#i can probably color it all later and post it so then i can spend my last night off working on my animation :D

[sad-leon]

Weird little request, but

If yall know any good, Leo-centric angst fics (with happy endings) could yall share? It could be literally any iteration i just crave leo angst

All the angst fics I wanna read are uncompleted and I am starved!-

No pressure, but I figure I have nothing to lose by asking

[imaginedisish]

Need 2 (Logan Howlett x f!reader)

A/N: So...I'm back already lol. This sort of just came to me last night. I was rewatching the first and second X-Men movies and got a little inspired. This is also inspired by the song "Need 2" by Pinegrove. Didn't think I'd be posting another fic already, but here we are. Hopefully y'all enjoy!

Summary: You and Logan have always been plagued with nightmares, so avoiding sleep is just something you two have in common...until you find yourselves in each other's beds, helping one another through your nightmares.

Warnings: 18+! Smut! Minors DNI! PWP. Unprotected PIV (wrap it up), Fingering, AFAB!reader, fem!reader, Reader has some hair at the nape of her neck that can be played with (length, color and texture are not described!), mutant!reader, cursing, canon typical violence, angst, praise kink, feelings, nightmares, friends to lovers, probably some grammatical errors, I think that's all?

Word Count: 3,906

Some nights, it was easier not to sleep. It was easier to go down into the kitchen, the living room, or one of the many libraries in the mansion and stay awake. It was easier than forcing yourself to go to bed, just to wake up screaming thirty minutes later. 

So tonight, like far too many nights, you’ve found yourself in your favorite corner in your favorite library in the mansion. You’re reading Simone de Beauvoir’s letters to Sartre when a familiar figure enters the room. 

“What’re you doing awake?” Logan’s voice is gruff, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, his beater tight against his chest. “You should be asleep.”

“Can’t sleep,” You answer, placing a bookmark between the pages and shutting the book. You look up at the old grandfather clock on the other side of the room. 2:00 AM. “You should be sleeping too.” You smirk patting the free space next to you on the loveseat. 

He shakes his head. “Too stuffy in here.”

You roll your eyes, placing the book down on the couch. “Then what’s your plan, big guy?”

He holds up his beer and points down the hall. “Gonna sit in front of the T.V. You can too,” he pauses tentatively, “if you want.”

“S-sure,” you stutter. Why are you stuttering? You spend time with Logan constantly. This isn’t new. This is normal. You feel your heart rate pick up. This is ridiculous. This is a totally regular night. 

You stand and follow him down the hall and into another room, one with a lit fireplace and a television. You both sit down, leaving a generous amount of room between the two of you. Logan reaches for the remote and turns the T.V. on. He surfs through the channels before stopping on a movie you instantly recognize. 

“Casablanca?” You ask, turning towards him, letting yourself move just a bit closer as you do so. You feel like he’s moved closer in too. 

He nods, his eyes glued to the screen. “It’s a classic.”

You can’t help but smirk. “Never pinned you for the love story type.”

“You’d be surprised,” he says back as he turns towards you again. There’s a faint smile on his face. You swear his eyes flicker down to your lips for just a second before he turns to face the T.V. again. 

A few minutes go by like this, the two of you just inches away from one another. You can’t concentrate on the movie with him this close. It’s impossible. 

Despite the heat of the fire, you start to feel a chill. Goose bumps rise on your arms, and you pull your legs into your chest, your arms wrapping around your knees. 

Logan immediately notices, shifting to grab the throw blanket from behind him. “Cold?” He asks, taking the opportunity to move closer towards you as he tosses the blanket over the two of you. 

“Y-yeah, thanks,” you answer. But you’re still cold. You bring the blanket up so that it rests just under your chin. For such an old mansion, the A/C must work great. No wonder the fire was already lit when you and Logan got in here. 

Logan notices again. He rests his arm against the back of the couch. “You could…” He trails off, nodding his head to offer the space right next to him, in his arms. “Come over here?” You nod back, scooching closer until your side presses into his. 

He’s an absolute furnace. He pulls you into his chest, rubbing up and down your arm gently. He’s so warm. You instinctively curl into him, wanting nothing more than to be closer to him. For the first time in months, you feel comfortable enough—safe enough—to fall asleep. 

“Better?” He asks, his lips brushing against your forehead. 

You nod against his chest. “So much better.” You whisper. You can feel your eyelids growing heavy. You let them fall shut. Let yourself go. Give in. Finally. 

“Lo?” You quietly call out. You’re so close to sleep that you don’t even realize you’re speaking. 

You can feel his smile on the side of your head. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“You feel so nice.” You’re mumbling, half asleep. It’s nonsense, but it’s true. “So safe.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “You do too. Now get some sleep.”

You shake your head softly. “Only if you sleep, too.” 

You think you feel another kiss. One of his hands reaches up to play with the hair at the nape of your neck. “I will, I promise.”

You drift off to sleep, waking up just once about an hour and a half later to see Logan still on the couch beside you. He’s asleep, still holding you to his chest. You don’t wake him. You let yourself fall asleep again. 

You wake up a few hours later, this time in your own bed, the sun shining through your curtains. You notice a note next to your pillow. 

Glad you got some sleep. -Logan

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

You can hear him, his grunts, his screams. You jump out of bed and sprint down the hall. You don’t need a flashlight to find his room. You know the way by heart. You don’t even bother knocking. You burst in and shut the door behind you. 

You run over to the side of his bed and start to softly shake him. “It’s just a dream, Lo,” you call out to him. He doesn’t wake up. He’s still grunting, still tossing and turning. You feel helpless. “Logan, it’s okay.” You speak a bit louder this time, putting more of your weight on his shoulders as you shake him. Nothing. No change. 

“Logan, please wake up.” Louder again. And still nothing. “Fuck it.”

You climb onto the bed, maneuvering so that you can get on top of him. You’re straddling him now, which probably isn’t the world’s greatest idea. You shake his shoulders harder as he winces, his head thrashing against the mattress, his chest rapidly rising and falling. 

“Come on, Lo, wake up.”

And then, he’s sitting up, claws out, the tips just nudging the base of your throat. “It’s me!” You shout. “It’s just me!” You can hear the shing of his claws retracting. You look down to see that the collar of your shirt is sliced.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” He’s wrapping his arms around your back, pulling you into his chest, scanning your body frantically for any injury. He’s moving up and down your skin like a wildfire, checking every possible surface that he could have pierced or sliced. 

You try to stop him, but he refuses to listen. “You didn’t get me, Logan. I’m okay, really.” 

He pushes you down onto the mattress, carefully turning you over onto your stomach before you can protest. “I’m just checking your back, okay?”

“You couldn’t have touched my back. That’s physically impossible.” You try to turn back over, but he keeps you down, one hand pinned between your shoulder blades as the other pulls up your shirt to search your skin. You suddenly remember you aren’t wearing a bra. You’re not wearing any shorts, either. Just your oversized pajama shirt and panties.

His fingers gently trace your skin before reaching up to pull the shirt back down. He finally lets you turn over. You push yourself up so that you’re sitting on your knees, just a few inches away from Logan. It’s your turn to reach out to him now. You bring up a tentative hand to his shoulder; he trembles under your touch but doesn’t push you away. You move a bit closer, your knee slotting into the space between his thighs. Your hand slides up his shoulder to his neck, and he finally leans into your palm. 

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispers again. He moves closer, shifting his thighs further into your own. “I never, ever want to hurt you.” He brings his arms back around you, hesitantly pulling you into his chest. You let him, let him hold you. You know he needs to—needs to feel someone else. You wrap your arms around his body too. 

“I know, Lo. It’s okay. No more apologizing.” You hold him tighter. “Are you okay?”

He hums as his face burrows into the crook of your neck. “Just a nightmare.” A part of you is surprised he’s letting you hold him and holding you back. “I fucked up your shirt.”

You let your head rest against his shoulder. “I know.” 

“Almost fucking killed you.” He’s trembling again like he wants to push you away. 

You hold him tighter. “You didn’t though,” You mumble against his bare skin. “Please don’t run away. Let me hold you, please.” 

He relaxes again, pulling you in tighter in response. “Why do you care about me?”

You shake your head in disbelief. “Why do you care about me?” You ask back. 

He scoffs. “Because I…” He trails off. You can tell he’s not giving you the whole truth. “I just do. You’re you. That’s all there is to it.”

“Exactly. And you’re you.” You can feel his lips ghost against your neck—not quite a kiss, but not quite nothing either. “So, I care about you too.”

“I don’t deserve it, the way you care about me.” His lips don’t move from that half-kiss position along your neck as he speaks. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t talk like that.” Your voice is suddenly stern, assertive. “You deserve so much, Logan. So much.” Before you can even think about what you’re doing, you press a kiss against his bare shoulder. And then another. And another. 

“You should go back to bed.” His voice is low and hoarse. He finally presses a true kiss into your neck, too. 

You shake your head. “No,” you whisper. “Let me stay with you.”

“But what if I—” 

You cut him off. “Please.”

He doesn’t protest this time. He just guides you down to the pillows, keeping one arm tightly around your waist as the other brings the covers up and over the two of you. 

You stay intertwined, your legs tangled up with his, your chests pressed tightly together. You bring your hands up to the nape of his neck, gently raking your nails through his hair. His lips find your neck again, kissing that spot just underneath your ear. It’s chaste, but there’s something else there. You know there is. 

You can feel him relaxing, drifting off into sleep, and so you let yourself do the same. There’s nowhere you feel safer than with Logan. 

When you wake up, you’re still in Logan’s bed, but his side is empty. Again, there’s a note on the pillow next to you. 

Thank you. Hope this makes up for what I did. -Logan.

Underneath the note is his favorite Rolling Stones shirt.

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

You’re somewhere dark, sitting on a cold metal chair, your hands shackled in more cold metal. The air tastes like metal, too. And then it dawns on you: Magneto. 

His figure appears in front of you, his hand extended out towards something...perhaps someone. Towards no one? No. There he is, floating in front of you. Logan. “NO!” You yell. You can feel your throat burn as you shout.

“Let him go!” You scream. But Magneto doesn’t budge. He holds Logan in the air, bending the metal in his body. He stretches Logan’s claws out. You remember when Logan told you it hurts every time he unleashes them. You can’t imagine the pain he’s in now.  

“Logan!” You cry out. Your abilities don’t seem to work, no matter how hard you try. You’re powerless, helpless, useless. You echo his name repeatedly to no avail. 

You’re forced to sit and watch as his claws bend backward. Tears run down your face as Logan screams in agony. There’s nothing you can do. You thrash in place. 

“Let him fucking go!” You sob, tears rolling down your cheeks. “Logan! I’m so sorry. Oh fuck. I’m so sorry.” A familiar name calls for you in the distance, but you ignore it. “I’m so sorry,” you cry. “So fucking sorry.”

The voice shouts your name again. And again. Tears stain your cheeks. 

“I’m so sorry,” you mumble.

“It’s just a dream, come on, wake up for me sweetheart.” You know that voice. “I’m right here, just wake up.” 

Your eyes finally flutter open. There he is, in front of you, his solid frame heavy on top of you. “Lo?” You push yourself up to meet him. 

“It’s me, darlin’, It’s me.”

You throw your arms around him, sobbing into his bare chest. “Fuck,” you mumble against him. 

He wraps his arms tightly around your body, carefully bringing you back down to the bed. “It’s okay. It’s over now. I’m here.”

“How’d you know I was…” You trail off, swallowing harshly, not wanting to think about what you just dreamed of. 

“You called my name. I came the second I heard you.” His voice is soft but shaky. It dawns on you that you scared him. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” Tears stream down your cheeks, your voice a trembling mess. 

He presses a soft kiss against your shoulder, and then that usual spot in the crook of your neck. He somehow manages to pull you tighter into his chest. “Don’t be sorry darlin’, please. Nothing to be sorry for.” 

“But I woke you,” you protest. “I scared you.”

“That’s fine, sweetheart.” His breath tickles the skin of your neck. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” He’s kissing you more fervently than normal. There’s something panicked about his movements, like he’s still worried that you might not be fine. 

