momo's lips form into a small 'o' shape but she doesn't resist the cuddles or close proximity. He raises his head and kisses her cheek and nestles his face in the crook of her neck. "I mean, it's worth a try, right?"

"And if this doesn't work, we'll go on a walk or something. Exercising is supposed to help as well." He inhales the smell of her hair; roses. Like always.

"Right." Momo weakly nods her head with a small smile.

Her body tenses when she feels another cramp in her abdomen and Shoto feels this, quickly moving his hand down to her lower stomach, brushing his thumb over it for a moment and kissing her cheek again. "You'll be alright." He whispers with a small but encouraging smile.

His hands were either weirdly hot or cold and luckily today they were running hot, like a personal heating pad just for her. Momo let's out a small laugh before musing. "You're the best heating pad..."

Shoto quietly scoffs, pressing his body a bit closer to hers. "I'm your best everything."

She closes her eyes, humming an amused little laugh to which he responds by kissing the side of her head and tracing slow shapes onto the lower part of her stomach. "I guess you're right." Momo finds his other hand and squeezes it affectionately. "...I can't promise I won't fall asleep and I don't want to keep you away from your tasks so if you feel like moving, you can."

"I need a break so it's fine." He presses his cheek against her shoulder. "You sleeping isn't going to deter me from staying. I'd much rather be right here with you than anything else."

Momo turns her head and kisses the top of his head with a content smile. "Then I guess it's okay..."

He nods his head, closing his eyes with her until they both nod off to sleep.

AO3

[literaryvein]

Would you hang or would you sink? Flutter like butterfly or moth? Freeze over or return to ash?

These questions were asked at the tail end of September. I was planning to answer them. But then I started to see the same questions cropping up, with beautiful answers, from handfuls of poets. What did you do with all those lovely answers?

Who are you, dear stranger? Is it time now to unmask?

Have you found the answers you were looking for?

And because I have far too much caffeine in my system & I have another cup, I'll be answering other messages that have stagnated in my inbox & I'm sorry it took this long & I don't know how this will go...

All good, dear Anon! I have too many sideblogs for my own good.

I don't use anything fancy. I'm the least "tech"-y person ever. I literally just use any default notes app, or my outdated, but trusty, MS Word app, then take screenshots & use whichever editing app is currently available to me to copy/paste, and move around my screenshots & photos. (Sometimes I edit the colours and all that, but even that gets too complicated for me.)

It quite literally feels like the virtual equivalent of making scrapbooks. Like when you paste/glue/tape down magazine cutouts, cropped newspaper articles, torn pages from your favourite books, and your own personal photos & journal entries on the pages of a notebook your best friend from catholic school gave you a lifetime ago, and you scribble poetry excerpts on the margins for good measure. (Okay, maybe this is too specific but, I hope this answered your question. And PLEASE share with me your art blog, if you're okay with that. And also, don't apologise for the confusion & the slow brain, because—same here.)

SHORT ANSWER: Default notes & editing apps.

I believe these were from the same Anon. This as well.

All I know of you, dear Anon, are these words. And to me, you seem far too kind for this world. I have told you previously that I wanted to keep your first message in my inbox forever. Like it was a precious commodity, like it wasn't meant for me—a love letter that was sent to the wrong address by mistake.

And it feels the same with your recent messages. I, once again, didn't want the world to get its greedy hands on them. I have lost far too many treasured things & people in this way. One way or another, we learn about the opposite of kindness, and of loss, from the world's touch. Perhaps it is loss that teaches people to become selfish and greedy themselves. It seems, to me, dear Anon, that your kindness is streaked with wisdom. And it seems to me that your wisdom is rooted in some kind of pain (but what do I know of kindness or wisdom?). And yet, with mere words, you turn this pain into a blanket of sorts that wards off the cold.

There is warmth here. And it thaws my heart when you say you have gifted these words to others too. They deserve your light. Keep sharing it with them, please. Because your kindness (particularly in that final paragraph) is wasted on someone like me. Because it's far too late for me. But more importantly, I hope you turn all this warmth & light & kindness inward, too.

Anons like these... You take my heart && you throw it into the deep end. Sometimes it floats & the sun feels nice on my face. Most times, my heart sinks. & underneath it all, I could feel the fish's eyes on me.

(But you are far too kind, dear Anons. Just getting lovely messages like these make my account way overrated. Only 2 people were meant to see this. & god, maybe. No one was meant to read my words for this long—for years. My mind is having a hard time fully grasping that. But definitely no offense taken, dear Anon. Your question is very sweet & appreciated. I know the things I post here can be quite dark. Sometimes I need to take the nameless heaviness inside me & turn it into words & nauseating experimental scrapbook-esque edits I concoct thoughtlessly & haphazardly in between trying to live what's left of my life. Because sometimes that's how the light filters in through the waves & reaches me. Maybe we have different definitions of love, dear Anon. But what I'm trying to say is—I hope it's not as dark wherever you are. I hope the sun feels nice on your face. I hope the fishes don't bother you too much. I hope you find a new favourite tumblr account, because this one's a mess & always will be, and unfortunately, there's far too much gravity here.)

I feel drained & deflated. I'll answer other questions/messages again soon. In the meantime, tell me more, dear stranger. Ask your perplexing questions, write me untitled poetry, send your letters to the wrong address, scream into the void.

[cyb3rscoups]

Pretty Woman AU (Part 6)

Long time no see 🫡

Full Collection also if you haven’t check out my ‘The Glory AU’ featuring our favorite couple

“I’m Shuri.” The girl stuck her hand out for Okoye to take. She glanced back at Attuma, too nose deep in files and a cup of coffee to notice the interaction.

“Okoye.” She chuckled, taking her hand hesitantly and flinching as Shuri shook it wildly.

“You must be quite the woman to thaw that asshole’s heart.” Shuri muttered, gesturing to the boss behind them as he worked.

Attuma tsked from his desk but said nothing as he let them talk.

“I don’t know about that.” Okoye’s cheeks flushed at the compliment as her hands fidgeted with the hem of her skirt.

“Come on, girl. Don't be coy. How’d you do it?” Shuri pulled her in a bit too close with a mischievous smirk accessory to her glimmering eyes.

