#idk what their canon height difference is just go with it

[lmaowh-at]

Correct height chart according to me

[eves4pple]

MUKAMI HOUSEHOLD HC’S

A/n: Long time no see!! Work and life got super crazy but I’ve been indulging in Diabolik Lovers again! Alongside that! For a few months I’ve been rewriting DL (more like my own au!!) just small tweaks and adding more realistic characterizations to characters I enjoy! So I decided to make a list of my headcanons for the Mukami household + Yui (she’s my beauty)

TW: slight mention and hint at abuse, mention of sexual abuse, mention of animal death

Take all of these at face value I’ve done my research to the best of my abilities and are basing this off of the things I’ve read, played, and watched! Plus my own little personal things!

- A quieter household. Each brother seems to have their own hobbies and tends to stick to themselves. This doesn’t mean they don’t enjoy each others company, they seem like the only group to like REALLY enjoy being around each other. Brother banter and all that nonsense.

- isn’t the safest but compared to the Sakamaki household Yui is in less danger. She actually spends more time pursuing schooling and smaller hobbies here without much backlash. Yuma and her garden often and Ruki helps her study. But of course this kinda stuff is paid back in blood so, you win some loose some

- Yuma will tease all 3 brothers for their height, I believe this may be canon? But it’s really Kou he has spats with over their heights. As an idol Kou is notoriously over dramatic and borderline narcissistic (and very full of himself) so he’s kinda pissy Yuma hangs his height over his head, but it’s all in good fun! (Usually)

-Yui and Ruki don’t really get along in the beginning. Which duh, but after a long period of time Yui began to get annoyed with being bossed around? I mean I would to, so he kinda grossed her out. Too much like an Ayato Reiji mix

- it’s mentioned either that in a CD or clip from more blood (the game) that Yui housed a kitten and was healing it back to health and Ruki killed it. This also kinda solidified their relationship into not being great. Yui believes very strongly in her morals and Ruki is one to oppose them. Meaning that in her eyes he’s cruel and in his she’s weak.

- Azusa is super interested in religions. Not like in them but he thinks the rules and regulations are kinda interesting to look into, he asks Yui a lot of questions about her faith and what it means to her.

- Yuma and Yui get along the best, the brothers were once human and I feel like don’t lack empathy to the extent pure bloods do. Course they will make comments that have Yui going “???” Because they are still entitled vampires

- The kinda group to have annoying ass orders at cafes. They don’t go out as a group much but when they get the chance they do. So when Yui joined she tagged along (of course they were like helicopter parents). Kou wants something sweet all the time so it’s either a milkshake/frappe nonsense, Ruki is the one who makes in super obvious he “just wants a black coffee. Black, no sugar or cream”, now Azusa’s order isn’t hard but he’s so quiet that it’s hard to catch it all so it’s usually made wrong on accident. Yuma sticks to the same thing but it’s a coffee with like 13 different steps that by the end it’s like a concoction of sugar, cream, flavoring, and coffee.

- Yui has an easy order, usually a tea. She avoids most coffee’s due to her sleep already being out of whack

- Yui has nightmares often due to the abuse she’s faced and she’s semi opened up to Azusa abt them in passing but tends to shut it down if pried.

- Ruki is stressed almost always. With the stress of being Adam kinda solely falling on his shoulders he doesn’t sleep often or even at all.

- this is supposedly canon but, Yuma likes bigger curvy girls in my mind :3

- Kou likes Kesha, Megan, and other female rap/pop artists. I also feel like Yui also dabbles with that kinda music but it isn’t her favorite

- Yuma’s the kinda brother that gives his brothers the faulty gaming controller :/

- Yuma and Kou smoke weed 100% idk I feel like they’d enjoy it, Ruki has a few times but usually just tells them off. Azusa has zero interest, Yui also has dabbled and she enjoyed it but getting high with like supernatural creatures can be… anxiety inducing?

- Ruki seems like one of those kids who’d have a super non trad kinda pet? Idk a snake or something. Not messy, loud, and chill

- Kou seems like the type to be sex repulsed often? He’s an idol and gets sexualized a lot in the limelight so bad correlation but even if he hates it he still does it to Yui

- Yui also is very sex repulsed

- yuma has a hard time coming to terms with his past with Shuu? It’s a weird grief thingy

- I feel like sometimes, only sometimes, they miss being human. I believe it’s semi mentioned already. But I feel like when Yui started living with them they started noticing that feeling more in an angry/sad way.

[iam-egg-hst]

Being fixated on a literal monkey and monster high at the same time is a fucking whiplash ____ This guy is canonically below 4 feet tall but everyone draws him like he's 6'2(Ignore that I also did), I'm only on chapter 12 or 13 of his story so idk if he just gets a height change or everyone just agrees that he'd make himself permanently taller with the whole transformation power he has. I couldn't decide on what color Sun Wukong's fur is supposed to be because whenever I look up ancient art of him or fanart it's always either ginger, yellow, brown, or even some rare cases white/gray, so I just kinda stuck with brown bc the 'Monkey King: Reborn' movie has him with brown fur and I've been watching it non-stop like a fucking idiot.

Then this second picture is where I got his outfit(fuck if I know what's going on with it but I love it) and for the life of me I couldn't draw the pointed shoes so I gave up. I found the image off of scarletexorcist.wordpress but it's in a different language and i don't trust google translate so I don't really know who made it. All I know is that the art is old as fuck ___________ Also PLEASE someone for the love of god draw 'Monkey King:Reborn' fanart there is NOTHING but a white haired Hatsune Miku(not joking) and someone's literal snapchat avatar(not joking either) kissing Sun Wukong AND I CAN'T TAKE IT! PLEA- 🍑🐒 _____

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

he's the tear that hangs inside my soul forever

pairing: javi p x reader

cws/tags: angst, p in v, oral, idk? drinking? canon death mention? reader pov

summary: reader, a dea agent, arrives in medellin (season 2 time) and quickly forms a bond w javi. are they just friends or is it something more?

a/n: there is a part 1, so read that first (or don't?)

wc: 5.7k

taglist:

@gothcsz @onlyasimp4-2dbitches

Being sent to Colombia at the height of Escobar's reign as the King of Cocaine was the opportunity of a lifetime for a fresh, young face at the DEA. A few years back, being asked to take part in such an important investigation meant you were quick-witted or quick-footed, but now, with more vacancies than ever, a newcomer like yourself was welcome to join the hunt for Pablo. You knew that the investigation was becoming more complex, and consequently, there were more jobs to be done, but what you remained unaware of – until you'd already accepted the assignment – was the bodies piling up on your side of the fight. Dozens of men had been killed, you learn. You are a piece of meat to feed to the dogs – disposable. But nothing about you screams front-line fighter, and that's what gives you hope.

This is what you were made for. You’re a DEA baby - Agent Mom and Agent Dad met at the height of their careers, and had a little too much fun celebrating after saving the day. Your career is the epilogue to theirs. “They lived happily ever after and their little girl one day followed in their footsteps.” Presumably, the little girl lives happily ever after too. Suffice to say, this crime-fighting business is in your genes. You suspect your legacy is what put you in this position until you get assigned to the biggest case in DEA history. Thank God for your intermediate knowledge of Spanish, courtesy of your college’s general education requirements because you’re sure going to need it in Colombia. 

Girls like you - even the nepo-babies - are often relegated to paperwork. It's better than being the office barista, but it's hard not to feel like a simple sidekick, just a background character when you'd been promised a lead role. That’s what it feels like at Quantico, going back and forth between the Xerox machine and the shredder. When you arrive in Bogota, it’s a different story. 

You work under a woman named Messina, who is far from friendly despite your attempts to get any positive affirmation from her. Unfortunately, your colleagues are primarily male and, therefore, you feel like she's the closest thing to an ally sometimes. Initially, you develop a certain allegiance to her, and while she remains cold and distant, she's not actively ornery towards you, and she has a great capacity to be. She's had a bone to pick with Javier Peña and Steve Murphy from day one. Messina has some choice words to say about both of them, but you try not to take them to heart before you come face-to-face with the two agents. She warns you about them like she's your mother in the way that she complains about their delinquency.

When you walk into the office on your first day, you prepare yourself for your introduction. You take a deep breath, hold your shoulders high like your mother told you to, and walk into the office where they sit - one at a desk and one on the desk - talking to each other. 