You take a deep breath. “Lo?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Can you stay with me?” You feel like a child, but you don’t care. You want to feel him. You need to be close to him. You can’t lose him. Not now. Not ever. 

His legs tangle with yours. “I’m not going anywhere.” His voice is a whisper now. 

You nod, pushing yourself further into him. “Need to feel you,” you say, running your hands along his back, his chest, his waist. You need him, every inch, every curve. All of him. 

“Darlin’,” he mutters. “What do you mean?”

You break away from him for just a second. His brows are furrowed. “Need you, Lo.”

You watch his throat bob as he swallows. “You have me.”

“No Logan I-I—” You stutter. “I want you. Need you. I need you closer. Please.” 

His eyes search yours, his hands finding their way under your shirt. His fingers climb higher, stopping just below your chest, where the hem of your bra would be. 

You inhale deeply and press harder into him. “Please, Lo. Please.”

“Sweetheart, is this really what you want?” You can feel his breath against your lips. He’s so close, but not close enough. “That dream…” He pauses. “If this is only because of the dream…”

You shut your eyes, remembering what you saw. You feel a tear slide down your still-wet cheek. You breathe deeply. “Wanted you before the dream,” you murmur nervously. 

“Darlin’, you gotta be careful saying things like that.” He presses his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. Your noses touch gently. He slots his legs higher between yours and pulls you closer. 

“Why?” You ask.

“Because I’ve never wanted someone the way I want you.” His hands become less hesitant, his fingers tracing the underside of your chest, slowly charting a course to your nipples. 

He opens his eyes, searching your face for consent, and you immediately nod. “I’m yours. Been yours the whole time.”

That’s all the permission he needs to bring his lips to yours, to hungrily swallow everything you’re willing to give him. His fingers gently pinch your nipples before drawing lazy circles around them. Your breath catches in your throat as his tongue slips across your lower lip. You open up and let him inside, savoring the taste of him. 

You’re still side by side, tangled up with one another, but it’s not close enough. You need more. 

“Logan,” you call, leaving one hand on his bare back as you let the other trail down his chest, to the hem of his sweats. But before you can get any further, he grabs your hand, freezing you in place. 

He shakes his head against yours. “Wanna take care of you.”

“But I wanna take care of you, too,” you whine. 

He just smiles. “You always do, sweetheart. Let me make you feel good.” He drops your hand, and one of his own trails down your body, down to the ridden-up hem of your shirt—his shirt, actually—the one he left on the pillow. “Looks better on you than it ever did on me.” He pulls it up, revealing your stomach and tits. One of his hands continues to massage your breasts, playing with your nipples, while the other travels back down to the hem of your panties. His fingers slip inside, sliding down through your folds and back up to your clit. You shudder under his touch. 

He starts to draw slow, lazy circles there. You can’t help but grind into his hand, needy for more. You whisper his name as his touch becomes harder, faster. 

“So fucking wet for me. Soaking already.” The whimper rising in your throat at his words is swallowed by another deep, desperate kiss. 

You hang onto him, your arms around his back as he pulls you closer to the edge. He can tell you need the contact, the closeness, and so he pulls away from your tits, his now-free hand slipping underneath you and snaking around your waist, holding you closer than before. Your chest is flush with his as his fingers rub harder at your clit. 

You can feel yourself coming undone, your hips rocking against him uncontrollably. “I’m so close,” you pant. 

“I know pretty girl,” he murmurs. He breaks away from your face, finding that spot in the crook of your neck that he loves so much. You throw your head back as his lips find purchase in the same area as always. “Doing so good for me. Wanna feel you come on my fingers.”

His whispers in your ear, his little bites and kisses against that spot on your neck, his fingers on your clit, it’s all too much. “Lo,” you whine, shutting your eyes and pressing your face into his shoulder. 

“That’s it, darlin’, let go.” 

That’s all it takes to have you seeing stars. You grind down onto his fingers, your hips still canting back and forth as you come undone. You can feel Logan smile against your neck as he slows down his pace. After a moment or two, his hand slips out of your panties and comes up to rest on your hip. 

You bring your forehead back to his. “You alright, sweetheart?” His low, husky whisper fills the air. 

“Mhm,” you hum. “Still want you, Lo.” 

“Are you sure?” He asks, his thumb brushing gently across your hip. 

You nod. “Need you closer.”

“Fuck,” he groans. His thumb hooks under the hem of your panties and he pulls them down your legs. You slip them off the rest of the way as Logan turns you on your back. You watch him above you, thumbs hooked inside his sweats. He pulls them down quickly, his cock springing up to his stomach in the process. Your eyes widen as you take in just how big he is. 

He pushes his sweats down the rest of the way, and he slots himself in between your legs. You can feel the length of him on the inside of your thigh. “Wanted you for so long, pretty girl,” he grunts. His forearm rests next to your head, caging you in and keeping him steady, while his other hand guides his cock through your folds, teasing your entrance. 

“Logan,” you whine, your hands reaching up to his neck, pulling his face down to meet you. “I’m yours.” 

You gasp as he fills you up, his hand immediately reaching between your bodies to find your still-sensitive clit. His pace is slow at first, letting you adjust to his length, rocking into you gently. His thumb flicks your clit before drawing those same lazy circles from before. You’re already close, still drunk off the first orgasm he pulled from you. 

“So fucking tight,” he moans. “Doing so good for me.” You can feel him building speed, pumping in and out of you. He feels so good, rubbing against your walls, stretching you out. He’s so close, so real, so safe.

“Needed you so bad,” you whimper, spreading your legs wider, inviting him in. 

You can feel him throb inside you at your words. “Needed you too.” The sound of his voice pushes you closer to the edge, your walls fluttering around his cock. His circles on your clit are no longer gentle or slow. He thrusts faster, rutting into you hit after hit. 

“L-Lo,” you stutter, shaking underneath him. “I-I’m so clo…” But you can’t finish your sentence. Your eyes flutter open and shut. 

“I’m here,” he whispers. “I’ve got you. Never gonna let you go.”

You take in a sharp breath. “’M’yours,” is all you can manage to say. 

“Mine,” he breathes, his hips rocking into you again and again. “Can feel you squeezing me, beautiful.”

“S-so close,” you choke in between thrusts. His fingers work harder on your clit, his lips moving against yours like they belong there, always. 

“Then let go, darlin’,” he says against your lips. He pushes deeper into you than before, your walls clamping down onto him. You feel heat rise to your chest as you shatter around him. You echo his name over and over again as you ride out your orgasm. You know he’s close behind, his thrusts faltering, growing sloppier with each pump. 

“W-where do you want—”

“Inside.”

“F-fuck,” he’s a choking, moaning mess as he comes undone inside you. You can feel him paint your walls, filling you up. He pumps in and out of you a few more times before he starts to slip out. 

“W-wait,” you stutter, grabbing him, holding him in place. 

He freezes. “You okay?” Concern is painted across his face, his brows furrowed, trying to discern what’s wrong. 

“J-just don’t want you to go,” you murmur. 

He smiles as he slides out of you. He pulls you tightly into his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You shut your eyes as his hands settle on your lower back. “Don’t leave, okay?”

“I promise,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Relax. I’ve got you. I’m here.”

You can’t fight your exhaustion anymore, so you do as he says. You fall asleep to the sound of his steady breathing, to his kisses on your forehead, to the tracing of letters and shapes along your back. 

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

The next morning, as pale light trickles through the curtains of your room, you see there’s no letter. No empty space next to you in the bed. 

There’s just Logan, his arms still wrapped around you, holding you tight against his chest. Your eyes flutter open. His are still closed. But he can tell you’re awake. 

“’M’not going anywhere,” he mumbles, still half asleep. “Too early. Go back to bed.”

He’s right. So, you do. 

tags: @seamlessepiphany

[blues824]

I saw your sheep mc posts in the request masterlist and imagine if sheep mc couldn’t talk like in the manga but can only bleat like a regular sheep. So the brothers got them Dog Buttons that people sometimes use to get their pets to communicate with them. Imagine a scenario where mc uses one of the buttons that say a swear word to cuss out a brother🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Gender-neutral reader.

Lucifer

He had seen a video of the talking buttons on Devilgram, sent to him by Levi, and had asked if you would like them to be able to communicate properly. After you sat on the piece of paper that said ‘yes’ rather than ‘no’, he put in an order for them. A few days later, he got a notification on his DDD that they were delivered.

Upon opening the box, he saw that the buttons were brightly colored, and thus you would be able to distinguish them. Also, there were labels for the buttons as well. He sorted the buttons from normal words to curse words, and for the rest of the day it was a reliever for everyone that you were able to finally communicate in a somewhat normal medium.

However, the peace had not lasted more than a couple of hours. He was sitting in the living room when you were pressing two buttons over and over again. If you couldn’t tell already, it was ‘fuck’ and ‘you’. He looked and saw that you were cursing out Mammon, and he had to refrain himself from laughing out loud as he went to solve the issue.

Mammon

He let out a very loud laugh as he heard that Lucifer ordered the buttons for you, but you rammed into his shin with your horns and that got him to shut up. He helped set the buttons up, and labeled them for you. He pressed a few, and said ‘love you’, and you said ‘love you two (too)’. 

For the rest of the day, Mammon pretty much spent his free time sitting with you and communicating with you through the buttons. It was a lot more fun than he originally anticipated, and he could see why you were enjoying them. The Avatar of Greed was happy that you could finally ‘speak’ to him.

But, Satan came out of his bedroom in a rage and stomped on and broke the ‘outside’ button. You, being the chaotic sheep that you are, immediately started pressing buttons. You said ‘fight, bitch’, and got yourself ready to ram into the Avatar of Wrath. Mammon had to hold you back as Lucifer restrained Satan before any damage was caused.

Leviathan

He originally saw the video and sent it to Lucifer, saying that a system like that could be used for you to communicate your needs in a more efficient way. He also sent the link to order the buttons if the eldest agreed, and he was very excited to help set them up once they had arrived. You had the job of pressing each of the buttons to make sure that none of them were defective.

This was probably the longest amount of time that he had spent outside of his room, just watching you have fun pressing the buttons and asking for random things like water and snacks. He catered to your every desire because he knew that you were enjoying getting something akin to your voice back.

But, the fun was over when Mammon ran into the living room trying to escape Lucifer and accidentally broke one of the buttons. You were upset and said ‘Fuck you, Mams’. That sentence alone had the Avatar of Envy rolling on the floor in tears just laughing as you continued to press those three buttons over and over.

Satan

Each of the brothers pitched in and helped with the labeling of the buttons. Satan thought that the excited sparkle in your eyes was absolutely adorable as you started pressing the buttons. The first one you had pressed was ‘cat’, and he knelt down to the ground to say ‘love you’ as he left to go do something else.

He was sad that he couldn’t spend too much time with you and your buttons, but he had to do the grocery shopping for the HoL, as it was his turn to cook and he found a recipe that he wanted to try out. Unfortunately, he did not have all of the ingredients, and thus needed to go to the store. He did ask if you wanted anything, and you responded ‘snack’, and he made a note on the list to get your favorite snack.

When he came back home, he heard you in the kitchen saying ‘shit’ over and over again. He looked and saw that you had spilled a glass of water and you couldn’t wipe it up because your hooves did not allow you to grab anything. He laughed as he went to clean up the spill, and stated that it was no big deal.

Asmodeus

He was probably more excited than you, to be honest. He loved the videos of the dogs pressing the buttons, so he was very happy that you would be doing it to be able to communicate better. That means you could help him choose between two different clothing options, and you would be able to say ‘one’ or ‘two’.

The first buttons you had pressed were ‘Asmo, beautiful’, and the Avatar of Lust let out a squeal as he canceled all of his plans to just hang out with you for the remainder of the day. He took many videos and posted them to his Devilgram. All the comments were just things like ‘so cute!’ and ‘nice to see that Avatars are accommodating the exchange student!’.