The question made Okoye tense. They still hadn’t talked about what to say when some one inquired about their relationship. Words ran like chickens with their heads cut off as she tried to settle on something between, "I make him cum like three times a night," and "I'm not quite sure honestly."

Attuma glanced up, noting the uneasiness in Okoye’s form and cleared his throat harshly. “Thank you Shuri. I don’t pay you to mingle with my girlfriend.”

“Right. Well, nice to meet you anyways, Okoye. Should I order lunch for you two?” Shuri rolled her eyes, releasing Okoye’s hand.

“No. We'll be off soon.” He glared at the girl and scoffed her vivacious personality as she left, making sure to turn the lock on her way out.

Okoye let out a breath of relief and stumbled into the chair in front of his desk with a sigh. “She is overwhelming isn’t she?”

“She does good work.” He shrugged as he watched her catch her breath from the overstimulating interaction.

A comfortable silence settled into the room as Attuma scribbled across some papers, marking notes and suggestions in some spaces.

His jaw clenched in focus as his body stayed tensed forward in the chair. A big contradiction to Okoye’s slouching form in the chair.

“So..girlfriend?” Her lips tugged to a smirk as she toyed with the name plate on his desk.

“Yes. Girlfriend.”

“You didn’t ask me to be your girlfriend yet.”

She could see the gears turn and creak in his brain as the furrow in his brows deepened. “I have to ask you? At this point in our relationship? Seriously?”

Okoye rolled her eyes at his confusion. After all, he did promise her the fairytale life. She believed this came with it. She wanted it more than ever.

“You don’t want me as your girlfriend?” She pouted.

“Do I want you as my girlfriend? Okoye, I want to you to marry me.” He scoffed, finally lifting his head to look at her face. That beautiful face, one that held a new level of astonishment he hadn't seen before.

“S-seriously?”

“One day, yes.” He suddenly felt shy under her as she went through her array of thoughts and emotions. Had he said too much?

“Ask me.” Okay, maybe not.

“Excuse you?”

“You dumbass! Ask me to marry you!” Okoye hopped up from her seat and scurried around his desk, setting his papers to the side so she could sit on the glossy wood.

“Baby. Think rationally right now.” Attuma leaned back in his chair with a blush across his tanned cheeks.

“I am. I love you. You love me..right?” Okoye swung her feet and her heels flew off with a clatter to the floor.

“Yes. More than anything.”

“Then ask me to marry you.” She said it as if it was the simplest concept in the world. Maybe in her head it was.

“Okoye-“ The woman in question leaned forward, dragging his chair til he sat flush between her thighs. She rested the appendages on his shoulders.

“So you don’t want to marry me?”

Attuma could feel the cloud of uncertainty hover over him as she looked at him as if he was all she wanted. And if she kept it up, he might just marry her tomorrow. “Come on! Let’s put some time between us before we jump like that. We’ve only known each other 3 weeks.”

“Pussy. My parents got married after 3 days.” She giggled at the story and Attuma rolled his eyes.

“They were wasted and fucked over the head in Vegas.”

That didn’t snub her desire at all. “Attuma. Ask me to marry you.”

He braced his hands to her thighs, bringing them up and trailing them with soft kisses. “I love you. You know this. But we need time. So, for now, will you be my girlfriend?”

“I want to be your wife.”

“And we will get there, Okoye. Right now is not the time and you know it.”

Okoye crossed her arms as she looked down at the pleading man. One day, she thought. But for now, “Yes. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

“Wonderful. Should we seal it with a date tonight?”

“Where to?” She perked in curiosity.

“Ever been to the opera?”

———

“You look beautiful.”

“Easy for you to say..You won’t be bald.” Okoye went for her wig as it laid idle on the sink.

Attuma caught her wandering hand, bringing it to his lips with a smile. “You look beautiful. And anybody that says otherwise can answer to me.”

“Thank you.” She blushed as he kissed down her wrists to her fingertips. “You know this’ll be my first time not covering it up in public.”

“And for that, I have a gift.”

“Attuma, you’ve given me enough.”

“Hardly.”

He broke away from her and went into the closet. He dug around before pulling out a slender velvet box and bringing it back to her. “It was delivered today. Had to get you out the house so you wouldn’t open it.”

Okoye gasped. No wonder he was so insistent on her accompanying him to work. All that ramble about not wanting to be apart made sense now.

“Can I open it now?”

“It is yours isn’t it.”

“Yeah…guess it is.” She smiled as she carefully took the box and opened it. Inside was a necklace more glamorous than anything she’d ever seen. Diamonds encrusted and covered the chain, making it glimmer in the simple bathroom light. “Oh my…”

“Don’t ask how much it cost. Just know it was enough to see that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“The one where you think you’re gonna cry from being so fucking happy.”

Okoye nodded, tears brimming her lash line as he took the necklace from the box and began to fix it around her neck. "I am crying." She tilted her head up and dropped the box to fan her eyes as the water threatened to fall tremendously.

"Oh Okoye. Maybe we should stay in tonight." His eyes glossed over with a look she knew too well.

"No! We can sex it up later but I am too dressed up for it to go to waste like this." She pried his hands from her body and grabbed her clutch, promptly exiting the bathroom before he had a chance to seduce her further.

The car ride was long. Okoye even had time for a quick nap on Attuma's shoulder before they arrived. She was woken up when he nudged her forward until her body jerked up suddenly.

She smacked his arm as he chuckled at her before stepping out of the car and holding his hand out for her to take.

"Wait...I'm not ready."

"Okoye. I will not let anyone say or do anything to you that you don't feel comfortable with. Do you understand me?"

Okoye shook her head as her leg began to shake and her hands were not able to relax. Attuma slid back into the car, cradling her cheeks and planting a kiss to her lips. Her body went lax as she allowed herself to feel nothing but him and his lips against hers.

Slowly, he pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers in replacement.

"It's gonna be okay. I won't leave your side and when you're ready to go home, I want you to squeeze my hand as hard as you can. Okay?"

"Okay." Her voice came out shaky and kind of weak as she tried to reassure herself in her head as much as he had out loud.

Attuma stepped out the car again, stretching his hand out for her to hold. Okoye took a deep breath as she met him and stepped out of the vehicle herself. "Good." He praised her as she adjusted her dress. "You look amazing. The show is going to be amazing, we are going to have a nice time, we will mingle and we will get the fuck out of here so fast-"

Okoye laughed at his rant, squeezing his hand lightly. "Nervous?" She teased.