Don’t let them introduce themselves, do it for them, your mother’s voice comes to you. 

No blonde man has ever been named “Javier” so it’s not hard to guess who is who. 

“Agent Murphy,” you say to the man in the desk chair, “Agent Peña,” to the one seated on the desk itself.

Javier stands to shake your hand. Firm handshake, big hands. Don’t think too hard about it. Your brain slows, your heart speeds up. Your hand is probably clammy by the time you extend it to Steve. 

Javier. It rolls off the tongue when you touch yourself to the thought of him. Steve calls him ‘Javi’, but you stick to ‘Agent Peña’ because you’ve already made a link in your mind between his first name and sex itself. 

It must be something in the air because everything he does makes you feel all tingly. You try not to stare at him, fearing he’ll notice, and those pretty brown eyes will see straight through you.

Javi reminds you of a boy you liked in high school in the sense that you know your mother wouldn’t like him. He is terribly charming and the woman who raised you can see right through men like that. 

“How can you tell?” you’d ask. 

“I don’t need to ‘tell’. Those kinds of boys are all the same.”

“How so?”

“They’re trouble, and they know it.”

“But he’s so sweet-”

“-and he’s so handsome,” she’d mimic your sing-songy tone. “You’re a smart girl, and I know that you know better than to get involved with boys that’ll break your heart.”

She’d go on to tell you a story about how she had a lover back in her twenties before she met your father, how this mystery man was smooth-talking and adventurous, how he broke her heart, and she swore off dating until she found a sensible, loyal man.

Whenever she talked about that man - whose name she refused to say - she’d get a certain look in her eye like she was swooning over someone who was a mere memory. Honestly, he sounded like a total dreamboat, and you thought she was telling a deeply romantic story about the one who got away and disguising it as a cautionary tale to both you and herself. 

Until you dated that high school crush of yours and he shattered your heart. She was kind enough not to say ‘I told you so’ when you came home in tears after the tragic breakup. 

Javier doesn’t even try to hide his womanizer tendencies, which is good because it means you can’t delude yourself into believing he’s anything but a complete douchebag beneath it all. An asshole dressed in tight jeans and a short-sleeved button up. And those aviator sunglasses combined with the mustache that make him look like Burt Reynolds trying to be Tom Cruise. 

It’s hard to learn much about him unless you’re paying great attention, and you try not to because he’s bad news. You don’t know about his life or his interests. At first, you think you can discern his mood from his actions or expressions, but you come to find that he’s more subtle than that. You can tell how he feels, not by his face, but by how many cigarettes he smokes and how many buttons he undoes over the course of the day. 

You pay less attention to Steve because you don’t have to – he wears his heart on his sleeve and you don’t feel the need to gather any material for your nighttime fantasies.

You do, however, find their dynamic intriguing to say the least. You can't tell if they're best friends or mortal enemies because they argue frequently in the office and then hang out after work. Like a couple on the verge of divorce.

On a random Friday, you overhear your name come up in their conversation, which is new. You listen from afar, pretending to check the time, and zoning out with your eyes pointing towards the clock until Peña turns in your direction.

"Hey," he says in a voice that sounds oddly aggressive for the question he plans to ask you.

"Huh?" You spin around in your chair and face him.

"We're getting drinks. You wanna come?" His straight face gives you no indication of whether or not he wants you to say 'yes', but what reason is there for him to ask you other than genuine interest?

Somehow, he’s impatient, fingers tapping his thighs while he waits for your answer.

"Is 'drinks' code for something Messina should know about?"

"No, and if you bring her, you're uninvited."

"Don't worry. I'm not friends with her."

"That tracks. She's not very… friendly," Murphy mutters.

"So?" Peña looks like he's about to take back his offer if you don't give him a quick answer, so you agree to accompany the duo to a nearby bar. 

Murphy and Peña talk amongst themselves on the short walk to the bar, and you begin to wonder if they felt obligated to bring you. 

It’s your first time exploring the nightlife of Medellin but besides the language, it’s not all that different from a place you’d frequent back in the US. It’s lively, full of a variety of sleazy guys and sexy girls. Plus, you, Javi, Steve, and other everyday patrons. 

When you struggle to get the attention of the bartender, Javi snaps his fingers in the man's direction, asks you what you want and orders for you. Usually, you find men speaking for you to be a turn-off, if not downright rude, but it feels not only practical, but also caring when Javi does it.

It takes Steve a drink and a half to bring up his marriage problems. There's no prologue, and assuming it's a small grievance at first, you decide not to pry but eventually, this woman has taken up 25 minutes of conversation time, and you have to ask, "Who's Connie?"

Javier gives you the short version until Steve steps in and defends himself, giving you a much more long-winded explanation. 

While you listen, you notice Javi's arm around the back of your chair, and you can't quite discern why it's there. You've seen him with his feet up on his desk, and maybe he's just a believer in comfort over personal space, but, then again, maybe he's flirting, maybe he thinks he can score tonight.

When you decide to call it a night, you stumble your way out the door. It takes Javi a moment to notice, but when he does, he grabs hold of your arm, steadying you. He walks you home, and refuses to leave your side until you’ve successfully made it inside. Until you’re safe. 

Most of your memories of that night are blurry at best but you know your clothes remained on your body for the duration. You wake up in a puddle of your own sweat, with a splitting headache, and your first thought is regret - you shouldn’t have had that much to drink. Second comes anger - why did they let you drink that much? Assholes. You’ll make sure to say ‘no’ if they ever invite you out again. 

But then the image of Javi next to you, keeping you upright and unharmed, shielding you from the dangers of the Medellin streets at night. He could’ve let you go home by yourself or with some other man, he could’ve scolded you for your antics, but he kept a smile on his face and a grip on his gun instead. 

He didn’t even try to come into your apartment - you know this because there are no signs of him, and if he’d tried, you would’ve said ‘yes’. But you are sore in all the wrong places and very much alone. 

At that moment, you realize that Javi is a good man. Either that, or he's not into you. Whether he is or is not into you is mostly irrelevant because Javier is into every woman he’s ever laid eyes on. When he sneaks a glance at you - when he thinks you’re not looking - you shrug it off. You’ve seen him flirt with everyone in the office. It means nothing, he means nothing.

On a particular Thursday, Javi walks into the office with lipstick on the collar of his shirt. You nudge him in the leg with the toe of your shoe, and when he looks up at you with his gorgeous brown eyes, you gesture to the collar of your own shirt. He doesn’t get it. You have a brief back and forth conversation through hand motions and facial expressions until you realize that you must look ridiculous, and you stand up and walk over to him. You wet your thumb with your tongue and scrub another woman’s lipstick mark out of his shirt – or you try to, but a stain remains, albeit fainter than before. 

“You should be more careful next time,” you say, towering over Javi who sits with his hands politely clasped in his lap, waiting for you to finish toying with his outfit. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he says - it’s an attempt at sarcasm but he’s so used to getting told off for things of this nature that it sounds like he’s resigning himself to a necessary obedience. 

As you wash your hands moments later, you gaze at yourself in the mirror, pucker your lips, smile, scrape lipstick off your teeth, and convince yourself you smelled a woman’s perfume on him despite the fact that you were almost choking on the smoke from the cigarette between his lips. 

You wear lipstick on Friday, but it’s not for Javi. It’s for the lip of your beer bottle and later, the bartender’s neck. His name is Francisco, he smells like expensive cologne and his hands sit nicely on your hips as he walks you backwards to the desk in the office, lifting you and sitting you upon it. Your hands are in his hair and his tongue is in your mouth, and it feels good. You’d forgotten what it feels like to touch and be touched back. 

Until his hands travel up your thighs, and you wonder how long it’s been. Either it’s all gone way too fast for your liking or it’s been quite a long time and the bar is already closed, and in that case, Javi is either waiting for you outside or he isn’t. 

All it becomes is Javi, Javi, Javi. It’s a Catch 22, damned if you do, damned if you don’t situation except, you can’t do anything. There’s nothing to do. He’s either there or he isn’t. 

“I’m sorry.” You push the man away from you gently. “I think this is all going too fast.”

“It’s the one with the dark hair, isn’t it?”

“What?” Javi. Javi. Javi. Javi. 

“The one you’re always here with.”

“What about him?”