But, the excitement was short-lived when Mammon was running from Levi and crushed one of your buttons. Asmo gasped as you immediately pressed the buttons ‘shit head’, and he had to hold in the laughs he wanted so desperately to let out. His older brother looked like a kicked puppy, but since he saw that the Avatar of Envy was also distracted by what you said, took advantage and continued to run.

Beelzebub

He set up the food-related buttons, obviously. It was funny to hear his voice come from the buttons rather than one that matched you, but at least you could communicate your needs and wants in a clearer and less tedious way. You seemed very excited about it as well, so he was just happy that you were happy.

Almost immediately, you asked for a snack, and he went to the kitchen and brought back a sweet snack and a savory snack so that you could choose what you wanted. You actually really enjoyed the buttons, and you had your very first full-blown conversation with Beel. It was a very moving moment for the big demon, as he had never been able to hear you before.

But, happy time was over when Lucifer accidentally stepped on and broke one of the buttons… ‘burger’. You pressed ‘bitch’ over and over, and you did not allow the eldest brother to get a word in. The Avatar of Gluttony set out about purchasing an extra button to replace the one that broke, but he found the situation absolutely hilarious.

Belphegor

He was honestly confused, but recorded the sleep/rest-related buttons. It was weird to hear his own voice whenever you asked if you could nap with him, but he would never refuse a request from his beloved Y/N. Honestly, he didn’t mind the buttons. He always made sure that he minded where he stepped to make sure that he didn’t break them.

There were times where he would wake up to you pressing a button, be it ‘school’ or ‘breakfast’ or something of the sort, and he low-key preferred it where you did not have any buttons and thus couldn’t wake him up. But, if there was any way he would rather wake up, this would probably be what he chose.

One time, Beel accidentally broke one of the buttons, and before he could apologize, you said ‘want, fight, piece, shit?’, and the twins got the idea. Belphie started laughing so hard, and the Avatar of Gluttony was just looking like a kicked puppy as you continued to cuss him out.

[misc-obeyme]

cc. your tags on the boudoir post. MAMMON recieving an album of those photos. i'd love to hear your thoughts on his reaction (and everyone else's, if you're feeling particularly inspired?)

Ah, Daisy, my dear, thank you for asking!

I apologize for this late response, but I knew I was gonna be getting wordy with this one. Because I looove the boudoir photos idea in general and OH MAN just thinking about all their reactions is making me crazy lol. I was going to just do my regular sort of response, but this turned into full on headcanons oops.

So just in case anyone missed it, here is the original post!

My thoughts change a little bit depending on whether MC is present when the characters receive the pictures, so I included both! I only did the bros but I might be willing to do the rest upon request!

the brothers react to MC giving them an album of boudoir photos

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: suggestive but that's about it, nothing explicit

Lucifer

When you're with him, Lucifer is calm and courteous, but with a flare of arrogance. Of course you would give him such a special gift. It's only natural that you would trust such intimacies to him.

He asks you if you're trying to tell him something. Has he perhaps been neglecting you, MC? Did you give him this so that he wouldn't be able to help himself? He's onto you.

No matter your reason, he can't look through too many of the pictures before wanting the real thing that's sitting right next to him. Tell him you still have some of that lingerie in your possession. Especially if you happen to have some in his colors.

If you aren't with him, he's going to be a lot less arrogant in general. He will find you later, make no mistake. But he's honestly so touched by your gift that he spends a lot of time looking through the album, simply admiring you.

Mammon

Mammon is freaking out no matter where you are the time. If you're with him, it's definitely a lot worse. Blushing profusely. Opens the album then slams it shut because he can't handle looking at it for very long.

You can't help but giggle at his reaction and then it's all stop laughin' at him MC!! You'll need to take his hands or maybe kiss his cheek, let him know that you genuinely just wanted to give him a nice gift, you aren't trying to tease him or anything.

Ask him if he likes it. You'll get a serious response. Calms down enough to say 'course he likes it. Likes it so much, he suddenly can't keep his hands off you.

If you aren't with him at the time, he buries it under his pillow or otherwise hides it because this is now one of his treasures and nobody gets to see it but him!

Leviathan

Levi is another one who'd be a blushing mess no matter what, but if you're there at the time, he might retreat to his room and not let you in. He needs that barrier between you because if he sees you right now, his heart will explode.

He'll let you back in eventually, but it might be a minute. He needs to calm down. Are you trying to kill him, MC?! Even when he does let you in, he can't look at you directly. He's probably covering his face with his hands.

Reassure him that you gave these photos to him because you trust him with them. They're personal, intimate, and you want him to be close to you. He's going to calm down the more you talk to him. Pull his hands away from his face and when he sees the sincerity in your eyes, it flips a switch. Might even slip into demon form just to wrap his tail around you possessively.

If you're not with him at the time, he's going to need to take care of that raging boner of his right away. He won't be able to focus on anything else until he does. He's so embarrassed, he has to watch several episodes of Ruri Hana to recalibrate.

Satan

He will try to keep his expression unreadable. He's not having any over the top reactions, but as he flips through the photos, he keeps getting redder and redder. You're sitting right next to him, how can he not react? At some point, he has to close the album because he feels like he's looking at something he shouldn't.

Satan is quiet about how flustered he is, but he's having a hard time looking at you. He tries to say something and incomprehensible lines about how beautiful you are fall from his lips. He sounds like a broken record of spoken word poetry or perhaps a very drunk beat poet.

Recovers himself after a minute. As soon as he's composed, you're in his arms. You knew what this would do to him, didn't you, MC? You'll find yourself pressed up against the nearest wall in moments.

If you're not with him, Satan will tuck your album into a stack of his other books. He thinks it's well hidden there - in plain sight. But he's hyper aware of it. Keeps coming back to look at it. Ends up having to put it on the bottom of a stack behind a different stack to make it more difficult to get to.

Asmodeus

Thrilled. Absolutely thrilled in every way. Oh, wow, MC, you look amazing. He's breathless. He's entranced. He's even blushing because he knows what it means that you've given these to him. He's so in love with you, he can't stand it.

Asks you about everything you may be wearing. Comments on the skill of the photographer. Tells you that next time, you should do one together. He has so many ideas. He wants to do one where all you're wearing is jewelry - bright and sparkling, just like your soul.

Covers you in kisses. He's not shy about how this is making him feel, how much he wants you. He just wants to see your beautiful figure here and now in real life, MC! Won't you let him worship you?

If you're not with him, he will find you immediately so he can say all of the things he needs to say in that moment. You can't leave him alone with all these feelings, both physical and emotional. He brings them all to you without hesitating.

Beelzebub

It might take him a minute to understand exactly what he's looking at, mostly because he's never even heard of this. He doesn't know what a boudoir photo shoot is, so you might have to explain it to him. Once he understands, he starts lightly blushing as he looks through them. His expression is serious because he's beginning to see just how special this is.

Honestly surprised that you would give him something so intimate. He's touched. He's going to hug it to himself and look at you with tears in his eyes because he can't believe how lucky he is.

Give him another couple minutes to look through them and then he's having different feelings. He's not sure if he can hold back, MC. Tell him it's okay, that you don't want him to, and you'll find yourself on your back on his bed in zero seconds flat. You're quickly reminded why he's the Avatar of Gluttony.

If you're not with him at the time, he will figure things out on his own, though he'll have a plethora of questions for you later. He keeps it close to him at all times until you answer them because he knows one thing for sure - he doesn't want anyone else seeing these.

Belphegor

Oh, he sees what you're playing at. Trying to fluster him, are you, MC? Trying to rile him up? Are you sure you can handle him when you do that? He's so wound up by the gift he can't act normal about it. He's actually very touched by it, but he's not sure how to deal with the feelings, so he comes on too strong.

You laugh because to you, this is expected. You understand that this is Belphie's way of dealing with his own shyness. You respond by meeting him with just as much intensity. It's all kisses and touching and fumbling in the dark.

It's only later, when both of you are calm, when you're nestled in his arms, that he admits to you how much it means to him. That he tells you how he'll cherish the album you gave him. That he says he's stunned by how gorgeous you are, even more brilliant that the stars in the sky.

If you aren't with him at the time, you'll be dealing with a petulant but horny demon later on. He's going to be annoyed at you for leaving it for him and then not being there when it inevitably turns him on. Just as possessive as his brothers, he hides it in the attic where no one is likely to find it.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[copperbadge]

i was thinking of you the other day and your discussions of your ability or lack thereof to visualize things in your mind, because someone asked me who all had been at a gathering, and i answered them by calling up the room in my memory and looking around it to see who was there. and it occurred to me after the fact that i suppose probably not everyone can do that? but i could even tell you at least approximately what everyone was wearing (color, cut, maybe not precise pattern, but the general style, sure). and while i can’t swear to you that it’s 100% accurate because i don’t have a picture to compare it to, i think it’s pretty close.

but now i’m curious - what would your thought process be if you were asked the same question? if you can’t just look around the room in your mind, is the memory interaction-based? or like… voices you remember hearing? or something else?

Well, bear in mind that I haven't got a great memory to begin with -- possibly the ADHD at work, but also there's a condition that's frequently comorbid with aphantasia called Severely Deficient Autobiographical Memory -- people with SDAM have trouble recalling huge chunks of their lives and when they do have recall they often remember it as if they'd been told it, they have no emotional sense attached. For example, I remember a trip I took where I had to do some hard shit and it was really scary, but I don't remember the feeling of being scared, I just remember that I was. I have no idea how long the trip was, no memory of the hotel room, very little memory of doing the scary thing. I know I did it, but there's not a lot of attachment there.

This is not ALWAYS the case -- for example I have extremely fond memories of certain other trips -- but I don't really seem to be able to switch it on or off. Like when I was in Europe, I stayed in an AirBNB in London, but by the time I got to Rome like, five days later, I couldn't remember what it was like. I ended up spending a little time one evening kind of calling up memories of where I stayed in London and in Paris to try and hard-code them into my memory, and that worked, but I also needed the help of photos and tumblr posts I'd made to achieve it. ("What did it even look like? Well -- wait, I cooked some pizzas in the microwave while I was there. The microwave was on the counter, opposite the bed, and -- oh, okay, I remember now.")

So like, I would have no goddamn idea of the majority of people at any given gathering where I attended, but is that SDAM, ADHD, a function of my anxiety in social situations, or the aphantasia? Difficult to say.

I hosted a get-together on Sunday and because I was host and there weren't that many people in attendance I could name them off, but I couldn't tell you what they wore. The last party I attended, a week or two previously, was at a friend's house and it was mostly folks I was at least passingly familiar with, but I am bad with names and so couldn't NAME a lot of the people there -- but for example I could say "Well, the hosts were there, and I spoke with X, Y, and Z, so they were definitely there, but I also spoke with like four other people whose names I didn't get. I dunno what any of them were wearing even though it was a costume party." But yeah to even come up with that I would have to think about when I arrived, walk myself through whatever I remember of the event in linear order, and just note down who I spoke with. If I didn't speak with them, or if I didn't know them well, they didn't exist for me.

So I guess the answer is that my memory isn't visual and also just kinda...isn't there a lot of the time. It's not like amnesia, or the profound brain damage you read about where the person only remembers the last ten minutes or doesn't remember anything past a certain date in their life, but I just haven't got much memory for things. It's why I use a lot of lists and spreadsheets and make yearly photobooks.

My photo archive on my computer goes back to about 1998, and it's sorted by year, but the top level folder all the years are stored in is simply titled "Where I've Been" 'cause I probably wouldn't remember, otherwise.

[iamnmbr3]

I find your analysis' really fun and I love how JKR, unintentionally created a narrative where drarry somehow has more chemistry than ginny who's literally forgotten in the 3rd, 4th books???? Like mam, if you want to build a romance then make them have actual conversations? I, myself like ginny and like the concept of hinny but the way JKR sucked at writing them infuriated me.