"Me? No. You know who should be nervous? Everybody in that goddamn theater. They'll have the limited opportunity to breathe the same air as the most beautiful woman on the face of the Earth. They should be bowing at your feet at this moment, incompetent assholes they are." He smirked as she continued to laugh at his nonsense.

"Shut up! Oh my god!"

"No. I will never shut up about you. You'd have to kill me before I ever shut up about you."

Okoye's laughter left a smile on her face as Attuma looked down at her in nothing short of pure admiration and love. He was in love and he wouldn't deny it or deprive the fact from anyone who wanted to know.

"Okoye..will you marry me?"

@theeblackmedusa @tvreadsandsleep @pilesofpillows @xblackreader @mamajankyy @dontruinmymorning @attoye

[glittercake]

could you go into your writing process a bit? i’ve been a fan of your fics for years now, and i still find myself in awe of how you’re able to create these cohesive worlds and voices and dynamics and just how tight your writing is. like i never feel like anything should be cut and even if all the loose ends aren’t tied up, i feel like it ends right where it should. like i’m so curious to see how your brain turns out so much magic!!

Oh my gosh, this is so nice of you to say 😭 Thank you first of all!  Secondly, I'll try to map out my process for big wips below the cut! Hope it makes sense 🤭 But this ask literally put a smile on my face all day, so thanks again. 

So to start off, I usually have a good idea of exactly how the story should end. That helps big time with everything else. If I don't know kind of what happens in the middle and exactly how it should end, I really struggle. 

Then I have a separate doc where I write down all my notes or thoughts about the stories, and also do the outlines. The story ideas come either extremely randomly, like me falling down a rabbit hole of presidential assassinations on YouTube (y'all know what this resulted in) or they're a result of my friend and i spiraling about something in the DMs (lighthouse, boxing fic, soulmate fics, most of the horny ones too 😂)

I also like to gather some pics just to get an idea of what the characters look like in whatever universe I'm writing about, as well as the scenery and buildings/layout. So for example, i used these inspo pics for The First Gentleman:

So every time I open the doc to write I'd have these, the outline, and the notes open. Other visuals like the banner or graphics I make also help put me in the right mindset for the story.

So, before I start writing, I draft an outline. I try to keep it brief tbh, the longer and more involved the outline the more intimidating the story feels which means less chance of me actually writing it 😅 (there are about 3 outlines that will probably never see the light of day!) but brief doesn't always work so what i do, especially for long wips, is make a short bullet list for what needs to happen in each chapter.

This way i can accommodate plot bunnies, shift stuff around and kill the darlings before i get too attached, i usually also have a few key scenes in my head and i then fit them in here. Outlines also include stuff like a quick character write up like age, quirks, bad habits, cute habits or sayings they have (in Ain't No Grave they had this cute back and forth "keep up now" or in Ruins Bucky called everyone meatballs.)

This is roughly what a chapter outline looks like for me:

lmaooo. as you can see it's very informal. basically a scribble.

Usually when I'm super inspired, i can get going straight away, otherwise I let it turn over in my head a little bit until i come up with a good starting point. What also helps me cement the character voices and specific characteristics is re-watching whatever source media it relates to. So for me it's always Cap 2 & 3 and TFATWS, Endgame where Sam gets the shield, and Sam’s scene in AoU and Antman.

I prefer to write in order from start to finish. I find I lose interest too quickly if I don't. Having a point to work toward is easier for me. BUT at the bottom of the notes/outline doc I also have a section for scenes that I absolutely can't get out of my head and need to write down right the fuck now. For example Monica’s induction in TFG was written waaay before anything else, so was the sambucky reunion in that fic. But, because I placed it at the bottom of a separate doc, the fic was still technically written in order 😌 makes perfect sense, I know lol.

Then whenever I finish a bullet point in the outline, I color it off the list. This process helps me keep track of what has been done and what still needs to happen. Seeing how much I've completed also really helps to keep me motivated, plus the colors are fun! Helps with sticking to what i had planned too, i find if i don't follow outlines, the scenes and characterization kind of jump all over the place. Mostly i only have some time on weekends to write so knowing exactly what i need to write and how i need to write it beforehand is key to me. Having the outline done before I start means I have a week to play those scenes out in my head or play with the dialogue until it sounds right. 

If I get stuck, I read either a book or my favorite fics, do some art, or just leave it be until inspo strikes again.

And I think that’s about it. Don’t know if this is what you were looking for but there you have it 😂 

💕 

I’m always happy to get asks about my fics and writing, so don’t be shy!

[orcelito]

Slept like 10 hours total, and I'm really groggy and still kinda tired but I feel reset enough to get right back up and go to work all over again 👍

Woke up from an... interesting dream. (Under the cut bc it got a little long)

Some kind of killing game, where I was one of the contestants. I was trying to dismantle it from the inside, but in the meantime I had to deal with other people dying around me one after another. It was the kind of thing where we had to pretend to be going about life like normal, so we would hold funerals for the people that died, etc etc. I remember I was very upset at the death of one of them - a goofy science teacher within the dream. At one point, a woman managed to catch 3 people with the same poison trick at a dinner and she was bragging about it.

I think the weirdest thing was how fucky the environment was. We were going about school like "normal", trying to take notes in class. And there was Some kind of interesting setup with brain swapping and superhuman shit, but it doesn't quite make sense to me. What matters is that I had a "partner", not in a romantic way but rather in a kind of... mind link, game partner kind of way? We were in this together.

Anways, near the end of the dream, someone pointed out the open front door to the room we were in at this massive dark cloud in the distance. We were ooh-ing and ah-ing, and then we realized it was getting closer... MUCH closer. It was upon us in moments. We tried to run, but couldn't get very far. We saw a few people get vaporized by it in seconds, but whatever my dream invulnerability thing is, it spread to here. I tackled my partner and protected her with my body as the storm raged over us. We were also some of the few that still had face masks so that we could breathe without getting the particles in our lungs... but then her mask blew off, so I took my mask and passed it between us so we could take turns taking breaths while crumpled together on the ground.