“You tell me.” 

He retreats from you, looks at his watch and says, “It’s late. You don’t want to keep him waiting.”

What hurts is not the fact that he can read you better than you can read yourself, but the fact that there is zero pride in his voice - it’s not a jab at you, so there is no brilliant comeback, there is also no pleading your case because he’s right. 

Javi is neither waiting for you, nor is he at home. You cross paths with him as you head to the restroom. The women’s restroom. You notice immediately that he has not taken your advice about being careful - there is lipstick on his collar again and a hickey on his neck. 

The first stab in the chest is the bruise, the second is his shameless display of it, and the third is the woman standing by the sink, reapplying her lipstick. She is beautiful. 

The fourth hit comes later, right before you leave, when you notice the bartender wiping his neck with a cocktail napkin, trying to rid the evidence of you from his skin. Shame. You are not beautiful, not like that woman, and if your lipstick was on Javi instead, he would hide it.

You tell him about your dalliance, brief as it was. You tell him the truth of how good it felt, but how you rejected the man despite thinking he was attractive. You just don’t tell him why. 

Instead, you lie, and tell Javi that Francisco asked you out, he wanted more of you, but you’re dedicated to the bachelorette lifestyle, you belong to no one. 

Except for Javier.

He is not yours, so he cannot be unfaithful, but he can’t be faithful either. Naturally, karma comes for you, and you find yourself calling him an asshole, and only half meaning it. When you say it, you’re surprised by the shame that crosses his face. You could let him walk upstairs without another word, but you apologize and he accepts it. Because that’s what friends do. 

There was nothing to fuck up in the first place, you tell yourself. He’s a friend. A good friend. 

Plus, there’s another man in your sights. He’s different from Javi, but he’s got pretty brown eyes that make you weak. You want him, and he wants you too. 

You’re sitting on your living room couch, sharing Javi’s last cigarette. Everyone smokes in Colombia in the year 1992, except for Carlos. You flick a bit of ash into the ashtray and hand it back to Javi. When he offers it back, you decline. 

“I’m thinking about quitting,” you say. 

“Why?”

“Carlos doesn’t smoke, and I keep thinking, ‘what if he kisses me and I have bad breath and he thinks I’m gross and never wants to see me again?’”

“Keep a pack of gum or breath mints in your purse.”

“I do.”

“Then, I don’t see the problem.”

Somehow, you’re arguing. Over nothing. Over your ridiculous worries about another man.

Javi gives you the once-over, though his eyes would suggest he’s looking at something closer to crime scene photos than a woman’s body. Investigating you. 

He grabs something from his pocket - a pack of gum and hands you it.

“Here.”

“Is this your way of telling me I do need to fix my breath?”

He rolls his eyes and then takes a stick for himself. It’s a familiar habit and yet you hesitate, you insist that he leads and you follow. Something about it feels like the first time.

“Come here,” he coaxes you towards him. Time moves slower. It’s the moment in the movie where you’re frozen in place, standing on the railroad tracks and the hero has to rescue you. 

He guides you - one hand coming to cup your cheek, and you know you should pull away but your self-indulgent tipsy mind begs you to let it happen. 

It’s just a kiss. Slow and sweet. Minty as expected, but that no longer matters because when his tongue swipes over your lower lip, and you allow him entry, instinctually, you move closer, place your hands on his chest, run your fingers through his hair. You think more of the way his mustache tickles and the scent of his aftershave.

You pull away light-headed, look into his eyes, and you make the decision together. No. It was good while it lasted, best not to ruin it. You give him a little smile, and he returns it. 

“Alright,” you say, standing up, “One more outfit choice and then you’re free.”

You saved the one you think he’ll like the best for last. A red dress, fit for the venue of your date. 

Javi’s eyes are locked on you, but he says nothing. He’s far away right now, deep in his own mind. 

“Javi?” You’ve made your walk from your bedroom to the living room in silence. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful - but I think you already know that.”

“Well, yeah, I like it, but I want a man’s opinion.”

“Now you have it.”

You don’t need ‘a man’s opinion’. You need Javi’s opinion - you need to know how to dress in your fantasies, you need to know what the women in his fantasies wear, even if those women aren’t you. 

Carlos is a good man. He can hold an intelligent conversation, he’s never too loud or too crass, he insists on picking up the check, he always drives you home, and he goes down on you without asking for anything in return.  

Javi can’t go two sentences without swearing, he hustles you at pool and you have to pick up his tab, and he bums cigarettes off you when he leaves his own pack in his jacket in the other room. 

And he curses out every creep who comes near you, he teaches you how to play pool - darts too - (and you try to learn poker but it’s too goddamn hard). You start ordering top shelf alcohol and putting it on those creeps’ credit cards when they lose to you in every bar game. When he walks you home, he lets you wear his jacket. When you ‘borrow’ his lighter, he doesn’t ask for it back. 

Carlos breaks up with you out of the blue. “It’s not you, it’s me,” he says. Or something like that because you’re not really paying attention anymore. You’re using all of your energy to stop yourself from crying in public. Why did he have to do this in public? It’s a parking lot, not a stage in a giant amphitheater, but it feels like you’re putting on a spectacle. 

It feels worse when he drives you home and apologizes. 

You say nothing, run inside and dial Javi’s number - you know it by heart. 

“Call me if you need anything,” he said. 

You need something. Someone. 

“Javi,” you cry into the receiver pathetically, “he broke up with me.”

“I’ll come get you.”

You hear his footsteps - hurried - down the metal stairs of the apartment complex, and then his fist on the front door. 

He holds open his arms. “It’ll be okay, cariño,” he says.

And eventually, when you sleep with your body wrapped in his, it is okay.  

When Carrillo comes back to the DEA, he brings a new strategy, a crueler one. You weren't stupid enough to expect your job to be full of peaceful negotiation but when you watch him shoot a teenager in cold blood, one bullet straight to the head, in front of a group of kids as some sort of lesson, you feel light-headed and sick to your stomach. Javi is the only other person watching, and even he looks shaken. You want to talk to him, you want some sort of comfort from him, but you see him fight with Steve before he gets in his car, and even if you could reach him before he drives away, you're not sure speaking to him will do anything except upset you more.

Steve offers to talk to you about it, but you decline. Even if you wanted to talk about it, he could never understand. You don't have the words to say what happened. You'd have to remember it, and all you want to do is forget. There's also a little girl named Olivia who holds you back from telling him anything. Maybe Connie was right to leave Colombia.

You make the stupid decision to ask Steve where Javi is, as if he has a GPS tracker attached to his partner in crime-fighting.

"Probably at some girl's house." He shrugs. "Why?"

"Just wondering."

But it's more than that. The night he walked you home he became one of the few people at the DEA that you decided you could trust. And now, you shared an unbreakable, unspeakable bond simply from witnessing an act of cruelty. He is the only person who understands but he has his own ways of dealing with these things it seems. Those ways don't involve you. He doesn't need you the way you need him.

You pace around your room for a while until you get antsy, feeling claustrophobic within your tiny living space.

You happen to pass Javier as he walks into the building, and you know that Steve was right. He looks disheveled in an unmistakable way. Something about it makes you feel worse than you already did. Even though there's no reason for you to care.

Carrillo is to blame for pushing those kids from the helicopter, but you're to blame for going with him. Murphy, who calls his wife in tears after the fact, wasn't aware of how bad it could be, seeing these things, but you were.

You want to run to Javi as if he's some sort of parental figure or security blanket. He wasn't there this time, so he doesn't know. And the caring part of you wants to keep it from him.

You do what agents like you do to cope - drink - except on your way out of the building you find Javi with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. You turn your head, not wanting him to see you in tears, but he does. He can be perceptive when he wants to be.

Your conversation is short, and Javi’s tone is stern, and his arm wraps firmly around your shoulder as he guides you back inside. 

He offers to help you, and though you feel pathetic, you ask him to stay with you. No, you tell him “I want to forget”. 

His lips are on yours and he’s kissing you, kissing you. It’s heated, much more so than the last time. You leave your jacket on the floor, not on the coat rack, along with your shoes and your shirt. You bear more of yourself to Javi with every step down the hallway, and you wish he would do the same. He moves slower and you worry about how much he wants this. Not like you do. 