But anyhow, I also love drarry, though as much as I like and agree with your assessment; there is something I'll have to disagree with, and that is I don't harry found draco attractive. Because the thing with Harry is; no matter who that person is, my guy is really honest with how he views that person. Each time as he saw Riddle grow, my guy was like; hot damn. Also Cedric. Sirius. Bro literally calls regulus "not as hot as Sirius" so we are know Harry has never once found draco attractive. As for the gleaming eyes, pointy chin; well I also like giving my characters good description so people would understand what to imagine; I'm not making everyone simp on about everyone. promise!!!!!!

( I just like them falling in love after the war, and Idrc if they found each other good looking or not, I just don't like how people just take basic description of a character and says oh he describes how he looks, he must like him!!!!! No guys, he is just saying bro has a pointy chin and his eyes glows because he probably is gonna do something!!!!!)

I just wanted to get this out and I am not really active on Tumblr, and don't like posting. This is just me wanting to discuss this one hc😞 but I hope u have a good day and I adore ur hcs and analysis.❤️

Thank you! And yeah I feel like JKR really did Ginny dirty with the way hinny happened. I like book 5 Ginny so much more than book 6 and 7 Ginny. She deserved so much better than to be reduced to a love interest who is "Harry's perfect girl" to use JKR's phrase rather than someone who got to be her own fully realized character with a distinct personality and interests (as she was in book 5 before JKR overdid it trying to make her the ideal Love Interest TM). I think it would've been cool if she ended up with Neville since they bonded during their year at Hogwarts in book 7 and fought side by side and mutually respected each other as equals.

It just says it all that after the Battle of Hogwarts Harry doesn't have a single interaction with her. He immediately wants to spend time with Ron and Hermione because he feels a deep bond with them but just vaguely thinks that there will be time to talk with Ginny later. He isn't even sitting by her at the table because it's Luna who is next to him and offers to create a distraction so he can leave.

As for Harry's descriptions of Draco, I'm going to push back on that although of course everyone is perfectly entitled to their own interpretations. The thing is, Harry is extremely judgmental about people's looks and insults the appearances of all the other Slytherins. A lot. But he NEVER does that with Draco. Ron does. Ron insults Draco's looks all the time. But Harry never goes along with it or agrees and his internal monologue and descriptions of Draco are notably lacking the insults he directs at almost every other member of Draco's House as well as other people he dislikes.

But that's not because he isn't looking. Because he is. A LOT. He doesn't just describe Draco's looks. He dwells on them. Repeatedly. We know SO much about how Draco looks because Harry CONSTANTLY notices and mentions it in his internal monologue. Draco's grey eyes are mentioned repeatedly in every book. As is his sleek blond hair. Harry doesn't even mention Ron's eye color once till book 7, but we get multiple descriptions of Draco's eyes down to the exact shade - specifically pale grey. And same for his hair - along with observations about how it gleams in the sunlight. Even when Harry's in danger he takes a second to check out how Draco's looking. And that is at odds with how he describes other characters.

He never calls Ginny pretty or beautiful either but he does seem to have at least some level of physical attraction to her and often describes her hair...and that's pretty much it. Yeah I'm pretty sure that relationship fizzles once the peace happens. (I've read very compelling metas on Harry being gay and I think there's a lot there though personally I do still read him as bi but with a strong preference for men).

Draco is someone that Harry would not get together with till after the war. And I don't think he wants to acknowledge, even to himself, that he is attracted to him. But he sure spends a lot of time repeatedly noticing and describing and thinking about Draco's appearance in a way he doesn't with other characters. Something is making him look. And I think that something is attraction.

Now obviously this was completely not JKR's intent. The problem is that she wrote the story from Harry's POV not from the POV of an omniscient third person narrator. So while she didn't mean to make Harry constantly notice all the cute guys and obsess over Draco's looks for 7 books that is accidentally what she did.

[shiny-jr]

how to steal a heart (I)

[ a dummy's guide on how to steal the heart of a poor pathetic man ]

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Female reader. 

- Note: This has been an idea (heavily inspired by Howl's Moving Castle) I had in my docs since fall 2022. I was talking to a mutual about how writing on Tumblr vs Quotev feels very different. If I leave something unfinished on Quotev, I feel incredibly guilty which prevents me from posting new stories. However, on Tumblr, I don't feel as guilty. Not sure why. Anyways, I know most of my followers here don't care for my ocs, and I've been wanting to post this for so long. So instead of posting on Quotev, I'll post it on here just to get rid of the urge to share this story (might delete this later). This is the same story I posted that little screenshot of not too long ago, and that screenshot was basically just the prologue chapter. So yeah. Hope you enjoy?

IN WHICH THERE IS A SEAMSTRESS . . .

Black smoke concealed the window like a thick veil as the walls around her shook. It was a sure sign that the train was inching by. The screech from its whistle and clanking against the railroad tracks, so loud that it must’ve been heard over a mile away, only confirmed her guess. Her hands continued to cut smoothly through the linen fabric, separating enough to fulfill another order placed this morning. As the young woman worked to separate the colors and gather more material, the corner of her eyes caught sight of the smoke concealing her perfect view. 

The train’s fading motion and clanging against the tracks was eventually replaced by chatter just outside her workshop. It all became background noise, as she began to utilize the sewing machine. Lines formed over the cloth, blending it and connecting so they formed an article of clothing. Needles, pins, and scissors cut and dug deep through the cloth. Buttons of all shapes and sizes were neatly organized in little boxes, so she could easily take what she needed. Time just seemed to fly as she worked so quietly and efficiently, oblivious to the hours ticking by. Any other noise fell on deaf ears, even as a knock resounded on the firm wooden door that happened to be wide open already. 

A pause before the person tried again, knocking a little louder again. “(Y/n)?” 

Snapping out of her efficient trance, the tailor snapped to attention and straightened her sitting posture. Gazing at the door and back the window where the sun was much lower than before, it took her a moment to figure out what exactly was going on and what time it was. It was later in the day, and the woman at the door was Dalena… Well, everyone called her Ma Dalena because she was a kind older lady who tended to see the young female tailors as her own children. At least, most of the tailors. 

“We closed up five minutes ago. You can go now.” Ma Dalena gave an encouraging smile that displayed the dimples on her skin, showing signs of age evident by the wrinkles. Judging by her long dress and small woven handbag hanging from her wrist, it was probably safe to assume that she had evening plans. “Why not spend the rest of the day with us?” 

Us. Correct she was again. As welcoming as the invitation was to join Ma Dalena and the other tailors, she wasn’t willing to join them anymore. Not after the first time when she dared to venture with them. After shifts, the tailors had a tradition of going out into town. Not that it was a bad thing. But they used their time cafe hopping, searching for flirtatious men to satisfy their need for affection. Oftentimes, they would get caught up with the pushy kind. And ever since some troops from the military have returned from their duties, well… encountering a bunch of men who hadn’t felt the touch of a woman in months, was not ideal. At least for her. 

Taking her foot off the pedal to pause her work and silence the sewing machine, she pretended to consider the invitation before mustering a polite smile with a shake of her head. “Hm… It sounds nice. But I promised the client I would finish this so they can pick it up tomorrow. So I’ll stay, but have fun. Have another drink in my place, alright?” 

Ma Dalena merely nodded in understanding, her polite smile turning somber as she turned on her two-inch heels and began walking to the front entrance. The chatter of the other tailors ready and eager for the rest of the day off, went quiet as she announced, “We’re leaving now. Hurry now if you’re coming!” 

The chatter resumed, accompanied by the sound of more heels tapping quickly against the wooden floors in an effort for the straying members to catch up with the group. They complimented each other's outfits they spent days making by hand, discussing various fashion trends, gossiping about clients and others in town. 

In a way, she did and she didn’t regret accepting the invitation. It may have been nice to have good company for once, but it never felt right when she was present within their clique. It was as if she were trying to forcefully add a puzzle piece to an already complete puzzle, which is why she stopped forcing it. She wouldn’t want to sit there awkwardly during tea, unsure what to say as they spoke so confidently and loudly. It felt as if she were an imposter, someone trying to disguise themselves to blend in. It was why she worked in a small separate room, away from everyone else. That, and because she was the fastest tailor there. Part of her wondered if Ma Dalena was beginning to dislike her since she turned down invitation after invitation. But how was she to explain what she was feeling, when it would only sound like whining? 

Drowning out her thoughts with work to occupy the space in her mind, she pressed her foot against the pedal and began sewing once more. The loud hum of the machine filled her ears as it worked against the red cloth under her fingertips. This was the way it was supposed to be. Mindlessly spending her waking hours working at a craft she didn’t excel at, but was decent enough to earn wages in. All while wondering what could’ve been, and secretly hoping that maybe soon there is something that can be–– 

“Look! Look out there! It’s Reyes’ temple!” 

“Reyes?!”

“Where? I don’t see it!” 

“There! Over the hill!” 

Now that was something you don’t see everyday. Everyone retreated back to the window, desperate to catch a glimpse, even Ma Dalena. Halting her work once again, (Y/n) too was the tiniest bit curious. 

In truth, magicians failed to interest her, not that she had an opportunity to see them much anyways. But all those in Etére knew to be cautious of two particular magic wielders: La Bruja de Bruez, the Witch of Bruez, and Reyes Ladrón de Corazones, Reyes the Thief of Hearts. The pair were like the local boogeymen, tales of their horrendous deeds spreading and becoming bedtime stories for children in order to scare them into good behavior. 

Ever since her youth, she heard stories of La Bruja de Bruez. It was said that she was a wicked woman who’s lived for over a hundred years. A slight against her is taken seriously, and she curses those she comes across. But she was no mere fairytale. The witch has been a thorn in the country’s side for a long time, as she terrorizes the towns she visits. There hasn’t been much action taken against her, because she’s so powerful that hardly anyone stands a chance and she’s so elusive. Besides, the royal family don’t particularly care if the witch curses a random citizen every month or so, as long as they don’t have to risk pawns in their own arsenal of magicians just to take her down. 

Only a few years ago, a second magician with fearsome spells and a horrible reputation, appeared. Reyes Ladrón de Corazones, or more commonly known as Reyes, was another brujo many feared, although not as much as his counterpart from Bruez. There were rumors, yes, but they were more lighthearted with little evidence to ever back up the claims. While the Bruja de Bruez spared no one, it was said that Reyes chose to pursue only young beautiful women. If you asked around town, half of the population would consider him a threat, while the other half would giggle and whisper about his rumored good looks. Maybe that’s how he lured them in? With charms. Either way, he was a cause for concern. It was said that at a young age after abandoning his position as apprentice under the royal sorceress, the most powerful known magician, he not only challenged her but won and stripped her of her powers. Of course, no one can neither confirm nor deny it, as the king kept a tight lid on the situation and supposedly those who approach Reyes meet a terrible fate. But his abode was proof enough of his sheer strength. It was like a castle, a temple wandering on mechanical legs, rumored to not only be fueled by magic but also made of it.

Through the mist and low hanging clouds, just over the rolling hills on the horizon she could make out the distinct shape of a temple. A magnificent temple that appears so small from so far away. But she knew that it was a beast, a titan wandering the wilderness where very few dared to venture. It prowled around on its mechanical legs, spewing black smoke as the only trail it left behind. Reyes’ moving temple disappeared behind the clouds, seemingly vanishing from sight. Onlookers within the tailor shop could only awe and wonder aloud what the brujo was like, what was true and what was not, their minds creating horrible fears and outlandish fantasies that would take root as rumors. 

Lowering her gaze back to her work, she resumed once more, but the rumors overpowered the hum of her machine until their words reached her. The other tailors proceeded back to the front entrance, marveling about what they just witnessed. Was he hiding from soldiers practicing their flights just outside the town? Did you hear that he literally steals the hearts of women, but only beautiful ones? Someone said that a pretty waitress on the other side of town had her own heart torn out and stolen by Reyes just last week! 

The door was shut and she was alone, left with her work and the noise outside. Swiftly she worked, able to repair tears and wears with ease and create other things. Able to get lost in the work for much longer, until she felt the ground shake and the screech of another whistle. The afternoon train. It’s smoke covering her window once again. It was getting late already. Not wishing to waste the rest of the day by continuing work or go to bed with a book she had already read twice, she switched off the machine and organized all the tools back into their places. Brushing off all stray strings from her dress, she then rearranged her completed work thus far and prepared to have a different kind of day. 