The cloud passed, we survived, and then we had to go right back to class. About half the students died, so the room was much less crowded than before, but we kept on going. The presentation was over the parts of the brain, for some reason, except the damn text and pictures were too small for me to be able to make out. I had the thought of "I'll just look this up later" and started to scribble in my notes.

And then... I woke up.

Certainly a complicated dream, though I don't know what it's trying to say. Either way I was like "oh I Gotta write this one down" so here it is, incomprehensibility and all

And now I have to get ready for work :p

[startrekfangirl2233-fic-recs]

He took a deep breath and nodded slowly before he said, "I am so ready for calculus class, Dr. Sugar." Your smirk had his brain working overtime, wondering what exactly you had in mind for him. A blowjob if he aced his exam? Sex on your desk if he could solve the equation tattooed at the top of your ribcage? A handjob that lasted as long as he could accurately recite the decimals in pi?

😏😏😏😏 Bradley's down bad for teacher. Alexa play When I Kissed the Teacher by ABBA.

Ah, okay. So you wanted college Beer Boy right now. Bradley could absolutely deliver on that for you. "Sorry, Professor," he mumbled, looking at the floor and his boots. "You're right. I'm not dressed appropriately for your class."

Oh my god. 🥵🥵🥵🥵

You were sexy academia personified for him, and he loved it so much when you wanted to be in charge. But truly, Bradley felt a little bad for the twenty something year old guys who had to sit through your classes. You just looked that good. You looked good when you were at The University of Virginia as a math major, and somehow you looked even hotter now as a math professor. 

You can't tell me Bradley isn't a little bit proud of that fact. He's so proud of Sugar. And we all know how much Professor Sugar turns him on, too.

Bradley groaned softly, unsure how exactly he was going to be able to do this when his cock was aching so much. Plus, you were making no secret of the fact that you were looking at his tented boxers like you wanted to climb in his lap. 

Ooh math under pressure, huh?

Bradley grunted as he scribbled down an answer for the first problem that he was actually pretty sure was correct. Visiting your evening lectures had really started to pay off. He'd always been pretty good at math, but now he was proficient in calculus and linear algebra. The only problem was, when most people thought about school, it turned them off. But simply looking at math problems made him harder. There was probably something wrong with him. 

The fact that math problems make you hard just means that you've had a very good teacher. A sweet as Sugar one.

"I gave you plenty of time already, Mr. Bradshaw," you said, stroking along his scarred cheek with your nails as you set the paper aside. You wrapped your fingers down along his chin and tipped his face up to meet yours. When you leaned in and kissed his lips sweetly, he was immediately reaching for your body. But then you jerked his chin up another inch and said, "But you missed number five, and I don't accept sloppy math homework."

"I don't accept sloppy math homework." The best line Sugar has ever said to Beer Boy, I swear.

"What's happening is your punishment for your sloppy homework. Keep your palms on the desk, Mr. Bradshaw." You ran your hands softly along Bradley's ass, and he didn't move an inch. His cock was painfully hard now and leaping in the air, begging to be touched. 

Oop! His punishment is going to be fun for both Beer Boy and Sugar.

"P-Professor Sugar," he managed as his skin stung where you hit him. Then to Bradley's surprise, you opened the top drawer of your desk, and sitting right next to your post it notes was his Beta Gamma fraternity paddle. It was made of solid oak and painted in a psychedelic tie dye pattern that he always thought looked really cool. But the last time he saw the thing, it was on top of the bedroom closet. And as you wrapped your fingers around the handle, it dawned on Bradley why it was here and why he was standing like this.

Spanking kink unlocked?

So Bradley took your perfect ass in both of his palms and guided you just how he wanted you, and then he filled you up with his cum. You were peppering his cheeks with kisses as he sat there with his lips parted, trying to catch his breath. 

🥵🥵🥵🥵🫠🫠🫠🫠

"You just spanked me with my Beta Gamma paddle. For my sloppy math homework," he marveled out loud, still nestled inside you. "When I'm not even your student."

You think she'd spank a student, Bradley? Nope! Only you!

You let your cheek come to rest on his shoulder and said, "You're my best student." Then your fingers were teasing at his curls sticking out from under his hat. "And if you enjoyed it, we can do it again."

Of course he's Sugar's best student! The fact that he absorbed as much math as he did while incredibly turne don at the sight of her ass in tweed is proof!

Bradley groaned and said, "My ass needs a couple days off after that." Then he smirked as he reached for the paddle and rubbed it gently across your bare bottom. Your eyes went wide as your head came off his shoulder. "Yours on the other hand..."

Oooh, I think Sugar's in for some fun! I love the evolution of their relationsip so much, Em!

Sloppy Math Homework | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley is the first one to admit that he always has been and always will be a sucker for how smart you are. There's something so hot about you in teacher mode, and he loves it when you take charge. But he's in for a surprise when you dole out a new kind of punishment for turning in sloppy work that leaves him fully at your mercy.

Warnings: Swears, fluff, smut, teacher/18+ student roleplay, spanking, paddling, consensual roleplay punishment

Length: 2400 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time! Banner by @mak-32 Check out my masterlist

Bradley's heart was pounding when he walked through the front door to find you still dressed in your work clothes even though you got home around lunchtime on Fridays. He had been prepared to start cooking dinner, but the sight of you in your loafers and snug tweed skirt was enough to make his cock twitch.

"Are you ready for class, Mr. Bradshaw?" you asked, hands on your hips and one eyebrow raised. 

He took a deep breath and nodded slowly before he said, "I am so ready for calculus class, Dr. Sugar." Your smirk had his brain working overtime, wondering what exactly you had in mind for him. A blowjob if he aced his exam? Sex on your desk if he could solve the equation tattooed at the top of your ribcage? A handjob that lasted as long as he could accurately recite the decimals in pi?

It didn't matter what it was, he wanted it. He was aching for it. Bradley was a mess for his wife. And when you shook your pretty head at him standing there in his uniform and said, "You're not dressed for class," he could feel his cock pressing the inside of his zipper through his underwear. 

He glanced down at his khaki shirt and pants. "What should I be wearing, Professor?" he asked in a low, deep voice that had you getting a little flustered. He could tell. He knew all of your cues, and right now you were squeezing your thighs together.

You cocked your head slightly to the side and eyed him up and down. "I just don't think that's what a college student would be wearing to his weekly math lecture, Beer Boy."