This is his routine. Every movement is well-practiced, when he asks you to go to the bedroom, you let yourself believe it’s because he wants to be gentle with you, you let yourself believe that it’s more than sex when he drops to his knees. You’re fully naked and all he has left is his underwear which doesn’t leave much to the imagination. He’s hard. Thank God, he wants you. 

You can’t look him in the eyes when he fucks you - it would no longer be fucking. You’d say something that you regret, tell him how you’ve been dreaming of this since the day you saw him, tell him this means something to you. 

He does as he’s asked - he makes you forget. You doubt you’ve been fucked this hard. You can’t even consider the fact that you want to see his face when he cums, the fact that you want him to kiss you, cum inside you, say he loves you, because he’s fucking every thought out of your brain. You can’t even tell him how good it feels. And it feels fucking amazing. You expected it to, based on how much practice you know he’s had, but no man has ever made you scream before. 

You think you hear him moan your name when he cums, but you decide not to get your hopes up. You probably just imagined it. You can’t rid your mind of the thought regardless. 

When you hear an angry knock on your front door, you’re not surprised. Thank God Javi offers to get it since you know you’ll fall over if you try to walk with your shaky legs. 

It’s probably Steve, you think, but Javi says it’s ‘a neighbor’ and leaves it at that, and you can’t bring yourself to care which one. 

You want to kiss him, you want another round. You want to let him go, you want to fall asleep alone. But you’re weak, so you ask him to stay, and he doesn’t argue. You sleep with your limbs entangled. Javi is warm and real, no longer a coworker, a friend, a crush, a fantasy, just a man. Made of sweat, scars, a freckle on his neck, messy hair, tense shoulders and a steady heartbeat. 

You kiss him, lazy and hungry all at once. He pulls you closer and groans into your mouth. You leave a mark on his neck.

“Wanna give you something to remember this by,” you say, coy out of necessity. 

“I wasn’t the one who said I wanted to forget.”

The final betrayal, the failure of the mission, the dropping of the facade is when you expose your neck to him, an invitation, and it takes you a half an hour to cover the bruise in makeup. It takes a week to fade.

Carrillo is dead. That’s a fact. Javi is drunk in his office. A fact. It is what it is, your father would say. What’s done is done. Focus on the facts. Don’t let yourself get distracted by your feelings. Feelings aren’t facts.  

In the field, you’ll get yourself killed doing that. It was a comment over a celebratory dinner after you’d been assigned to the Escobar case. Flippant, with a mouthful of shrimp scampi. 

You weren’t the one who was killed. Javi wasn’t either, but he’s not here in the room with you. Javi is gone, a shell of himself. What scares you most is that he asked Messina to let him go, to let him die in that explosion or by gunshot. 

“I don’t do funerals.”

I need you, you want to say because, as much as you hate goodbyes, it would feel disrespectful to miss the funeral. 

So, you iron your black dress, try to sleep and fail miserably, and stand in silence as you watch your colleague be buried. It could have just as easily been you. 

You want to leave, go home and accept the fact that you failed, that you’re broken. But there is still something to fight for, and you are still a soldier. 

If someone had asked you if you would take a bullet for Javi, you would’ve said a confident ‘yes’ because that’s what you’re supposed to say. It’s the altruistic answer, but truthfully, until you were faced with that bullet, you couldn’t be sure what you’d do. 

There is no decision. It just happens. You push him out of the way and pray that it hits your tac vest and your brains don’t get blown out in a fucking market square in a failed operation, on a shitty lead. 

The bullet hits you, and at first you feel very little, so little that you think you’re about to pass out - you’re losing blood. Then, as Javi grabs you, pulls you into the nearest building, the pain hits all at once. 

The woman, the owner, grabs a first aid kit and Javi does his best to patch you up. 

“Gonna call reinforcements?”

“No, it’s too late. They got away. An ambulance is coming for you.”

“No ambulance. I’m fine.”

“You just got shot.”

“I know. It hurts.”

The ambulance ride is bumpy and your mind is foggy. Once the painkillers hit, you feel okay. Groggy, but okay, especially when you look to see Javi by your side. 

The morphine is a secret weapon, a scapegoat. 

“Kiss me for real,” you say. 

Later you’ll laugh it off, blame it on the painkillers but it’s a fully-lucid thought, and because he can blame it on pity or guilt, he does as you ask. 

You doubt he’ll accept your proposition for more but you take your shot regardless. There’s a flicker in his eyes: desire. He declines, and it’s probably for the best.

By morning, you've already made the decision to go home. It's time. You kiss Javi one final time before boarding the plane. You leave and don't look back.

Javi stays with you as a memory, as a scar from the bullet you took for him. He stays with you like a dirty little secret and an occasional phone call.

But distance spoils whatever there was to spoil, and your conversations fade into nothing. You find yourself spending time with other men, dipping your toes back into the dating pool. Javi probably has another woman or three at his beckon call in Colombia anyway.

You brush all thoughts of Javi aside, even when his face is plastered on your TV and his name is in headlines, even when he's the newest hero of the DEA.

The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, you'd been told before. Your someone else is named 'Eric'.

Eric is a good man. Your parents and friends think so too. You know it’s true when your dad invites him to play a round of golf and your mom starts to tell him ‘he’s family’ when he comes over for dinner. 

He brings flowers. Lilies for your first date, roses for Valentine's Day, tulips for your mother because once she mentioned off-handedly that they’re her favorite.

The only downside is living almost 45 minutes apart. 

“Babe,” he says one Saturday while you linger by the door, not wanting to leave, “what do you think about getting a place together?”

Eric is rarely adventurous. He thinks everything through, he’s reliable, he’s sensible. He means it. 

“I’d love to,” you say, leaning in for your umpteenth goodbye kiss, “but I think you already know that.”

“What if I told you that I found an apartment downtown that I think you’ll really like?”

“I’d tell you that we better snatch it up before someone else does.”

The apartment is perfect. It’s got two beds and two baths, a balcony that overlooks the city, a kitchen you’ll cook together in, a living room you’ll read together in, a bedroom you’ll sleep together in. 

Seeing Javi at the airport feels like a prank, like a test, like an augury. What it is, undeniably, is a chance. That’s a fact. 

There’s no reason not to call him. Yes, there is. So, you call him, invite him to the party because you want to see his face again - not the one in the newspapers, not the hero, but the man. Javier, older, sprouting gray hairs and wrinkles on his forehead. 

On your balcony, you realize his gaze is fixated on your arm. 

The scar. The bullet. 

“Oh, yeah,” you half-laugh, though it’s not funny, “I’ve got a little reminder of you.”

“I’m sorry… about that.”

“Well, don’t be.” You step closer, put your hand on his upper arm. “I’m sorry I left. I would’ve loved to be a hero with you.”

“I’m far from a hero.”

“That’s not true.”

“I didn’t kill Escobar, there’s still sicarios out there, the drug war’s not over.”

“Yeah, but you’re my hero.”

He rolls his eyes.

There is nothing he can say. The ring on your finger is a wall you’ve built between the two of you. 

“It’s beautiful. It suits you,” he says. 

You take it off to play one final trick, one last self-indulgent lie. You let him hold it. He pretends to care what it looks like, and when he gives it back, he slides it on your finger. 

Somehow, it feels right. 

[princessdimondheart]

The Twins | Ghost x Wife! Reader

Pairing: Ghost x f! Reader + Their Twins

Warnings: 🔪- violence, terrorist act, blood, inaccurate medical scenes; 😭- fear, emotional stuff, family; 🥺- well deserved happiness

Edited: No

A/N: Simon’s mother doesn’t have a canon name so I decided it’s based off of a flower. You pick which one. Almost 8k words 😳. Part 2? Idk. Sorry it took so long! 😭😭

Masterlist

Character banner ©️ Me

Tommy brushed his short hair back like it would do anything. It was a standard military cut, close shaven but not exactly bald. When he had it cut- to get used to it he told himself- his twin sister, Violet, laughed in his face. Said he looked like an escaped inmate with the cut or someone from pre-Y2K. He pouted remembering it, he had yelled something about her blue-dyed hair being basic and threw a dirty sock in her face. She yelled and then grabbed his arm and proceeded to throw him over her shoulder. He really should have seen it coming. Her hard work in Tai Kwon Do really paid off. His back and ass hurt for the next few days. 