Today, she would try to make it a can be sort of day. Even if it meant just visiting a close friend like Lía at the bakery. Just putting out the effort to go out today was more than she was usually willing. Although wishing it would be something special, a proper can be day without even trying, was like wishing to be acknowledged by a person you admire but never once talked to, it was much like winging it on a test without studying and praying you would get a perfect score even though knowing that it’s almost near impossible. But it isn’t statistically completely impossible, so you cling to that thin shred of hope that’s as taut as a piece of string. 

The whirring of small planes buzzed overhead, the flying machines brandishing their flags like the proud and numerous soldiers. On nearly every home and business, there was the flag hanging over the door, a symbol of patriotism and support of the war effort. (Y/n) quickly crossed the streets and reached the trolley station that would take her further into town. Right now there was not a soldier in sight, but that was sure to change the closer to the center of town she got. She only prayed that there wouldn’t be any trouble with them. 

The trolleys were full, people all going towards the center of town, in the same direction the planes overhead flew towards. If she had to guess, most of the people within the trolley were likely friends or family of returning soldiers. All giddy from the victory high of a major battle just won. 

While watching the scenery go by, she wondered how Lía was fairing. 

It was because of Lía and her family that she now worked in a tailor shop. (Y/n)’s parents had met an unfortunate end while traveling outside the kingdom. They were doctors dedicated to a good cause, determined to stay in dangerous war torn lands to heal and treat the poorest of folks. While she was busy with school and often alone but checked on by family friends, her parents were saving people an ocean away in a faraway land where Milavi’s war had spread. They had been too close to Milavi claimed territory, likely mistaken for doctors healing rebels, and were thus punished for their good deeds. With no one left to turn to, her family’s closest friend, Señor Obregón, adopted (Y/n) and treated her as one of his own. 

Señor Obregón was a quiet but respectable man that spent his time either working or with his family. He was the one that taught her how to sew, knit, and tailor, after she became curious of his skills. There were two other girls, Lía and Cova, a few years younger than (Y/n), which is why she became the oldest sibling. Lía was the beauty admired all throughout their childhood and still beloved to this day. She most resembled her mother, but she wasn’t half as vain. Cova was the youngest and somehow the smartest, as she was able to quickly grasp the concepts from lessons even in (Y/n)’s class, despite being a few grade levels apart. She mostly resembled her father and his own wits. Then there was her, (Y/n), who had… whatever was left. Of course she never held any resentment toward her sisters, since they were always well behaved but perhaps a bit annoying with their squabbles. Lastly, was Señora Obregón, Rosita, who she just called Tia Rosa for short, was never rude or dismissive to her. Tia Rosa was actually very outgoing and talkative, but she was the sort of woman that wouldn’t be caught dead wearing something from last season. She desired the finer things in life and settled for no less, which is probably why Señor Obregón ended up in an early grave due to working himself to death just to try and afford the luxuries his wife craved. 

Immediately after the funeral, while they were still dressed head-to-toe in black and their eyes were puffy from crying, Rosita sat all three of her daughters for a conversation about the future. It would be impossible for her to keep them all in school, especially considering she hadn’t worked a day in her life. However, she wasn’t cruel enough to just toss her young girls out into the streets with nowhere to go. So, she devised a plan for each girl. Cova would be able to best utilize her smarts in a challenging field full of promise, which is why she was sent to a good witch in the next town over, to become an apprentice in magic. Lía was already very popular around town, she would thrive in a social environment like the bakery on main street where to this day men constantly asked for her hand. As for her, (Y/n), she would stay here in Obregón’s tailor shop, where Tia Rosa deemed was best fit. Afterall, she did know how to carry on the business, she had even helped their reputation grow substantially as more people came in every day and profits increased. Although, she hardly had the time to spend the earnings on herself, that’s what Tia Rosa was there for. Rather, never there for. She’d collect earnings from the business (Y/n) ran and would disappear for weeks or months at a time to another town or city. But that's besides the point… 

By now, the trolley she was on was near the center of town that happened to be within blocks away, the streets became crowded with people walking on foot. On roads below bridges, there were lines of military tanks rolling by. Not much further in, the sidewalks were jam packed with hundreds, upon thousands, of people. Confetti rained down, banners and flags were strung from every corner and door. Every window was occupied as citizens cheered and waved at the parade of temporary victors, a show of military strength. Soldiers in their crisp uniforms marched in unified lines, cavalry on horseback carried large flags. 

As the density of the crowds increased, and the volume of cheers and the parade along with it, she felt her heart beat louder. This was too much, it was too loud, she couldn’t even think…! But she had come this far, to go back home now when she was so close would be a little pathetic. Avoiding the commotion like a plague, she decided it best to take the maze of alleyways to calm her nerves. There were hardly any people on those backstreets, just the occasional stationed soldier. Focusing her gaze on the war propaganda posters on the brick and clay walls underneath window boxes filled with colorful flowers, she pretended to carefully study them as she increased her pace from a calm stroll to a quick speed walk, examining the items as if they were the most fascinating objects she ever saw. Really, she’d rather not make awkward eye contact with the soldiers on guard that watched her like a hawk, which is why she hurried along until they were out of sight.

Now that she was alone, with the crowds and their entertainment separated from her by walls of homes and businesses, she felt relief as the once loud sounds melted into background noise. For now she could concentrate on the address scribbled out on the folded piece of paper in her hands, and her anxiety could be replaced with confusion as she attempted to navigate these small hidden paths. This was only the second time she was on this path, since (Y/n) barely had time to ever go out due to work and her own incompetence. The first was on a holiday some weeks ago when the shop closed early, which granted her a few hours to venture on the main roads to the bakery where her friend worked. This was the second time, and she’s never taken the back roads, which was why she couldn’t tell left from right here. 

Just in time, she looked up from her note to stop her feet from moving, as she came face-to-face with an obstacle. It wasn’t another dead end, this obstacle wore clothing and golden pins, and had a head that could easily look down from his height and see the top of her hat. Immediately she stiffened up and took a step back, hesitantly forcing her eyes to look up at the smiling soldier that casually leaned against the wall. 

The young man only appeared amused as she jumped a step back in surprise. (Y/n) noticed that delighted sparkle in his eyes, as if her skittish self and startled reaction was his entertainment for the afternoon. Before she could open her mouth to mutter an apology and force her head down to continue ahead, the man leaned just a few inches closer to get a better look at her face hidden by the rim of her colorfully embroidered sun hat. “Huh, just like a mouse. Are you lost?” 

A mouse… A skittish field mouse. Would that then make him a rat or a predator? Holding her tongue so not as to speak her mind, she merely shook her head. Offending a soldier would not be good. Not that she had the confidence to say the quick comeback that came to mind anyways. “No… I’m not lost.” That was a lie. 

The young soldier persisted, refusing to move off the path as he continued to block her way. “You look lost. Say, what do you say to an invitation to tea? Afterwards, we can go over directions and escort you to where you’re heading.” Even his partner in patrol, an older gentleman, also a soldier but likely more experienced by at least a few years, moved from his post and approached in curiosity. 

As the second man stepped closer, she could distinctly hear his polished shoes tapping in a steady rhythm as he stood beside his friend. Her own heart rate easily outpaced his steps, and it wasn’t increasing due to excitement, it was due to growing unease. Yes, she knew rationally that these soldiers likely meant no harm and merely wanted to flirt, but her mind could only conjure up the worst possible scenarios as she reminded herself that they outnumbered her, they were stronger, and they had their long firearms strapped to their backs. Keeping her head down, she replied, “Thank you, but no. I’m supposed to be meeting up with someone.” 

Just like the first did, the second soldier bent down a bit to peer at her features. Just like his accomplice, he wore an amused smile as he shook his head and remarked. “A mouse? That’s not very nice. Don’t worry, you’re much better than a simple little mouse.” 

Rolling his eyes, the younger soldier only continued, “If you’re old enough to drink, we can go to a bar if that’s more your style? Do you live around here?” 

This was getting ridiculous. Did they never learn to accept rejection? No means no, even children could comprehend that. But for now, she was at their mercy, no one would come to help her here. It would be up to them to decide she was no use for any fun and let her go, or continue to persist for their selfish desires. “No. Please let me pass.” 

Barely phased by her firm reply, the younger of the two turned to his partner and scoffed, “See? I told you the girls don’t like the beard you’re growing out. It scares them.” 

It’s as if her plea went through one ear and out the other, not swaying them in even the slightest bit. The older gentleman merely rubbed the stubble on his chin, “It makes me look better. Besides, I’m sure she doesn’t mind. She might even prefer a man with facial hair.” Actually, the word gentleman did not describe him well. 

In that moment she was wondering, would she truly risk it all just to snap back in reply? It must’ve felt so satisfying, but was it necessary? Later, would she come to regret her decision or revel in it? Would she seriously use this sprouting frustration, minimal not only compared to her current fears but also in the grand scheme of things, to temporarily push past her anxiety and say something…? Probably not. As annoying as these men were, like the constant buzz of a pestersome fly, they hadn’t caused any harm except to waste a bit of her precious free time. 

“Ah, there you are, mi corazón. I was worried about you.” A smooth and silky voice interrupted.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Drawing each other (CRPS 1/2)

I'm probably going to forget to break these posts up unless like- I dont write all the fandom parts at once so I'm sorry you guys have to see the same prompt but different groups of characters/fandoms over and over LMAO

Characters: slenderman, splendorman, masky, hoodie, ticci toby

Notes: reader is GN, admin tossed a coin on whether or not the reader is an artist or not

CWs: none

SLENDERMAN

neither of you are... good artists... but neither of you are about to judge one another for your skill levels

im... not even sure hes picked up a pencil before in his life, and that shows in his drawing of you

he keeps the art you make of him tucked away somewhere, where exactly... youre not actually sure, but you know he keeps them as youve caught him holding them before

you keep his drawings of you tucked away somewhere where they cant be damaged

... its not the best bonding activity, but its a nice little moment between the two of you that feels... normal

SPLENDORMAN

he love love loves watching you draw, so when you approached him with this idea hes over the moon! you want to draw him? and you want him to draw you as well? say no more!

hes not insanely skilled, but he doodles here and there! likes using bright colors, so expect his drawing of you to be vibrant! if you let him hes going to add extra stuff such as glitter and stickers! youre not sure where he gets them...

waits patiently for you to finish your drawing, he even does his best to sit as still as possible so you can get a better reference of him

even if its not your best work- in your opinion- hes going to treat it like its the greatest piece of art made by anyone ever

hangs it up on the fridge, and will constantly praise you

is it a little much? ...yes... but damn it hes going to let you know how much he loves it!

MASKY

i like to think that proxies are the ones who create slenders pages, and... well they arent exactly pretty, a lot being just scribbles

doesnt find much enjoyment in drawing, but he may agree to do this with you

now you on the other hand, you like drawing... and its likely masky may pick up on some of the things you do when making it, even if you dont notice him hes somewhere watching you

his drawing of you has the scratchy look a lot of the pages have... but since hes given more time to work on it, it looks a lot nicer than some of the pages even if theres some flaws in the anatomy and all

quietly looks at the drawing youve made of him, he doesnt seem offended by your portray of him so at least you have that going for you!

gently places it on the table, but youre sure hes going to put it in his stash somewhere in the house to keep for later

HOODIE

not much of an artist, and neither are you

generally the interaction is pretty light hearted, even if there isnt much talking between the two of you

very proud of his drawing of you, even if it ends up being a mass of colors that only slightly resemble you- similar to masky, theres a lot of that scratchy black scribbling on his drawing of you

gives you a thumbs up when he receives your drawing of him, he doesnt say anything but thats to be expected from him

tucks it into the back pocket of his pants

TICCI TOBY

he cant draw, but you can... it leads to a.. funny exchange

you put so much time into drawing him how you view him, even if its just a quick colored sketch, its going to look like mona lisa compared to what toby is about to show you

you both poke fun at the skill difference between the two of you, it quickly leads to the both of you needing to take minute in order to catch your breath

hes not interested in art, or improving his skills however hes going to jump at the idea of you offering to teach him some stuff

just to spend time with you, really! there isnt much spare time to do that given his being a proxy thing... likes any excuse to hang around

[koolades-world]

Okay follow me here what if jealous mammon is like why dont you ask x to do that with you? You're spending a lot of time with them. And mc just responds with they're not you

AHHH so cute

I'm 100% following gahhh that "they're not you" line is SO good

Us

You finally arrived home after RAD, giggling with Asmo. It had been mostly boring, but at least you shared most of your classes with Asmo. He never failed to make everything more interesting. He not only made group assignments fun and colorful, he even made silent, individual assignments better with lots of texts back and forth.