Ah, okay. So you wanted college Beer Boy right now. Bradley could absolutely deliver on that for you. "Sorry, Professor," he mumbled, looking at the floor and his boots. "You're right. I'm not dressed appropriately for your class."

You nodded and said, "Meet me in my office when you're ready to learn something new." And with that, you spun and disappeared down the hallway leaving Bradley to watch the sway of your ass in all that tight tweed fabric. 

You were sexy academia personified for him, and he loved it so much when you wanted to be in charge. But truly, Bradley felt a little bad for the twenty something year old guys who had to sit through your classes. You just looked that good. You looked good when you were at The University of Virginia as a math major, and somehow you looked even hotter now as a math professor. 

He smirked. He'd enjoyed your body at both of those points in time. And he was the only one who knew exactly where and how much you'd filled out from your twenties to your thirties. "Shit," he grunted, realizing he was wasting time thinking about your tits when he could probably be looking at them. 

Bradley tore into the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. He was already hard enough that it was challenging to get his uniform pants off, but he managed to leave a pile of khaki clothing on the floor as he rummaged around for his favorite Grateful Dead shirt. It was neatly folded in the dresser with your clothing since you wore it way more frequently than he did. But he pulled it on and found the University of Chicago hat you'd given him and tossed it on backwards. You always liked to run your fingers through his curls that stuck out from beneath his hats, and Bradley was practically panting just thinking about it.

He palmed himself through his boxer shorts as he pushed your office door open a little wider, grinning where you'd written SUGAR LOVES BEER BOY across it. And then he spotted you, sitting on the edge of the desk with your legs crossed. A few more of the buttons on your blouse were open now, and you were gesturing to your desk chair. 

"Have a seat, Mr. Bradshaw." Your voice was soft and sultry, nothing like the tone you used when you gave a lecture to your students. How did he get this fucking lucky? 

"Yes, Dr. Sugar," he replied, and you smirked. He stepped closer to the soft glow coming from his navy desk lamp which lived in this room, and he slipped down into your chair. Bradley desperately wanted to run his hands up your legs and tuck them inside your skirt, but he knew he wouldn't be allowed. So instead, he took the pencil and calculator you handed to him and looked up at your pretty face.

"I want you to work on your math homework sheet," you whispered, flipping over the single sheet of paper in front of him on the desk. Then you leaned down and kissed his temple, brushing your lips along the hair sticking out from under his cap. "Get started."

Bradley groaned softly, unsure how exactly he was going to be able to do this when his cock was aching so much. Plus, you were making no secret of the fact that you were looking at his tented boxers like you wanted to climb in his lap. 

"You're really proud of yourself, aren't you?" he asked, punching some numbers into the calculator to try to solve the first problem. "You got me so hard, I can barely concentrate, and all you did was talk to me and kiss my fucking hair."

You stroked your fingers along the strands of his hair you had kissed and said, "No cursing in my classroom. And no talking at all while you're working."

Bradley grunted as he scribbled down an answer for the first problem that he was actually pretty sure was correct. Visiting your evening lectures had really started to pay off. He'd always been pretty good at math, but now he was proficient in calculus and linear algebra. The only problem was, when most people thought about school, it turned them off. But simply looking at math problems made him harder. There was probably something wrong with him. 

You hummed as he answered the second equation, but when he looked up at your face, you said, "Eyes on your paper, Mr. Bradshaw."

"Yes, Professor," he whispered, and he was rewarded with the sight of you licking your lips. He was aching for a blowjob right now. He might get one if all of his answers were correct. So as quickly as he could, Bradley finished the remaining questions and slid the paper closer to you. "How did I do?"

You sank your teeth into your lip as you looked at him. Then you took the paper in your hands and murmured, "Let's see..."

Every little twitch of your brow and the way your eyes narrowed after a moment were telling enough, but when you met his gaze over the paper, he knew he had missed one. 

"If you just give me another minute, Dr. Sugar-"

"I gave you plenty of time already, Mr. Bradshaw," you said, stroking along his scarred cheek with your nails as you set the paper aside. You wrapped your fingers down along his chin and tipped his face up to meet yours. When you leaned in and kissed his lips sweetly, he was immediately reaching for your body. But then you jerked his chin up another inch and said, "But you missed number five, and I don't accept sloppy math homework."

Bradley groaned as your nails raked down his neck, because this was doing nothing to alleviate his erection. And now he was a little nervous about that problem he missed. "Does this mean you're going to make me take care of this myself?" he whispered, gesturing to his tented boxer shorts. 

The devilish smirk on your face actually thrilled him as you said, "Not exactly." Then you stood and took both of his hands gently in yours and pulled him to his feet. Bradley groaned as his erection trailed up your body until his length was resting against your belly. You pressed one more kiss to his lips and adjusted his backward cap as he throbbed against you. Then you stepped to the side and guided him to place both of his palms on your desk. 

Bradley looked at you and asked, "What's happening here?" Then you walked behind him and pushed the chair toward the center of the room, and Bradley felt your hands reach inside the elastic of his boxer shorts and start to guide them down until they dropped down to his feet. 

"What's happening is your punishment for your sloppy homework. Keep your palms on the desk, Mr. Bradshaw." You ran your hands softly along Bradley's ass, and he didn't move an inch. His cock was painfully hard now and leaping in the air, begging to be touched. 

He turned to his left where you were kissing along his neck now as you squeezed his ass. He moaned, "Baby, I might cum. I'm not even kidding."

You gasped and slapped his ass, and Bradley's jaw dropped open. "Baby? I'm your teacher! Show me some respect."

"P-Professor Sugar," he managed as his skin stung where you hit him. Then to Bradley's surprise, you opened the top drawer of your desk, and sitting right next to your post it notes was his Beta Gamma fraternity paddle. It was made of solid oak and painted in a psychedelic tie dye pattern that he always thought looked really cool. But the last time he saw the thing, it was on top of the bedroom closet. And as you wrapped your fingers around the handle, it dawned on Bradley why it was here and why he was standing like this.

His eyes snapped up to meet yours, and the look of mischief was gone as you squeezed his bicep and kissed the edge of his mustache. "I thought it might be fun to spank you, Beer Boy. But if you say no, then I'll put it away, and we can find something else fun to do."