Unfortunately, his poor mother paid witness to the little altercation. She was tired from a long shift at the hospital and was laying on their gray couch munching on Doritos. She only shook her head when he whined to her about Violet. She told him that if he wanted to join the army like he dreamed about, then he would have to toughen up and not complain about things whenever they went wrong. A distant look shown in her eyes. An old memory most likely; one of their long gone father, a military man, and one of the reasons why Tommy wanted to join. To follow in his father’s footsteps despite his job being the reason he wasn’t in their life anymore. He and his twin got quiet and then went their separate ways. They knew how much the loss of their father hurt their mother and they didn’t want to bring her any more pain by mentioning him when she’s emotionally drained from her shift. 

When Tommy had told her that he wanted to join the army, his mother froze in shock before tears spilled from her eyes. A hand covered her sobs and her brow furrowed. He had never seen his mother cry before and it nearly had him spiraling. He rushed to hug his mother asking her what was wrong. When she calmed down, she pulled back and held his cheek in her hand. 

“You’re just like your father. I knew something like this was going to happen but I wasn’t sure it would be so soon.” She wiped her tears with her other hand. “It’s okay, you can go if you really want to.”

He didn’t realize the tears building up in his eyes until they were running down his face. He was only 15 but he was already a head taller than his mother. She said he got his height from his father. Tommy had to tell her his decision because her permission was what would get him into the army when he turned 16. He had no other dreams, just the army and making his parents proud. 

“Tommy! Are you done checking yourself out? We need to go to this last store before heading home.” Violet’s voice crashed his preening in front of a mirror in an H&M store. “The sun’s already set and we’re running late as it is.”

“Chill, Vi, we don’t always have to be punctual. Mom’s on shift anyways, we can go home at whatever time we want!” He looked at her through the mirror. 

She rolled her eyes at him, scoffing, “says the boy that wants to join the army where punctuality is very important.” 

Violet’s eye color was from her mother, in fact, all of her looks were from her, even her height except her eye shape was from their dad. Tommy was the one who was almost a carbon copy of their dad. There were slight variations in their looks, like skin tone and hair texture but nothing too different. He liked the fact that he looked like his dad. It made him feel closer to him in a way. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, let’s go so you can shut your whining. I am in the army.” Tommy mumbled the last part under his breath. He shoved a hand in his pocket and pushed the other in front of her face, wiggling his fingers for the bags she was holding. She handed them over when he moved his hand closer to her face and she swatted it away. Sure, he messed around with his sister but he was still a gentleman. His mother would fry his ass if he was anything but. 

They were heading to Piccadilly Circus to look at the stores in search of a birthday present for their mom. It was coming up soon and they were running behind in the gift department. All other aspects of the little party they were planning were already put together, the only thing left was her gift. Now that he was in the army for just over a year, he had some money saved up and was planning on using it for her gift. That was the reason why he was here, he was on leave for her birthday next week. Violet suggested a nice pair of earrings and a necklace for her since she doesn’t really own jewelry other than her wedding bands. Tommy readily agreed. 

The walk from H&M to the square wasn’t longer than ten minutes but they took their time window shopping along the way. The square was decently crowded, it was a Thursday after all and there were plenty of tourists and locals scurrying in and out of the shops. Tommy rubbed his hands together, it was cold that night. Unusual for the time of year but he assumed global warming was to blame. He really wished spring would finish up so summer could get here. 

~~~~~

Ghost was methodically sharpening his knife on a whetstone when Price knocked on his door with a loud bang. His masked head whipped up and he gripped the knife tighter. 

“Load up, Simon. My office, yesterday!” His voice was hurried and gruff. Something was going down and that made Ghost kit up faster than normal. Grabbing his gun he was out of his room in less than a minute. 

In Prices office was the rest of 141, Gaz and Soap were kitted up in their tactical vests with their weapons slung over their shoulders. No one was sitting. 

“We just got word that a terrorist plot is going to go down tonight at Piccadilly Circus. We’re going to head over there before it goes down.” Price shook his head. “Hopefully our presence deters them or we’re able to put a stop to them before anyone gets hurt.”

Gaz was reasonably upset. He had been there for the first attack on the square a few years ago. It was actually how he got into Price’s sights in the first place and joined the Task Force. “Again? Seriously?”

The Captain gave him a knowing look. “If it’s going to be an issue, you can stay here Kyle. You don’t have to go.”

“No-no, sir. It won’t be an issue.” Gaz sighed. “I just hope it turns out better than last time.”

Soap patted him on the shoulder. Price nodded at him and then walked to his office door. 

“Let’s go!”

~~~~~

Violet had tugged on Tommy’s jacket and pointed out a jewelry store that seemed promising. Luckily it was still open so they both went inside. The clerk greeted them but wasn’t as attentive to them because of their youth. That is until they told her their budget. Typical. 

She was looking into the bright glass boxes filled with different types of jewelry in gold, silver, diamonds or other precious stones. Tommy wasn’t really paying attention to her. He fiddled with his dog tags and the busted up ones that belonged to his father. They rested over his jacket. He’d hum and glance at a necklace she was pointing to but he was rather distracted. There was a small commotion just across the street near the metro entrance. 

A black van pulled up and several men jumped out of it seemingly inconspicuous. He thought nothing of it until he saw a handgun sticking out of his waistband. Now, Tommy didn’t do that great in the section about their laws in school but he sure as hell knew that guns were illegal in their country. His brows furrowed, and Violet tugged at his sleeve once more to get his attention. 

“Tommy! What’s with you?” She voiced her annoyance. “What are you looking at?”

She peered around him but didn’t notice what he was staring at so intensely. Tommy noticed that one of the men planted something on a nearby car parked on the street. He felt something go through his body. It was a feeling of cold and dread. Dread of what was most likely going to happen. What it was he didn’t have a clue. He just felt the cold chill his blood and goosebumps ran down his arms. 

His eyes widened in shock and fear when one of the men pulled out an assault rifle from the truck. He only had a few seconds. 

“Get down!” Was all he could manage to get out. 

Tommy turned and grabbed his twin by her arms, pulling her into his body. The shots rang out directly towards them and in various directions. He vaguely remembered hearing a loud boom ring out. Screams spread around them. Tommy could only feel the burning sensations coming from his right arm, lower back and left leg. Violet’s screams were muffled by his jacket, the dog tags dug into her face. Her head had hit the ground hard despite Tommy covering it with his hand, and it throbbed in that dull way. Glass shattered around them and alarms were going off. They dropped heavily to the ground. Tommy’s body was covering Violet’s protecting her from the blaze of bullets still lodging themselves in the walls around them. 

Violet screamed again as one land near their heads. Tears ran down both their faces. He tightened his grip on her. 

“Violet- Violet, please.” He grunted. “It’s okay, we-we’re gonna be fine. Just lay down. S-stay quiet, yeah, you’re good, Vi.”

She was shaking. He was shaking. Although his body was prepared for going to war, his mind had yet to catch up. Although, Tommy wasn’t sure if it was nerves that was causing him to shake, the cold chill spilling through the shattered store front, or the blood seeping out from his wounds. 

Violet felt wet but she couldn’t figure out what it was. At first she thought she had wet herself in fear but the feeling was coming from her torso. She turned her head as best as she could and saw Tommy grimacing in pain. Her eyes looked further down and saw the blood pooling under her. She wasn’t in pain. 

“Tommy! Ta-Tommy, you’re bleedin’!” Her voice pitched high with alarm. She sobbed into his shoulder. Her hands tucked into her body pulled out and wrapped around his back. She held him tight. 

“I-I’m fine, Vi.” He stuttered out. He was feeling weak from the blood loss. 

“Don’t l-lie to me Tommy.” She hiccuped. “You’re s-shit at it.”

More explosions rang beyond the store. They shook the building they were in. Pieces of debris were falling from the ceiling, landing on and around them. Suddenly, various gunshots were fired in rapid succession and Violet worried that more terrorists had arrived. She hoped that the police or some anti-terrorist agency would arrive soon. Several minutes pass and the gunfire lessened until it finally stopped. 

“Tommy? We can get up now, l-let me put pressure on y-your wounds.” Tommy wasn’t saying anything and that worried Violet. Her breathing quickened in her panic. “Tommy!? Get up! Tommy!”