Weirdly enough, you hadn't seen Mammon today. You didn't have as many classes with him, but you always made it a point to spend some time with him when possible. But, you couldn't find him anywhere. You also didn't get a response to any of your texts to him. After you were done talking to Asmo, you decided to make it a point to find him.

"Mc! Look at how cute this outfit is!" Asmo snapped you out of thought by showing you his DDD. It was Majolish Devilgram with a post with their latest stock.

"That belt is so you! The pink is just your shade." You take the DDD from him to look at the post closer.

"I know, right? We should go today before they sell out! They know me, and will probably set some aside for me, but if they did that forever, how would they make a profit?" He laughed, tucking the DDD back in his pocket. Before you could respond, you caught a flash of white at the top of the stairs. You remembered that you hadn't seen Mammon all day, and in hopes that it was him, you decided to see if you could find him.

"Actually, do you mind waiting a little? I just remembered I have something I need to check on." You glance towards the stairs again but see nothing.

"Oh, of course! You know, if its Levi you want to check on, just know he's still alive. I texted him this morning. Just be back soon! Those clothes won't try themselves on. Let me know when you're ready to leave." Asmo gave you a quick hug, before walking off in the direction of the living room.

As soon as he was out of sight, you made your way up the stairs and in the general direction of that something that caught your eye. You began to wander around upstairs, in hopes of finding the white haired demon that had been on your mind all day. The door to Mammon's room was shut, but a light was streaming out from underneath it. Gently, you knock.

"Mammon? Are you in there?" There was no response, but you heard movement in the room. "I can hear you in there. Is something wrong?" You can hear more shuffling around before the door finally opens.

"What?" Mammon asked sharply. You're stunned for a moment. You've never heard him use that tone with you before.

"Are you ok?" You ignore the way he addressed you and continued.

"I don't know. How's Asmo?" His tone was dripping with malice.

"What's gotten into you?" You raise your voice a little, confused. He turned away from you.

"Don't you have somewhere to be with Asmo?" He walked further into his room, away from you. You step into his room after him and shut the door behind you.

"He did want to go to Majolish later, but it can wait. I can't go anywhere without checking up on you." You keep walking after him as he sit down on his bed with force.

"Just go then. I'm clearly not worth your time." He turns his body away from you. He sounds more upset than anything at this point. You sit beside him and put an arm around him.

"I don't know what you're talking about, but please, help me help you." You lean to try and look at his face, but give up once he makes it clear he doesn't want you to.

"If you like Asmo that much, just go be with him." He huffs. His voice is quiet with emotion seeping into it.

"Mammon. He's not you." He stiffened like he'd been shocked. "No matter how much time I may spend with your brothers, or anyone for that matter, they come no where close to being you. You were my first friend here, and you made me feel at home away from home. You were my first pact. We have a special bond that's so precious to me. Most importantly, you're my first man. Not Asmo. Not anyone else. You." He turns back to you, his eyes glazed over with tears that threatened to spill. "Is that what you needed to hear? Because it's all true." He turns his entire body towards you and tackles you into a hug. You can't see his expression anymore, but from the way he fiercely cuddles you to his chest, you can tell how happy he is.

"I- I'm sorry." He hesitates at first. After taking a deep breath, he continues. "It was stupid. I just saw ya hanging out with Asmo a lot lately, and I jumped to conclusions." He hides his head into your shoulder.

"There's no need to apologize for how you feel, Mams. Just try to be a little more open next time. I was worried, you know." You feel him happily sigh into your shoulder at the nickname. You rub his back soothingly.

"I will. 'm sorry for scarin' ya." Before you can tell him he doesn't need to apologize again, he continues. "Will ya stay with me? I don't care if ya bring homework or whatever into my room, I just want yer company." He holds himself tightly to you as you try to push off of him a little to look at him.

"Of course." You decided to hold him for a bit longer, to reassure him he was the only man for you.

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XVI)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here PART FOURTEEN is here PART FIFTEEN is here and this is sixteen *SixTeen theme plays*

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Martian Manhunter finds out that,yeah, dude, when your brain is missing chunks, you can't write or access data without the hardware to store it. My dude remembers nothing.

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Days pass. Nights pass.

(He thinks.)

He gets a new room. This one has a window. He can’t stare at it all the time, but when he does, he can feel himself growing stronger. Steadier. The change in his body is borderline tangible.

If only it was physical. He’s still too weak to lift anything but his arms, and not even all the way. Moving his head is tiring. Lifting his head is impossible.

But he tries.

A lot.

The doctors and the lady have to make upset noises with him when he does, but he wants to be able to see everything they’re doing to him. So far it’s a lot of tubes and needles, but what if they become scalpels and clamps?

…Danny tries to assure himself that they probably won’t be.

But they might. Things could change.

And that eats at him constantly.

Someone puts a big circle on the wall in his room. It’s large. It’s a little fuzzy at its distance on the far wall, but it’s got little arms on it, and little dots in equal degrees around the circumference. It takes him almost two napping periods to realize that it’s a clock.  

Danny squints. He can...almost read analog. (Probably.) It sure doesn’t help that he has no idea when night is and when day is, though. He sleeps at one hour and wakes up at another, and the room will look entirely the same. Was it a few hours’ sleep, or a day’s? Was it longer? The world spins outside his window, big and blue, and he spins against it in a station on a lonely moon. There’s no way to tell.

Someone eventually notices that he’s bored, though, because he gets a television and a remote.

It’s a super thin television. At first, Danny spends time wondering why they put a screen with no system in his room, and then hour later the lady starts pressing buttons on the remote, and the screen lights up with a news program.

…The TV is too far away to see all that clearly. He can see some of it when he squints, but then all the colors turn lime green.

The banner on the bottom of the screen scrolls with headlines, and cool, it looks like they invented new letters while Danny was asleep. Fantastic. His head hurts from trying to squint to read, but it kind of looks like a kindergartener scribbled all over an otherwise serious news report.

Great. Now he’s getting a headache.

But the noise is…nice. It’s distracting. The news anchors chatter seriously as Danny gets yet another IV swapped out in his arm, and the heavily geared-up doctors have started telling Danny things he doesn’t like to listen to too much because if it is threats, great, he should ignore that; if it’s not threats, then, well, Danny’s bored of it all anyway.

“—Wel?”

Danny blinks. Well. That sounds like ‘Well’.

He shifts just enough to make eye contact. A doctor looks down at him from their place at his bedside. Their scrubs are kind of blue-green, with little flowers on the trim.

They have human eyes. The sight of soft, brown eyes probably ought to be reassuring, but they just make Danny more nervous.

“Eow eart wel?” They ask again, soft and slow. That middle bit sounds kind of like ‘art’. Ha. Old timey Shakespeare. ‘Art well,’ like ‘you art well—‘

Wait. Danny takes a deep breath. Blinks. His chest arcs up, just a little—just enough for the doctor to realize that Danny’s more than just looking, he’s paying attention. Are they asking him if he’s well?

Danny reflexively opens his mouth and flexes his throat, tries to answer—

Nope. Ow. The noise he makes sounds like the garbage disposal is backed up with angry blob ghosts. It hurts just to make. But the sound makes the doctor look at him; they see him.

“Inne cwic tima!” Danny hears, and then they’re jogging out of the room, and Danny is left alone. His throat hurts.

His head thumps back onto his pillow. The news program plays on. There’s a damaged city he’s never seen before on the news.

…And then the doctor comes back. Danny’s head is swimming, so he almost doesn’t notice their return, but they’re holding something, and that something has a sippy straw.

Danny is perfectly happy with a sippy straw.

The straw is put into his mouth. Danny goes sippy sippy.

…The water sloshes a little weirdly through his throat. Some of his tubes might not be where they ought to be, which is weird. Isn’t he supposed to be human right now? Or. Uh. Kind of human? Human equivalent? …Close enough…?

Danny drinks. When the pain in his throat goes to normal pain levels instead of new and angry pain levels, he lets go of the straw, and the doctor lets him.

Their fingers carefully brush Danny’s hair. Not very hard. A little too slowly. Just at the hairline. But it reminds Danny so much of sitting at home with Dad on the couch, home from school with a fever as Muppets tapes play in the background, that tears leak out of his busted eyes. The tears are probably just as green.

“Eow eart wel?” the doctor asks again. So gently. So careful.

“I’m tired,” Danny rasps.

The effort of speaking crashes into him in seconds. If things are happening around him, he doesn’t understand any of it. Nothing reaches him. He’s so tired.

He’s out before he knows it.

[meyerlansky]

for wip title meme - Stalag shit pretty pls!

tagging @sluttyhenley and @redbelles since you guys asked about it to AND ALSO

bell you're getting called OUT 😈

sooo this is actually the first thing i started writing for mota and it was an unclog-the-pipe kind of idea and is self-indulgent with regards to wanting more bucky whump. i may actually never post it in totality for... a couple reasons, but i actually did a fuckton of research into how the stalags were run and kriegie culture inside of them, so it was a good exercise on a lot of levels even if it never sees the light of day. because it's sort of backburnered, that means i feel more comfortable posting BIG CHUNKS OF IT 🎉 but uh, that said, this one IS going under a cut because in addition to there being a lot of it, it's. dark.

cw noncon and psychological torture, you can probably guess where this is headed. the structure i settled into with this one is gale POV for the first part, wherein Something Is Wrong With Bucky:

Bucky shrugs, a quick, smooth shuffle of his shoulders that’s as big a lie as what’s coming out of his mouth. “Krauts get a little rough sometimes. Nothing anyone else didn't get.”

“They didn't do anything to me,” Gale says, every word feeling heavier than the last, pulling him down. “Just asked me some questions.”

Two things happen then. Something in Bucky’s face twitches, a flinch stealing over it so quick Gale barely catches it. But his shoulders drop, just a bit, some tension leaving him. Gale for the life of him can’t make sense of it.

“‘Course not, Buck,” Bucky says, light, easy, like Gale doesn't have a pit the size of the Atlantic opening up in his gut, cold flooding in. “Who'd wanna damage that pretty face of yours?”

From any of the boys, there might be some bitterness in it—it’s not like Gale doesn't know some of the goons cut him a break, ’cause of rank or coloring or whatever else. From John there’s just… relief. It feels wrong. The pit yawns wider, and the water gets higher. “Roughed yours up, though,” he says, the words feeling distant as he remembers the black eye John was sporting, that first day. The way John had grabbed his chin, tilted his head around, looking for something. Something like the beating he got, maybe.

That's what Gale had thought at the time. Now he’s not so sure that’s where it ended.

Bucky’s eyes go dark again, as distant and near-drowned as Gale feels, so he claws his way back. Tries, anyway. “Yeah, well,” John mutters, “better me than you.”

and what's wrong is not only was bucky sexually assaulted post-interrogation, but the guards told him they did the same to gale when he passed through the dulag, and he spends months beating himself up about not being there and being able to take it instead of gale, until he says something about it and gale's like ??? and bucky realizes it WAS instead but now gale KNOWS. second part's bucky's POV of the assault, so it's not chronological, and maybe it doesn't need to be shown/written at all but i wanted to because i like whump.