Bradley eyed the paddle, and his mind was flooded with memories of his fraternity days. Not all of them were good, but he'd met you at his frat house. And you were the best thing in his life. And for some reason, the idea of that tie dye paddle hitting his bare skin was actually appealing to him. This was not something he had ever thought about before, but in the hands of his wife, he wanted it.

"Yes," he replied, kissing your lips as you started to smile. "I want you to, Professor Sugar."

You nodded and whispered, "If you don't like it, just tell me." Then you squared your shoulders and said in a louder voice, "I can't go easy on you, because you'll keep pulling this stunt over and over with me."

"I understand," he replied, letting you bend him a little more at the waist as you strolled around to stand behind him. And then he yelped as the paddle made solid contact with his right ass cheek. "Oh, fuck." But no sooner had he muttered those words than the paddle hit him in the same spot again. The stinging was intense as you apparently wound up to send the paddle to the same place a third time. "Baby," he whined, because if anything, he was more turned on than before.

Your only response was to switch to his other side and bring the paddle to an untouched patch of skin. Over and over until it was burning so much that Bradley was recoiling from the sound and feel of it. But his hips were thrusting forward now, and he was practically begging for relief from your mouth or your pussy. But he kept his palms planted on the top of the desk. And the pleasure and stinging pain mingled in his mind so much that he found himself whining your name. 

A moment later, you set the paddle on the desk next to his left hand, and Bradley looked up into your lust filled eyes. "Sugar?" he gasped, and you were prying his hands from the desk and pulling him close. Your lips came crashing into his as you grabbed at his shirt. He was rutting into you now, afraid he'd cum on your tweed but unwilling to try to hold himself back. 

"Bradley, that was so fucking hot," you moaned, turning him around and pushing him down to sit on the desk. It felt delightfully cold on his raw skin, but he winced at the same time. It was almost too much to handle. But then you were yanking your skirt up to reveal you were bare underneath, and you scrambled up onto his lap. 

"Easy," he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. But then your perfectly tight warmth came sinking down around his cock, and he knew he was going to last about ten seconds in this state. He shook his head and whispered, "I'm gonna cum."

You held his face gently in both hands and kissed his forehead as you told him, "You earned it." And all the while you bounced up and down on him, bottoming out and whining softly.

So Bradley took your perfect ass in both of his palms and guided you just how he wanted you, and then he filled you up with his cum. You were peppering his cheeks with kisses as he sat there with his lips parted, trying to catch his breath. 

"You just spanked me with my Beta Gamma paddle. For my sloppy math homework," he marveled out loud, still nestled inside you. "When I'm not even your student."

You let your cheek come to rest on his shoulder and said, "You're my best student." Then your fingers were teasing at his curls sticking out from under his hat. "And if you enjoyed it, we can do it again."

Bradley groaned and said, "My ass needs a couple days off after that." Then he smirked as he reached for the paddle and rubbed it gently across your bare bottom. Your eyes went wide as your head came off his shoulder. "Yours on the other hand..."

--------------------------

Oh look, a new kink unlocked for Beer Boy and Sugar. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[miam0re]

really wanted to req for mc looking after the little D's while the demon brothers are watching them interact and thinking how good of a parent they would make (you could add some of the side characters if you're not too lazy)

i saw you take requests after i read some of your work so i just had to, I'd get it if you don't want to but if you do take you time

This sounds so cute uwu I wish I had more thoughts to pen down but my brain is absolutely scattered at the moment sooo :p (and yes I am a bit lazy so gonna just scribble down some thoughts about the demon brothers hueheuhue) I played around with the idea, changing it up a little bit so I hope that's ok! (Also I noticed you using 'they' so I'll try to keep this answer gender neutral, please tell me if I slipped up anywhere) (ps not proofread heheh just ideas dumped)

You and Little D | Demon Brothers

“Will you please. Stop. Talking.” The Little D of Pride was being so difficult with all its mindless yapping and screeching, Lucifer was about to literally throw the stupid mini demon out of the window…had it not been for you showing up to save the day!

All Little D wanted was to be heard about his amazing idea on how to decorate the ballroom for an upcoming event and Lucifer wasn’t bothered to give him any mind.

“Oh? Why don’t you tell me all about your ideas? I can’t wait to hear how awesome the are!”

Seeing you…leaning your chin you palm and listening intently to the little one, nodding eagerly and gasping in surprise at all its wonderful ideas…Lucifer felt his heart rate shoot through the roof

He quickly turned around to hide the growing redness on his pale cheeks, lest you actually catch him blushing at how sweet and loving you were…just like a parent

Perhaps it was too soon to be plagued with such thoughts- thoughts of you both having a little family of your own where you cared for your child just the way you cared for Little D-

“Ahem, I’ll be leaving now. Don’t bother yourself with listening to this thing for too long if you have your own matters to attend to.”

His heart skipped a beat when you shook your head, saying that you had more than enough time to spare to ‘your dearest little D’ You were going to be the death of him. 

They were fighting like LITERAL CHILDREN!! Little D of Greed was flying around with Mammon’s precious credit card.

“YOU RASCAL!! COME BACK HERE WITH GOLDIE RIGHT NOW!” Mammon leapt across the room right as you walked into the weird scene

The oh so innocent Little D scampered into your arms and whined, crying about how Mammon was bullying him, who was quick to deny any such accusations

“Oh, is mammon being mean? Don’t worry, I’m here for you.” You nuzzled your nose against the smirking little demon and Mammon knew that he was supposed to be raging with jealousy but…wow, you were so gentle and the way you had Little D wrapped around your finger just the same way you had him…

How you hugged and comforted the cheeky little demon, Mammon started visualising you as a parent

Mammon was already down bad for you and this little sight was the cherry on top

“I wanna marry ya- I MEAN STOP SIDING WITH THAT LITTLE IDIOT”

Mammon was quick to dart closer to you, prying your hands off the Little D who had occupied all of your love and attention 

“Hey now, there’s enough hugs for everyone here.” You laughed and wrapped one arm around Mammon and the other holding the demon

Wow, you were so mature, being able to handle two jealous demons fighting over your love

Yeah you’d definitely be perfect to handle mammon when you both have a child of your own

Leviathan isn’t really the most attentive to his surroundings when he’s immersed in his video games, especially if it is the latest first person game with his favourite character RURI CHAN!!