Her hand reached up to push him off of her. It was a struggle as he had gained a significant amount of weight in muscle over the last year. He weighed a ton and when she was finally able to push him off of her, Violet was huffing even with her martial arts skills. Other times she’s able to pull him over her shoulder with momentum but now he was dead weight. God she dreaded the thought. Her shaking hands scrambled to his neck. Two fingers felt for his pulse and found a faint one. It fluttered but it was still there. She sighed in relief. 

Violet tried to remember the first aid course that she took last summer that their mom’s hospital was offering to students interested in joining the medical field. She surveyed his unconscious body to find any wounds and when she found them all she got to work as best as she could. Violet took off her jacket and wrapped it around Tommy’s arm hoping to slow down the bleeding. Then she remembered that he had on a belt and so she took it off to tie around his leg. He unconsciously groaned when she tightened it. She couldn’t really put pressure on the wound on his back but she tried her best to keep a hand covering the wound. The bullet hadn’t gone all the way through and stayed lodged inside him. It wasn’t sanitary but it was the best she could do. 

Her body continued to shake and she looked around the destroyed jewelry store. There were other bodies lying around. Blood was smeared on the shattered glass display where the lady was standing minutes before. The lack of pained noises sent a pang through her chest. More tears rolled down her cheeks and onto Tommy’s shuddering chest below her. She wished she hadn’t insisted on stopping by the other store instead of going straight here. They would have been home earlier. She wished she were the one injured and not Tommy. She was the oldest by a few minutes and it was her job to protect her little twin brother. She wished her mom was there to help Tommy. She wished her dad was there to help them get through this. 

She cried and cried. Pain and sadness filling her up and boiling over in body racking sobs. Her hand gripped one of Tommy’s. 