He’s got a headache the size of Texas, blood—his own, his own, not some kid in a cart’s, they let him wipe that off, so what's left is just his own, thank Christ—itching as it dries behind his ear, and a pit in his chest every time he thinks about Bremen and London and Russelheim and the way the woods smelled when he was running through them, clean and green and endless—

The door slams open, and Bucky gets two seconds to berate himself for jumping, for being so in his own head he didn't hear them coming, before one of the goons grabs his arm and yanks him up, spinning him to face the wall. Turns his head to the window on instinct, but the light spilling in catches him off guard and sends a new wave of pain spiking through his skull.

“Heya, fellas. Couldn't get enough, huh?” He shoots over his shoulder, hands up but grinning like nothing’s wrong, like he’s back at Thorpe Abbotts joking with the boys.

(Later on, he’ll wonder if that was what did it. If he’d just kept his eyes forward, his mouth shut, if they’d have—)

and the third part's gale POV again, after their little yard spat and is........ kind of recovery? inasmuch as one is capable of recovering while still stuck in a POW camp and going crazy with fear because no one takes your warnings about needing to get the fuck out seriously, and also your best friend punching you in the face is the most normal you've felt in almost a year:

“I’m sorry.”

The noise that comes out of Bucky’s bunk is barely human, a snarl more suited to Meatball, or the Kraut’s dogs. “You’re sorry,” Bucky snarls. “You are a real piece of work, Buck.”

He rolls over, kicks his legs out of the bunk, boots on, to glare up at Gale. “Saint Cleven,” he sneers, and he’s just pissed and it's nothing Gale hasn't heard before, but it still stings a bit. “I pick a fight and you’re the one who's sorry.” His eye’s already swelling up, purpling a bit at the edge. Again. Gale’s stomach roils looking at it. “It’s not bad enough that’s the first time you’ve treated me like normal—”

“Hittin’ you ain’t normal,” he bites out, before he can stop himself. He scrubs his hand over his eyes, just for a second, and when he looks back John's anger has dimmed a bit, banked coals instead of the inferno.

“It’s better than whatever the hell you’ve been doing the last few weeks.”

How’s that?” Gale says, sharper than he means to. Whatever he means, there’s nothing better in hurting Bucky. Not when he’s already had plenty more than his fair share.

“You won't touch me, Buck!” It’s hissed through John’s teeth but it hits him with all the force of a baseball bat to the face. It sits between them for a moment, heavy.

“That's not true,” he mutters, but there’s no strength in it, and John barely dignifies it with a scoff.

He tries again. “I didn't think you’d want…” He trails off, feeling stupid even as the words come out of his mouth. Bucky can't go ten minutes without slinging his arm around a pal’s neck, a clap on a shoulder, an elbow in someone’s side to get their attention. He couldn't, anyway. Before all this

“The hell d’you know about what I want,” Bucky snaps, like he doesn't wear every thought on his face clear as day. “I'm damaged goods, I get it, but I’m not some china doll—”

“You’re not damaged goods,” Gale shouts, the words bursting out of him like water from a burst pipe and loud enough to make John flinch back, shock all over his face.

sooo yeah! that's stalag shit! if i do ever get it done, i think it'll need some revisiting on the characterization, but honestly probably not that much. it is however the only purely-clegan wip i have, which means it would probably do better than alllllllll my other stuff even WITH the caveat that it's dark content. which is very funny to me in a bitter sort of way.

[blazingstar400]

Incorrect Scarlet and Violet Quotes Part 3

Guess who still has a bunch of these sitting in a document?

Juliana: Happiness is like rainbows! If you see one, you smile because it’s so colorful! Sometimes, you get two and you get double happy!! :D

Kieran: Sometimes, you always get none even after watching so many rainy days you just stop and you just sit there, disappointed that no matter your effort, happiness doesn’t want you and life just truly hates you.

Penny: *calling a therapist*

Kieran, at the beginning of Teal Mask: *looks like a cinnamon roll, is a cinnamon roll*

Kieran, at the end of Teal Mask: *looks like a cinnamon roll, could kill you*

Kieran, at the beginning of Indigo Disk: *looks like he could kill you, could definitely kill you*

Kieran, at the end of Indigo Disk: *looks like he could kill you, is a cinnamon roll*

*if Nemona was a waitress*

Nemona: Okay, guys, who wanted the macaroni and bees?

Everyone, at the table: …

Arven: …You mean cheese, right?

Nemona, struggling to keep the bowl covered: That does make more sense, actually—

Juliana, barging into Penny’s room, pushing in a wheelbarrow with Nemona in it: PENNY! NEMONA’S DEAD!

Penny: *gasps*

Nemona, getting up: That’s right! Dead serious about going to Disneyland!!

Penny: *groans*

Florian, about to leave Naranja/Uva Academy: Don’t spend all day watching anime, okay?

Penny: I forge my own path!

Clavell, tired: I’d like to live through one week in this school that’s not a whole new verse of ‘We Didn’t Start the Fire’.

Yukito, meeting Juliana for the first time: Oh, is this the girl your always telling me about, Kieran?

Kieran, nervously chuckling: AHA, Grandma! Stop making things up!

Yukito: She’s even prettier in person—

Kieran, opening a window and jumping out: Okay gotta run, bye!

Arven: Just when I thought Nemona couldn’t get any weirder, I saw her trying to write three different essays at the same time.

Arven: She was taking one essay at a time and writing a few sentences before moving onto the next.

Carmine: I think I’m getting sick, I’m losing my voice.

Juliana: That means you can’t yell at us anymore!

*later*

Juliana: Turns out Carmine is a lot scarier when she’s quiet.

Kieran: Do you think we could ever be… more than friends?

Juliana, beaming: I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED! I can totally see us as Pokémon! I even drew a picture, let me go ge—

Carmine: I keep a picture of all of us in my wallet. Whenever I face difficulties, I take it out and look at the picture.

The squad: Aww.

Carmine: And then I tell myself ‘If I can deal with these idiots, then I can deal with anything’.

The squad: Oh.

Arven: Did you get the eggs like I asked?

Nemona: Even better!

Arven: What did you do?

Nemona, holding up a chicken: Her name is Fluffy.

Kieran: What are you? Two?

Drayton: Yeah, two heads taller than you!

Kieran: *inhales deeply*

*5 minutes later*

Kieran: OPEN THE DOOR, YOU COWARD!!

Drayton: I WAS JUST JOKING! Juliana, calling Penny: Can you come pick me up? I think I’m lost…

Penny: I swear, if you got lost playing Pokémon Go—

Juliana: I caught an Eevee. If you pick me up, I’ll name it Penny.

Penny: I’m on my way!!

*when Juliana first meets Kieran again in Blueberry Academy*

Juliana: *going in to hug Kieran*

Kieran: *pushes her away and assumes a fighting stance*

Juliana: Hey, why’d you push me???

Kieran: I thought you were going to attack me.

Juliana: I was going to hug you!

Kieran, narrowing his eyes: Why would you hug me?

Juliana: WHY WOULD I ATTACK YOU?!

And that’s the end of part 3!! I still have so many quotes so there will probably be a part 4 in the future. (I swear I’ll post more than just incorrect quotes but they are just really fun to write lol.)

[breakfastatmiles]

Your art is wonderful!!!

A constant inspiration to my own creativity and art work. Could you explain some of your art style to me? I’m interested in looking at a bunch of different ones to try and finally find one for me.

Goodnight!!🌙

Thank you so much! That means the world to me! I’d be happy to share some of my process with you 😄

Keep in mind I’m completely self-taught, so this is just the process of how I make my drawings and not any sort of professional advice 😅 apologies for the long post ahead 😪

Starting with the basics, my biggest influences are Jin Kim and Ami Thompson. Both are amazing character designers and I really admire their stylization and expressions. Whenever I feel stuck on something, I always go back to their drawings for inspiration.

I typically start in Procreate with a canvas size of 3300px x 4200px or 11” x 14” with a DPI of 300.

I put my reference in the corner of the canvas (in this case it’s a screenshot from the movie She’s the Man) and I start my rough sketch (emphasis on rough). Sketching is probably the longest part in my drawing process because I’m focusing on expression, composition, proportions, etc. This usually has about two to three passes before I move on.

Then I lower the opacity of the sketch and clean it up with some lineart on a new layer. Lineart doesn’t play a huge part in my style, but I still like to play around with line weight. Since I knew this was going to be a fully rendered piece, I didn’t spend much time on lines that I knew were going to be removed later in the process.

Underneath all of that, I use the skin tone and color the base of the character. I make sure that I color ever so slightly past the lineart, for reasons that will be important later. This part can be tedious, especially because I use a textured brush, so there are a lot of gaps that I fill in later.

Then using new layers with clipping masks, I start the flat colors. Nothing too crazy here.

I’ve made color palettes for characters and backgrounds that I typically draw, so this way it speeds up the process and maintains style consistency. If I need a color that I don’t normally use, I’ll just play around with the colors until I find something that fits well with everything else.

Next, on a multiply layer, I add some basic shading (with the skin tone color) and blush (with an orange-pink color). I also move onto the background. Some are more complex than others. If I’m going for a more cinematic look, I’ll fill the background in with some basic shapes and blur it slightly. Thankfully the background was pretty simple in this reference.

I start checking proportions now that everything has basic colors. Then I duplicate my lineart layer and change it to a pinkish-red and put it on multiply mode and turn down the opacity. This is why the base color layer needs to line up with the lineart, otherwise there’d just be gaps underneath. Instead of erasing my black lineart layer, I put a mask on it and just keep the eyes and eyebrows.

Then I start working on the shading and hair, which is an entire process in itself. Maybe I’ll make a tutorial on that one day 😅

I also use some vivid light and soft light layers and put in some subtle colors for extra pizzazz.



Then I add a hard light layer to the eyes for that glossy look and on a normal layer add some white details just to make some things pop more (like the nose, lips, eyes, sometimes hair, etc.)

I did make an eye tutorial a while back, but my process is still the same!

Lastly, I spend a lot of time playing with different blending modes (multiply, add, soft light, vivid light layers) and really focus on the lighting. I used to focus on adding a lot more details and make the coloring more realistic, but I found that the more simplistic coloring was easier for me to do and fit my style better. Sometimes I still tend to go too far with the details and realize that it looks better when I tone it down a bit.

That’s pretty much it! Let me know if you have any questions! Hope this helps. Have fun making art!

[sugar-omi]

I hate myself for thinking this but, what if MC finds out she’s pregnant and the first thing in her mind is that she’s fucking up Cove’s future. So instead of telling him she just breaks up with him and shuts herself away from him so he can’t convince her that they’ll work it out. Now Cove has no clue why the love of his life just broke his poor heart. Skip to five years later, Cove comes back to surprise visit his dad but surprise there’s MC, Cliff and a little five year old boy that looks way too much like Cove. Like I’m talking copy and paste that’s a little Cove

oh my fucking god.... i. pls i have some thoughts but also OUCH. BIG OUCH

mmm i'm not gonna make a full fic/detailed post... maybe later if we're all itching for some angst or i'm up for causing more heart ache n then i am very much open to expanding on this (already thinking abt cove getting to know his son.... omfg my heart HURTS)

but i wonder how MC "gets away" (for lack 'a better words) with not telling cove about the kid.

because i can tell you right now, cliff and kyra can't know about it and keep it a secret. not for 5 years at least.

so does she beg everyone in her family to keep it a secret? i think that's the best bet. moms would really prefer Not to keep it a secret, but they also can't force you to tell cove...

but i also don't see them letting 5 years without cove at least knowing, go by either... they'd try to keep the secret, but seeing cove's sad face would break them quickly, if not instantly.

also your friends!!! god, they can not keep a secrete to save their life, especially that big. so you can tell them, but expect the news to find its way back to cove in about.. mmm... 4 hours? so yeah....

anyway!!! lets say that your family kept the secret...

i think your son would eventually start asking about his dad. he sees how you and your family react to him, hears all the mumbling about how he looks so much like... "cove"? when you think he's in the other room.

and he sees how sometimes you look sad and how you slowly and tenderly run your fingers through his hair. and how sometimes you tell him "yknow, daddy has hair just like yours."

and when he asks why you're sad, if you respond with something along the lines of "you look just like your dad, thats all."

or even if you say that in response when he asks what his dad looks like (if you haven't shown him pictures), or if he overhears you saying he looks like this "cove" guy

you notice he starts looking at himself more often... maybe even asking, "does daddy have green hair like mine?" "are his eyes really blue, just like mine?" "does he wear glasses too?" and still in awe that he and this man he's never met, but already seems to adore him (as much as a toddler can adore someone they don't know), share the same features.

and if you show him pictures of cove, which i hope you do, but if you don't, don't worry because your son will probably realize "he has green hair like me!!!!" and he'd either run up to enthuse about it or run up to ask him if he's his daddy bc they have the same hair color... or just call him daddy n if anyone tries to argue about it, wdym?! they have the same hair color, what more do you need?!

so hopefully, cove is the only man with specifically seafoam green hair. otherwise, you're shitting yourself every time your son runs off to meet his green-haired-brethern

anyway. I think all your sons questions, and seeing pictures, knowing that he shares so many traits with cove, and seeing you miss him.

oh god, seeing you sad would make him insist so so much on seeing cove.