Which left the Little D of Envy starved for attention, pouting and poking at the purple haired man

“Stoppppp! Can’t you see I’m busy? Go find some other way to stay entertained.”

Sad little demon floats aimlessly until it reaches the lounge where you are resting on the couch, a Switch in your hand. You notice the sad little demon and smile at him, calling him over to sit on your lap.

An hour passed and Levi noticed the silence…he got up and out of his room as he started praying that Little D hadn’t gotten into any trouble

But what he walked into made his little gamer boy heart race

And excited Little D was on your lap with your Switch in hand as you cheered on him, screeching in happiness when he won first place in DemonKart. You both did a little synchronised dance, ending with a high five

Oh Levi’s otaku little heart couldn’t handle the heat travelling through his veins, seeing you be such a good parent like figure and omg maybe you guys could get married and have a little one of your own to play 3 player games with-

“Hey let me in on the gaming as well!!”

Satan wanted to give attention to the Little D of Wrath but he was far too focused on the spell books that lay open on front of him 

“Why don’t you got…sort out my bookshelves? Go be useful.”

Little D was offended but he had to listen smh, but hey, Satan didn’t say anything about him not being allowed to recruit some extra help

And that’s where you came in, pulling us your sleeves and reading the spiral bindings of some of the hundreds of books in Satan’s room, finding the best category to put them in…until you saw the little demon reach for an unstable pile

“Wait! Little D! Be careful!!” A loud crash alerted Satan, who came running into the room

His eyes widened when he saw you on the floor, hugging and rocking a crying Little D back and forth, “Shhhh, it’s okay…you’re a strong one. You’ll be fine.” You comforted it, caressing the spot where the books fell on it

Satan’s heart did a backflip at your caring and affectionate nature. You had worry drawn all over your face as you held onto the little demon, giving it the support it needed in that moment…you would be the perfect parent

You were so much better than anything he could have imagined and making a family with you would be better than any fairy tale “Why don’t we all sort the books together, yeah? That will be better.”

“No no! You’re doing it all wrong! That is not how you apply mascara!” Asmo pouted at the Little D of Lust who had managed to yet again mess up Asmo’s makeup

The Little D frowned at Asmo’s uncharacteristic outburst, feeling helpless while floating out of the room.

“Hey, are you okay? I heard Asmo shout? Did he shout at you?” You showed up in front of the door, opening your arms for the sad little demon

You tapped your chin in thought when an idea clicked in your head “Why don’t I teach you some tricks, hmm?” The way the little demon’s eyes lit up made you smile even wider

Together in your room, you showed it the various techniques of applying makeup, ranging from mascara to blush to lipstick, till the demon had almost mastered the skills

Together, the two of you waltzed into Asmo’s room, showing off your beautiful face all thanks to Little D’s skills.

“Aw, did you teach Little D how to apply makeup? You look so good! You’re such a good teacher.” He pet the little demon’s head

Then Asmo’s face sparkled with the thought of how nurturing you would be as a parent 

“Omg you would be such a wonderful parent when we have a child! You can teach them how to apply make up too! Wouldn’t that be perfect!!”

His unfiltered words made you blush and hide your face away from the thoughts of having a child with him 

“Ughhhhh I’m so hungryyyyyy! I want foooooood!” Beel was once again whining about how hungry he was and unfortunately Little D of Gluttony was subject to his whining

Sad for Beel, Little D wasn’t exactly the most equipped in the kitchen, floating to the room and head spiralling with the number of cabinets and cooking equipment

Lucky for the mini demon, you walked into the kitchen, seeing it in its distressed state

“Why don’t you and I cook something together? That would be a good way to learn, yeah?” You offered, pulling out some pans to make the simplest thing you knew…pancakes

The little demon floated around and carefully listened to your instructions, laughing along with you when some batter accidentally spilled out of the mixing bowl or when you managed to land the perfect flip on the pan

“Mmmmm I can smell pancakes.” Beel, drawn buy the scent of the treat walked into the kitchen, stopping short in his tracks seeing you cooking with the demon

It was a sight right from heaven, his favourite human and his favourite demon doing his favourite activity (cooking something for Beel)

He smiled when the little demon laughed while pouring syrup and decorating the stack with berries, as per your instructions. His heart warmed at how parent-like you were when you high fived the demon and hugged it

“Oh Beel! Look what Little D and I made! Pancakes for you!”

Perhaps one day he would be walking in on seeing you making pancakes with a little one of your own.

The day was already quite tiring, Lucifer had told(more like ordered) Belphie to run some errands around Devildom, grocery shopping ughhh 

All Belphie wanted to do was go into his blankets and fall asleep

He thought to himself, wondering what the Little D of Sloth would have been up to, all alone at home with nobody else to supervise 

Honestly, if the little demon was anything like him, it would probably be in a deep sleep on the couch 

When Belphie entered the living room, he noticed you on the couch and beamed at you, approaching to give you a big hug “Hey!-“

“Shhhhhhh! Little D is sleeping!” You loudly whispered at him, your tone sounding very much like a scolding

Belphie pouted and looked at your lap, the irritated feeling in his gut changing to a soft, loving sensation

Little D was asleep on your lap murmuring in sleep. You were stroking the little demon’s back and if you even dared to stop, it twisted and turned around violently till you gave it attention

“Little D is so much like you! If I stop stroking it, it would get mad!” You giggled when Belphie sat next to you, his thoughts straying to daydreams

Maybe one day the one of your lap will truly be someone like belphie, your child. You stroking the child’s hair who slept peacefully in your embrace.

Belphie blushed, leaning his face in your shoulder to hide himself from your gaze

“Can I rest on your shoulder for a while? I wanna dream a bit.”

Dream about having a life with you, making a family with you hehe.

[keyboardandquill]

How being bad on purpose can be the best thing for getting things written

It’s some of my favourite advice to give fellow perfectionists. Having trouble getting started? Put some awful prose on the page. Make it as bad as you possibly can. 

Think of it like scribbling on the first page of a new notebook or that first stain on new furniture or the first scratch on a new car. 

Why? Because you'll feel a little disappointment, followed by an immense sense of relief. Stop taking yourself seriously.

Here’s why it helps. 