The silence was almost unbearable, until it wasn’t. 

~~~~~

They were too late, again. The intel that they had been receiving lately was always a little too late than normal. Ghost knew that Price was gonna have a word with all the intelligence personnel when they were done with the mess that was before them. Gaz was pissed as his expression showed. They’d all seen similar scenes like this before but it always hurt more when it happens on home soil. 

The police had arrived but were not as prepared as the Task Force, so they set up a perimeter not letting anyone in or out. They had dispatched all of the terrorists within a few minutes of them being in Piccadilly Circus. A few had lingered in the square while others had gone into some of the shops. Once the area was cleared and the police had began searching for survivors, Price had them doing the same. 

“Soap, Gaz, go together and look for anyone still breathing on the north side. Ghost and I’ll stay on the south side of the square.” They split up and began their search. 

Ghost passed a few bodies that weren’t alive. He saw the Captain flinch at the body of a child but he never said anything. Children were always hard in their line of work but for him it hit closer to home than what Ghost could ever understand. 

“Hello? Is anyone alive?! We’re the army!” Price began to call out in hopes of an answer back. 

There was silence yet it was loud. Sirens, alarms, and broken glass crunched underfoot and around them. They saw that the police and EMTs had found a majority of the survivors near them so they pushed further into the square. Price called out again and a muffled cry called back. 

“Help! Help me please!” The feminine voice cried to them. Her voice pulled them towards her like a lifeline. 

They ran to where the voice came from, a rather famous jewelry store that didn’t look as nice as before. The broken glass and bullet holes would turn anyone away. Ghost made it to the entryway first but Price stopped him with his hand. He gave him a look and went in first. Then Ghost remembered his skull mask and the fear it brought to people, especially civilians, so he waited until he was needed. The familiar crackle of the radio was heard faintly. 

“Shite, get in here Ghost! They’re kids!” Great, another demographic that he wasn’t really good with. When he stood by them he realized that these kids were older than what he thought. They were teenagers. 

Then, he froze. 

Years of memories rushed through his mind in seconds. The sound of laughter… a certain hair color… the smell of her favorite perfume… her flowers, whose scent would waft up his nose whenever he came home. Things he so painfully remembered and yet chose to let go so as to not cause tremendous harm. A feeling that he had longed to never let go. He grasped at the tendrils for a short while before that dreadful night. 

Those eyes… they were her eyes. At first he thought that she was kneeling there before him, but then remembered that more than a decade had passed and she would have changed in that time. Rarely had he seen her with tears streaked down her face. Or blood on her clothes…

Her look-alike cried out a sob and reality overtook his memories. 

“Please, please help my brother he got shot.” The girl pleaded looking up as he walked closer. She wasn’t scared of him in the mask but she was for her brother. That’s when Ghost looked down. 

Was he staring in a mirror? This boy. This kid. It was like looking at a photo of his younger self. 

Clink.

Ghost’s eyes snapped to the sound of metal in Prices hand. He’d already done a glance over of the boy and decided that the girl did a good job of wrapping his wounds with what she had. 

“Are these his?” Price asked the distraught girl. 

“Y-yeah. Tommy just joined the army not long ago. Barely over a year in.” She breathed in deeply as if to calm her mind. 

Tommy… he knew a Tommy once. His own brother. Every piece was coming together. He was one, and they were the other two. Just one was left…

“…and the other?” Price continued. He didn’t need to ask but he wanted to confirm the information he held. The cheeky bastard. 

“It’s our fathers… or what’s left of him.” Those same eyes as her looked down. Sadness filled them. Sadness for himself, he realized. A father long gone. Those were the tags that he left behind in the wreckage. Now here they were… somehow returned to him. 

Ghost hardly remembered when the ambulance pulled up in front of the store. Or when the EMTs moved Tommy onto the stretcher. But he did remember the smell of his blood and the salt in the air from her tears. 

Price was able to convince the EMTs to let them go with Tommy and his sister. They weren’t happy about it but decided that armed men tagging along with them after a terrorist attack wouldn’t be so bad. He’d also radioed Soap and Gaz of their departure. They had found some victims buried under rubble and were trying to get them out with some firefighters. 

Price whispered low enough for only Ghost to hear. “You doin’ okay, Simon?”

He didn’t know what to say. What could he say? His new-found daughter was siting across from him while his son lay injured, bleeding out from wounds caused by a terror act not thwarted by his team. He felt useless. Yet, he felt grateful that he was able to meet his children in a way. The situation was horrible, but that brought them together; and it was highly likely that if it had not happened then he would have never learned about them. He’d have probably died in combat before he ever heard whispers of them. No, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He would continue on the path placed in front of him, for now at least. 

He just shrugged his shoulders and stayed silent. That must have been enough for Price as he just eyed him for a bit before looking down at what the EMTs were doing to stabilize Tommy. 

“Oh!” Price jolted in realization. “We never got your name, love! So sorry.” 

The girl looked up at them. She glanced at him then at John. Ghost must have looked strange sitting there in his black gear. They both definitely looked out of place in the ambulance. 

“It’s fine. I’m Violet… Mister…?” She wasn’t stuttering anymore but her voice was subdued and scratchy from her crying. 

“Call me John, young lady.” He nodded at her. “And this is Ghos-“

“Simon, will do.” He had no idea why he cut him off or why he gave her his name, but it brought a grin to Prices lips. 

“Oh, it’s like my da-“ The ambulance coming to a stop cut her off and the EMTs began off-loading the gurney. 

They moved themselves out of the way and followed closely behind as he was rolled into the emergency department. There were other ambulances dropping off patients from the attack. EMTs, doctors and nurses were coming in and out, and there was a heavy police presence at the entrances. 

Inside was more chaotic. The hospital was in Code Orange for mass casualty or disasters. 

Patients lay in gurneys as nurses and residents tended to them. Many of the dead rested under blood soaked sheets, yet to be moved to the morgue. Blood pooled on the white floors, some of it was stepped on and tracked throughout the rooms. Cleaning workers did their best to mop up the evidence of the nights tragedy. Very few had minor injuries. Friends and family were there searching for missing relatives. One of the smarter police officers began a missing persons board and had them write descriptions of the missing. 

As Violet stepped through the automatic door, she saw her mom finish tending to an older lady who had been grazed by bullets and suffered a concussion when she fell over. She fiddled with her gloves. It was loud in there but when she called for her mother, the older woman’s head shot up in fear. 

“Mom!”

Hearing this, Ghost’s eyes scanned the crowd. He had to find her. A face he hadn’t seen in years, unless he counted the similarities with his daughter. It wasn’t so hard. He’d recognize her face if he was blind and only had his hands to see. 

She was older, of course, but no less as beautiful as he remembered. Her hair was styled differently, likely due to her job, but still shined healthily. Her scrubs were in her favorite color and a blood stained white lab coat donned her body. She wore blue gloves and a face mask as she tended to her patients. 

“Violet!” She speedily walked to her daughter, passing between other doctors and nurses. Fingers tugged on latex and she dumped the gloves in a garbage can filling up with similar bloody items. Her hands rested on Violet’s shoulders as she couldn’t hug her with all the blood on her. 

She gasped when she saw Tommy. 

“Tommy!” She cried and tears flooded her eyes. Her hands went to his cut up face. “You were there?!”

An EMT asked her to help them. “This patient needs immediate care, doctor!”

“I-I’m sorry. I’m too close to the patient.” She stuttered. 

She looked around her in the chaos for a free doctor. She hardly noticed the two armed men hanging back. Her eyes stopped on her colleague. He had worked as a doctor for over forty years and had done thousands of surgeries. He had been a great mentor to her since she first started working at this hospital. 

“Jack! Dr. Yates!” She called over to him loud enough for others to look over. The older gentleman startled but made a bee-line for her. When he was close, she grabbed a part of his white sleeve. “Please, doctor, help my son. I’m too close to work on him properly.”

The grayed man gave a look over Tommy and had them immediately push him to an open operating room. He grasped her upper arm. “Don’t you worry your brilliant mind, sunny. We’ll get him spick and span in no time. Take a break for a few minutes, you’ve been running around since 5 this mornin’.”

Letting go, she only nodded along as they wheeled Tommy away. She allowed a tear to fall. It dripped onto the floor, mixing with other bodily fluids that fell from their patients. She tried not to let her fear of her losing another person get to her. 

Not again. Not here. Not now. 

“Mom?” Violet called for her worried about her sudden silence. She tugged on the back of her white coat, which was still white, surprisingly. That got her moving. 

“Violet? Are you alright? You’re okay, right? There’s blood all over you!” She inhaled once. “Do I need to get you som-“

“Mom! I’m fine! Honestly!” Violet interrupted, her bottom lip wobbled. “T-Tommy protected me. He saved me, mom!”

She sobbed harder than before and her mom, now not caring for the blood, pulled her in for a tight hug. They clung to each other desperately. Violet was shorter than her mom so she was able to burry her face into her neck. Tears wetting her skin and clothes. 

Movement behind them, made her look up, unsure if anyone else needed help. It was the two men that had come in with Violet. She had not really noticed them before because all her focus was directed to Tommy and Violet; her two most important things in life. Both had some blood on, what she now realized was military kits, and they stood there in silence carrying their weapons slung over their shoulders. One wore a funny fishing hat and the other had a rather fitting face mask for the overall mood of the day. The skull plated mask hid the face underneath. Her eyes lingered and he caught her gaze. 

Ghost stared at his once-wife in the eyes. The eyes that would always making him feel like he was falling deeper into her soul. She spoke but his ears weren’t working. Price answered and his hand whacking his arm made him blink twice and their staring ended when she looked at Prices hand. 

“No, we’re fine… Doctor…?” Price answered her worries of injury. 

“I’m Doctor-“

“Dr. Riley!” A nurse interrupted her. Ghost felt his chest tighten. She’d kept his name. “We need you here! He’s code blue-ing!”

She sprang from her daughters arms. “Coming! Violet go to my office and stay there for me, please. I’ll be back soon, hopefully.”

Violet nodded before her mom ran off to where the patient had just rolled in. She jumped onto the gurney and began chest compressions. The EMTs continued to the elevator and up to the operating rooms like nothing had happened. More nurses followed them into the large elevator. Her mom pumping that mans chest was the last she’d see of her for the next few hours. 

She was still a Riley. His Riley. After all these years, he remembered her saying that she wanted to keep her maiden name for her doctor status. He was always okay with that and knew she’d never change her mind, despite her taking his name, although hyphenated, when they married. He wondered what made her change her mind. Then he remembered that he had ‘died’ several months before her graduation as a resident. He reminisced on how he snuck in to see her one last time at the ceremony before running away to the battlefield. 

Price eyed Ghost as he stood there staring at the closed elevator doors, even when they opened as another body was taken down to the morgue. He looked tense, brows furrowed, pained, and understandably so. His whole life just flipped over and over in the matter of a few hours. 

But then Ghost glanced at his hands. Bloodied hands. Tommy’s blood. Then to Violet and then back again to the dried blood. The blood of his only son. It dawned on him that he almost lost him. Almost her. Both of them could have been stripped of their lives. And so easily too. He hardly knew them and that hurt him even more. 

“Ah… let’s escort you to your mums office, yeah?” Price called to Violet, who was also spacing out. 

She wiped her face and nodded. She led them to the stairwell and they climbed up two stories. Several corridors down and they were in a decent sized office. Price told them he would get them some snacks and drinks at the vending machines he saw awhile back. Ghost knew he was giving him time to talk to Violet. He was somewhat grateful and annoyed that Price knew what he needed. 

They both sat down on the cushioned chairs. Violet flung herself down with a loud sigh. She was drained both mentally, physically and emotionally. She wanted this nightmare to be over. 

“You’re Violet, right?” His deep voice asked and Violet’s eyes drifted upward. He’d heard her name multiple times, was even introduced, but he needed the confirmation again. 

“Yeah, I’m Violet… why?” She looked a bit confused, brow raised just like her mother used to give him. 

His chest tightened and he felt like he couldn’t get the words past his lips but he forced himself to. There was no better time than right now. “I- I just know your mum… that’s all.”

“Really? Why didn’t she recognize you?” She asked but Ghost pointed at his masked face and she blushed. “Oh, right.” 

The silence was awkward for a moment before Violet spoke, surprising Ghost with her words. 

“Well… I like your mask. Kinda edgy. It’s actually pretty cool… for an old man.”

“How do you know I’m old?” Ghost tilted his head slightly. 

Violet scoffed and crossed her arms, leaning back into the chair. “You know my mom, so you’ve gotta be old.” Ghost almost rolled his eyes; she was gonna be the death of him. Then she looked contemplative. 

“Do you think Tommy will still be able to be in the army?” She looked at his eyes, her brows furrowed even more. “It’s been his dream for the longest and now that he’s in, I don’t think he’d ever get out… but if he’s discharged, I think that’ll hurt him the most.” 

Ghost didn’t say anything right away so she continued her little rant. “Mom tried to get him to go to uni, but his heart was set on the army ever since he learned that our dad was in. He held onto that dream for so long and when mom let him go, well, I’ve never seen him so happy…”

Her breath shortened as tears ran down her face. “I—I should have been paying more attention. It’s my fault. I have no situational awareness, damnit, even Tommy’s told me that before. If I’d noticed sooner or realized what was going on, he wouldn’t be hurt. I’m the older twin. I should be-be the one taking care of him!” She sobbed harder. 

Ghost came to kneel in front of her. He took her hand that was twisting her bloody shirt. “It’s not your fault. You, nor anyone there, knew what was about to happen. Terrorists have no regards for the lives of the innocent while doing things that would harm them.”

“Tommy’s hurt but I can tell that he’s strong. I’ve been hurt like that before and I healed up fine. Plus he has even greater care here. They’ll take care of him and you only need to keep your head up and know that Tommy’ll pull through.” He continued. “He’s young so he’ll bounce back well enough to return to his unit. Don’t you worry your pretty lil’ head ‘bout that.”

“Thanks.” She laugh-cried. “But it’s hard to take you seriously with that mask.” She giggled. 

Ghost huffed. “Well, Tommy pulled some heroics back there saving you. Might even earn a brag rag with the right recommendations…”

Violet’s confused head tilt made him explain the meaning. “It’s a medal.”

Her eyes brightened. “You’d do that?”

He hummed. “Captain Price might put in a good word too, but yeah, he deserves it.”

There was a sudden and somber silence. His hand gripped his knee to prevent it from bouncing. 

“Ah… any plans for uni? Or something…?” Bollocks, how the hell do you talk to a 17 year old girl, who is also your child but doesn’t know it? Improvise… he guessed?

Violet told him that she was debating going to vet school or medical school to become a surgeon like her mother. She wasn’t sure which university she would apply to. 

“Tommy keeps teasing me that I should join him in the army as a field surgeon. But… um, I think I wanna help out people in our community here.” She chuckled softly. “I told him that if he ever got hurt he could come to me to patch him up, but that I’d have to hurt him again for even getting injured in the first place.”

Ghost smiled under his mask. Mask. His mask?

Maybe he wasn’t thinking clearly. Perhaps one too many whacks to the ole head. Or maybe it was the high of meeting his long lost children for the first time. Ghost wasn’t sure what it was…

His hand reached up, curling under the bottom of his balaclava, and pulled the black cloth over his head in one tug. The higher it went, the more his chin, lips, nose, cheeks, eyes, and hair was revealed. 

Violet’s breath hitched as she took his face in. Her eyes roamed over every feature and scars. She knew this face, from the back of her mind she knows that this face is like the one going through surgery right now. Like the one in the frame sitting on her mother’s desk right in front of her. Tears began to burn her eyes but did not fall. Her lip wobbled. 