"if we meet daddy, will you be happy again?"

also can't believe I almost forgot.. your son being sad about not having a dad, and being jealous of other kids for spending time with their dad, etc.

he'd ask you questions about why he doesn't have a dad, n if he does. why isn't he around? and a real heartbreaker.. does daddy hate him? does he not love him? is that why he isn't here?

so I guess that means it's time to go back to sunset bird! and finally explain why you moved away n never looked back, and why you don't talk to anyone but your parents from back then...

now I won't get into everything right now (im a fuckin liar. I can feel a tangent coming on)

but I wanna talk abt how cove would feel, just a bit, and how I think your future with him would look...

I think at first, he'd be really shocked, seeing this carbon copy of his much younger self. the only thing telling him that his 4-5 year old self didn't jump out of one of his many childhood pictures,

is any birthmarks or beauty marks that maybe you have, or the boys hair being curlier than his, or his skin tone, or maybe he has your nose. whatever it is, he knows he's looking at the imperfect combination of you and him.

(cove's heart is beating outta his chest right now, n you're lucky he only stumbles instead of fainting, because this really is a shock... but that deeper part inside of him, that egotistical, primal almost, part of his heart swells up at the thought, the reality. that his son looks mostly, if not entirely like him.)

but after shock, he's sad. I think he'd be really sad, because he realizes that this is why you broke up right? and no matter how in control of your emotions you think you may be, your wide eyes show how afraid, nervous, and sad you are. he knows. he knows without even talking to you and it hurts

and after he gets past the anger and confusion stage, maybe even in between in fact- which would be more natural since, I think he'd feel this all at once but that's besides the point

he'd be really sad he missed all his sons milestones. walking, first words... God he probably dreams about it (when he does eventually fall asleep), and now his heart is tugging at the seams and the seams are RIPPING.

he also starts thinking about how hard it must've been doing it by yourself. and going through all that without him, your partner.

but maybe you didn't rely on him like he relied on you? maybe you didn't trust him like he did you, maybe you just... didn't need him. like he needed you.

you did break up afterall, and you never let him know about the kid until now, so maybe you thought he'd be a failure of a father and nipped it in the bud before disaster struck...

but I also think that's where anger comes in. because you didn't tell him. he didn't have a choice at all.

he knows he had a tendency to hesitate or run away, but he thinks really hard about it, and he knows he wouldn't have ran away from this.

leaving you alone would scare him a lot more than being a father. being a bad or absent father would scare him a lot more than trying to be a good one. knowingly abandoning a life he helped create, would scare him so much more. he wouldn't be able to sleep otherwise.

so while he gets it. he doesn't get why you didn't try.

and if you explain that you worried about ruining his future, he's so upset and so mad because how could you make that choice for him? how could you take on the burden alone?

this is also where confusion merges in, because while the answers are so obvious or easy to guess, he just can't believe it. he doesn't wanna believe it...

now about your future...

cove still loves you. he's loved you his whole life, it's hard to stop even 5 years later... and seeing you, it makes his heart throb because he's dreamed about this for many nights.

you broke up with him without giving any answers. you even up and moved by the end of the week so when he tried to give you space, before talking to you, it was too late. your room was pretty much void of every sign of life.

you took all your treasured items, your clothes- spare some youd been meaning to get rid of, your pictures, your hobby items. everything. he's surprised you didn't just take the bed and frame.

he's surprised you didn't just carve out his heart n take it with you, because if it's still in his chest, why does it feel so hollow?...

it'd take a really long time to even think of a romantic relationship. if at all. maybe cove's even accepted the break up at some point, depending on how long you'd been together. but if you'd been together since you were 13, it's a hard pill to swallow. bc you can put up with his angsty teenage self, what changed...?

I think seeing you be a parent, and so adored by your son, warms up his heart. makes him fall in love a bit at the sight.

it's not instant, he's getting to know you again. and getting to know this life that he didn't even know was waiting for him.

it's a good 2 or 3 years of figuring out this mess until it becomes something that makes sense. or as much sense as it can make. and if there's still something there, no matter how miniscule. it will catch fire.

now about the kiddo... he's so scared. and I hope you took a few days of talking with cove, and prbly cliff n Kyra bc they have a lotta feelings n thoughts on this too, before you try to integrate cove into his life.

it's small. cove meeting you at the park, and either your son is asking cove a billion questions (both abt why the sky is blue, and awkward questions abt why he wasn't present before...)

or he's trying to drag him on the monkey bars (doesn't work, cove's feet are on the ground still....)

or he's sitting silently on the blanket, reading, occasionally showing cove his favorite scene of the picture book or making him pronounce a word

but it does get bigger, it becomes lunch-n-movie dates, spending the night at your house (at your son's insistence. prbly bc he didn't want him to leave after a fun day), then cove taking him out alone..

it's a lot. and sometimes it feels like you're going backwards or that you're not moving at all because it's hard, for awhile. and even though his dad is on speed dial, there's not enough information he can give cove in how to take care of and deal with a kid he just met a few months ago.

especially a kid who already has a bit of personality, is hell on wheels (like most 5 year olds), possibly has many questions n sometimes problems with cove suddenly being here... it's a lot. n cliff can't help with any of it really.

he does get comfortable, eventually. although there's still times when he's sad, sometimes even angry about what happened, and all he's missed out on, he's so so happy to not miss out on anything else.

[where-did-the-groove-go]

Okay, so I've been lucky enough to encounter a Volkswagen Thing irl on more than one occasion since constantly keeping an eye out for them in the past couple years, after first becoming aware of their existence as what Ron still stubbornly drives to this day. Actually, the first one I saw was a VERY lucky sighting, but I didn't even realize it was a Thing until afterwards. Because I'd been looking for something that looked like Ron's car. Not THIS:

That's the Acapulco Thing, which was briefly sold in 1974--only about 400 of them--after being designed to shuttle guests around at a couple of high-end beach resorts in Mexico. In retrospect I probably should've realized a lot sooner, because my reaction upon seeing it had been "What the heck is that THING?!" It dawned on me a couple days later, just because you'd be hard-pressed to find any other car that boxy, though a quick Google image search hadn't pulled up any with the surrey top.

(My second Thing sighting was much more as expected and obvious; it even had a decal plastered on its side which read "The Thing".)

Several months later, thanks to the Boss Accountant showdown being posted here, I found out that the Thing is a relatively rare car. Which prompted me to spend a few days fixated on reading about them. Then I was finally able to put a name to the Acapulco variant.

Something else I learned... Turns out that if you're anywhere near LA and you see a Thing that looks like Ron's, it almost definitely is.

(I say "near LA" only because I doubt Ron is doing any serious roadtripping in it these days.)

A bit of backstory: the Thing was advertised as a fun car. A beach cruiser, a safari car. Aimed at surfers and hippies and other adventurous types. It's a convertible. The windshield folds down. The doors can be taken off.

That's not the impression I initially had of the Thing, and perhaps with good reason: Ron's is a bit unique even among Things. For one, it has the less common factory hardtop on it, instead of the convertible one. Additionally, in 1974, black was not a stock color for Things. They only came in colors suitable for 1974: orange, yellow, white, and avocado green. Which means that more than likely, Ron specifically wanted his black (because of course he did), and would've had to go out of his way to get it repainted or find one that had already been repainted. A full repainting job is no small feat for a Thing because a lot of the metal is exposed inside the car, meaning that everything has to come out of it to have the interior repainted--and we can see that Ron's has.

Anyway, I just think that makes it all the more poetic. Not only does Ron's car reflect his personality in being "a little bit out of the ordinary", but his black utilitarian ride is a brightly colored beach-mobile in disguise. Nothing more fitting for a guy whose crisp shirts and ties and slicked-back hair and quiet demeanor would never belie it now but one of his formative experiences was spending the 1960s surfing.

So if you're ever feeling sad, just remember that Ron is driving the same car as the Acapulco Thing.

[karticatyt]

Next gen AU character roster!! This is mostly just an attempt to practice formatting posts and figure out how to use this app um ANYWAY

(heads up, this won’t be extremely in depth about lore or backstories, just simple introductions!)

This is the main roster in a row next to each other, along with their ages. Some of the art here is older than others… I’ll explain them in some more detail.

This here is Amber Gleam and her sister, Comet Trail! Long story short, Amber’s ‘real’ name is Cicada, and she is actually an adopted changeling, raised by Princess Twilight and later on her stepdad, Sunburst. Comet is her younger sister. Comet is competing with their cousin, Flurry Heart for royal guard status. I’ll talk more about Flurry later. Amber has been raised in the shadows for most of her life to hide her identity, which has led to issues socializing as well as a harsh reputation among the public as opposed to her sister.

Racing Heart isn’t actually the offspring of any canon characters, but she is an old OC that I love too much to remove, so she’s a part of my AU because she can. She’s a hopeless romantic lesbian who constantly crushes on all kinds of characters, but her eye is primarily set on Cotton Bow, who I’ll talk about next. I accidentally made her with lesbian colors back in 5th grade… I didn’t even know the word lesbian… wow…

Cotton Bow is the daughter of Mayor Diamond Tiara and Pipsqueak. She is best friends with Amber and they both bond over the issues that come from being the daughters of well known political figures and just wanting to be average, normal ponies. Although, Cotton doesn’t know about Cicada’s secret. Cotton’s special talent is knitting/crocheting (to her parents’ dismay) and she’s an introvert who doesn’t want to follow her family’s legacy.

Koi Concord is the son of Discord and Fluttershy. He has some powers from his father but they mainly remain limited to nature. He obtained his mother’s ability to speak to animals, but his favorites are sea creatures. He spends majority of his time swimming in rivers and creeks with little fishy friends, and keeps to himself for the most part. (Amber doesn’t like him very much as she deems his introversion as a waste of his ability to coexist with ponies as a mix breed/foreign species unbothered, unlike her who has to stay a secret)

Marigold Peaberry! The daughter of Rarity and Joe, she actually was really difficult to make a solid design for because I made her before picking her parents and then I had to redesign her to make her look related… it was a whole mess. She still doesn’t really have any personality or official role in the story.

Now we’re getting into old art territory… Startrix have 2 kids! Epitome Dusk and her brother Jinx Nightfall. Jinx is magically disabled and cannot use his horn without causing any accidents.This made his family incredibly heartbroken, but they all love him nonetheless. I imagine that these two hang out with Concord the most, since he’s the youngest of my next gen main characters.

Now time for Flurry! In my next gen AU, they are actually nonbinary and are dating Luster Dawn! I had a little bit of a poll/vote among my friends over if Luster should have been with Flutty or Comet and Flurry won! They don’t have a large role.

You might be wondering why that purple one at the end of the roster hasn’t appeared, and that’s because they aren’t canon. at least, I haven’t decided if they should be or not. Sunrise is a next gen for pinkiedash, but they’re merely a design concept for now. I’ll probably answer any questions people have about these guys if i have any answers. i doubt i’ll be getting any for a WHILE.