It clears out the creative pipes

Have you ever turned on a tap that hasn’t been used in ages? It coughs and sputters and wheezes, but eventually the water starts to flow. And boy is it ugly water. Who knows how long it has been sitting in the pipes. 

They’re doing road work near my house and had to shut off the water for a day. When we used the tap the first time it came back on, the water ran muddy and gross for a good, long while. And even after it looked transparent, there was still a gritty texture and taste to it for a while after that.

But once I left the tap on for a while, eventually fresh water started flowing from it.

So, instead of trying to get pure, clean prose to flow from your fingertips the moment you sit down, make sure you clear the pipes first.

Write the worst paragraph you've ever written. Make it bad on purpose. Let all that muddy water flow away.

It acts like a warmup

You wouldn't expect an athlete to run a marathon without warming up their muscles first. Even artists warm up with sketches and studies before working on a main project.

Creative writing works the same way. Putting down whatever comes to mind will get you into the right headspace. It doesn't matter if the words you write are any good because you're simply exercising.

Don't stop at just one paragraph. Write another bad one, and another, and another until you feel it start coming out easy.

Blank pages are daunting, so make them not-blank

Pretty simple, right? We hate sullying something new—see my previous comment about new notebooks and furniture and cars—for fear of doing irreparable damage. And while it's a lot harder to buff out scratched paint than it is to hit the backspace key on your keyboard, the effect is the same.

You know that tactic of taking off one or two of those "take a number" tags on a posted flyer to entice more people to take some? Do that to yourself.

Your brain will go "Ah, a first paragraph already exists! Time to keep writing."

Consider: you don't have to be perfect, so don't try to be

Ruin the illusion of perfection to prove to your gremlin brain that it's perfectly okay to do something imperfectly.

We're meant to enjoy the act of creation. It's difficult to do things we don't enjoy when we make it into such a big thing in our minds, right? So if you've over-inflated it, let out some air.

Relax. Enjoy the process of writing. It's going to go through revisions before the final draft anyway, so why not have a little fun while you're at this stage?

tl;dr: Don't take yourself too seriously. Go write some nonsense. Keep writing nonsense until it flows freely. And have fun with it!

[compulsoryroyalty]

(Lila 2):

"You know that's basically what Fate or Flora do whenever they end up in a stalemate or one is losing bad enough. Not like they destroy them, though my Silvana figured out that at one point the timeline just goes cold and stops going. Not all of them, though a LOT do. Not that I heard it from her at first. I heard it from that annoying ass lemur which Silvana then confirmed." Lila was sure her Silvana had reasons for that, though that lemur didn't seem to care.

"You got the tenrec too? Honestly, I like her style and she's already proving pretty handy seeing as she defeated this new wolf that is stronger than Lady Tala." Lila would then think. "Not sure if you have the same Wolf Leader we do. Then there's another tenrec in a branch timeline here, though she's pretty much harmless."

"Though it's not the regular people that are the problem, or the strong ones. That lemur I mentioned is a Chaos Goddess, and she's causing all sorts of problems. Well, expect for the new 'addition' that was added this rest." Lila would look out at the clock tower in the distance which no one can get close to.

"Though all that pales in comparison to the fucking Mary problem I'm having. I don't know how or why, though Mystana doesn't have full control anymore. What's worse is Mary's figured everything out and is jumping timelines all over the fucking place. Silvana is SUPER pissed about that."

. . .

That's what those fucking bozos do?

Fuck's sake--for being on the second rung, Silvana didn't tell her shit.

Great, okay. Guess she's gotta worry about her timeline just going cold again at some point. And of course Silvana would keep that kind of shit hidden from her--if something were ever 'first rung info', it'd probably be that.

She babum-badum's here thigh drums once more, appearifying out of thin air a notepad and pen. Physical record for this shit would be better than arcanic--lord knows what kind of bullshit could happen to an arcanic record if you loose track of it. The pen begins to scribble onto the page various notes Lila 2 was yapping on about. Flora and Fate--check up on the little shit and Dad. Or has that twin already started showing up? Or--augh, whatever. Go down the list. First Dad, then Renard, then explore anything else that could've possibly happened to Fate. And only God knows where the fuck Flora is at any given time. A sigh escapes her lips--she should be counting herself lucky that she's gone this long without having to deal with it.

The pen continue to write. Lady Tala, huh? Doesn't ring any bells, but she can also look into that one too. They've got two Tenrecs, apparently. Fun. Honestly she hasn't seen much of that one for a bit. And shit, if she's saying that she was apparently pretty fun then she's almost disappointed she hasn't gotten to see her in action more.

Maybe she'll send Kit on a 'scouting mission' of sorts. Could be funny.

Snrk.

It was hard to stifle her laughter at this one; there's a Chaos Goddess roaming around? That's actually really funny. Imagine what kind of bullshit that thing could get up to just by existing.

Definitely looking into that one.

. . .

"Mary's doing what now?"

The fucking empty head got full control? Or, half control??? How the everliving fuck did they let that happen?

"Did you run out of tickets or somethin'? Actually no that wouldn't matter--she's not even a real person. How can a shell get control and start bouncing around timelines? That doesn't even make sense."

Though... it's not like that's not possible, she guesses?

It's not like Mary's stupid, at least not on purpose. Every Mystana is still Mystana, at the end of a day. Whether it's a Mom or a Kid or a Mary, that capacity for magic and ability to do shit is only as locked away as Mystana wills it.

Mary--last Mystana described--was like if Mystana turned her brain off. On purpose. That's why she needs a fucking ticket every time she wants to talk to her--it's turning the brain back on. So in theory--or, Lila guesses, in practice--if that little shit just decided to think for more than two seconds, then it's entirely possible that she could get a leg up on Mystana.

But, no, that still doesn't make sense. It's still just Mystana at the end of the day. It's not body sharing, it's just her if she were stupid. There's no fucking reason why a shell would just... become a second consciousness out of fuckin' nowhere.

Unless...

"Welp, you're boned. Tough shit dealin' with all'a'that. My problems are waaaaay simpler. Fuckin' with a Queen, popped into your timeline once maybe, had a bad lunch. I'm on fuckin' easy street compared to you.

"Oh, hey, if we're a little earlier in the timeline, do you know where Laphoda fucked off to? Or will fuck off to, I guess. Tryna keep track of that bitch is a pain in the ass and I do not care about cheating when it comes to her."