~~~~~

“Violet, I am your father…” Simon’s eyes stared into hers for a moment before closing tightly. His brows scrunched together and his lips tugged into a fine line. 

“Was t-that a Star Wars reference? Or are you being serious?” Violet asked confused, burning tears finally falling. 

“You’ve seen Star Wars?” Stop deflecting, Simon!

“What?! Don’t change the subject Mr. Simon!” She gasped, her eyes widening. “Mister… Simon. Simon. Simon?”

“Yeah?” He asked, swallowing hard. 

“This doesn’t make sense! I-I must be hallucinating. Maybe, maybe I actually did die or something.” Violet’s voice shook. She closed her eyes and moved her head side to side. There was a subtle shake to her body. “Nope! This is not fucking real! You’re supposed to be dead! Dead, I tell you!”

Oh god, she’s reverting back to her drama club days. 

“Umm… language?” Not the time to reprimand her for her words. “I mean. Sorry. It’s… It’s just a really, really long story. I actually don’t know how I’d tell-“

“Daddy!” Violet sobbed and before Simon could comprehend it, the teenager had her arms wrapped around him as much as she could with his size and body armor. 

The shock in his eyes softened with her continued sobbing. It struck him in his heart. All the walls he’d built since before joining the Task Force began to crumble. Piece by piece, chunks began to disintegrate. His own eyes burned with tears that hadn’t fallen in years. It was almost a relief when they did start to fall. They dropped onto Violet’s shoulder and rolled down her back. 

Simon didn’t know how long they held onto each other for. Hours or days could pass but he would rather still be in the newfound embrace of his daughter. Violet had settled into soft sniffles and little hiccups, eventually falling asleep in his lap. His own tears had dried, for now, leaving streaks down his cheeks. For a moment, it felt peaceful despite the chaos several floors down and a few streets away. His arms tightened around Violet. He wasn’t sure if he could ever let her go… 

His eyes staring off into the wall flashed to the door when it was pushed open. And there she was. 

~~~~~

Dr. Riley sighed as the sound of the EKG flatlining continued. They had initially brought the patient back from cardiac arrest and proceeded with the surgery. However, in the last fifteen minutes he began to show signs of another cardiac episode. The nurses and she had tried their best but unfortunately the patient’s wounds were too much for his body to handle. 

Pulling off her bloody gloves and dumping them into the hazardous waste disposal, she told the nurses to take a breather since they’d been going at it for hours by that point. Hell, her shift had long been over when her daughter and son had arrived but she had stayed. She couldn’t bear leaving while knowing that many people were suffering. She’d seen over a dozen patients when the casualties started pouring in, almost tripling her patient count for the day. 

A quick change of clothes in a designated room and she was walking back to her office. Eerily, the floor her office was on was quiet. There were other busy wards here but the chaos was concentrated downstairs. She heard her crocs squeak on the polished floors. It used to make her blush at the loudness of the sound but now she couldn’t give a fuck. Her patients needed her, damnit!  As if a squeaky shoe would hold her back from reaching her patients on time just because she was embarrassed by the sounds. 

Reaching the door to her office, she noticed that the light was on letting her know that Violet had made it in one piece. 

“Hey, Violet, are you hungry-!” Her eyes widened in mild confusion and concern at what she saw, before glaring slightly. “What the fuck?!”

Her Violet was in the arms of a strange grown man, she been crying, clearly as they stained her cheeks. She nearly lost her top and yelled more before focusing on the man’s features. 

It was like seeing a ghost. 

He said something but it was like cotton balls were stuffed into her ears. Whatever it was she probably needed to see an otolaryngologist. She felt something fall down her face and along her neck and into her clean scrubs. Her vision blurred. She wasn’t sure if it was from tears building up or her body moving quickly in their direction. 

~~~~~

Simon called for her by name. He hadn’t said it in a very long time. It honestly hurt him to. After all, he had left her alone and with his children no less, although he hadn’t known. He’d spent some time thinking about it while holding onto Violet. If he would have stayed had she been able to tell him about them. He would like to think that, yes, he would have stayed, but Simon wasn’t sure if his own insecurities and trauma related to his abusive father would push him from wanting to claim such a responsibility. 

She stared blankly at him. Her dull and tired eyes worried him. He knew she’d had a long and hard day. Simon missed the shine in her eyes from long ago. He was starting to feel strange with her gawking. He shifted in his seat as softly as he could to not disturb Violet. 

The movement seemed to awaken her and gave her the strength to move closer to him. But her knees weakened and Simon had to outstretch an arm in order to catch her. A loud sob fell from her lips. Slightly chapped due to lack of time to care for them that day. The jerkiness of his movement woke up Violet and when she saw her crying mother in the arm of her dad, her tears renewed. 

“Mom!” She tasted salt. The words were taken from her. 

Simon pulled her up into his lap too, before tightening his arms around both of them. Both of his girl’s hands were clutching him equally as tight. They were all breathing heavily and their bodies shook with each sob, with each inhale and exhale. Simon rested his head against theirs. Fingers tangled in their hair. 

After they all calmed down a bit, Simon began to explain what happened all those years ago. What happened to his family, why he left, and that if he had known that he was going to be a parent that he would have taken the time to think things more carefully before doing anything drastic. 

She raised her hand against his stubbled cheek. “It’s not your fault, Simon. I should have told you about the pregnancy sooner. I-I just wanted to surprise you when you came home, but…” 

He knew the ‘but,’ he never came home. Only a news article about a whole family dying in a house fire. Dog tags left to be found hours later. His only living ‘relative’ was his father. 

He needed to stop thinking about his father, who he believes may or may not still be around. But those fears of being like him as an adult presented as usual. It was a constant struggle to let those feelings go. Feelings of inadequacy surfaced and since his face wasn’t covered as usual, it was easier to see by his frown and furrowed brow. 

She recognized that look on his face despite the many years apart. She held his face in her palm. He leaned into it, his own hand coming up to hold hers closer to him. The look in her eyes told him all the reassurances that he craved. 

Violet watched all this in awe. Never would she have thought that she’d be witness to the love between her mother and father. She tucked herself closer to her father’s chest. Violet had grown even more tired after the attack and the crying. Her eyes drooped and a sigh left her lips as she fell asleep. Simon’s arm subconsciously pulled her closer. 

It felt like hours but only thirty minutes had passed before Dr. Riley got restless. She tapped Simon on the shoulder. 

“I should go check if there are any updates on Tommy.” She said and Simon, reluctantly, let her go. “I’ll come back if there’s any news. And I’ll bring you both something to eat. Surprisingly, the cafeteria has a decent sandwich selection.”

Ghost nodded and readjusted his grip on Violet to hold her with both arms. 

“I can have a cot brought in if you want?” She looked lovingly between the two. A soft smile tugged at her lips. 

“Ah… I think I’m fine, for now at least.” His pale cheeks flushed. He just couldn’t let his little girl go. Especially not when she’s sleeping so peacefully in his arms. 

She nodded and left the room. 

During that time, his phone had buzzed and a text from Price glowed back at him. He texted that he had the next few days off and to not come in to work for any reason other than emergencies. 

Simon texted back a simple, “Okay.”

~~~

Dr. Riley returned with food in paper bags and good news. Tommy was in post-op and was being moved to a private room soon. She told Simon that she could take them there. So, Simon stood with Violet in his arms, who surprisingly has not been awoken by the move. His arms were under her knees and back. 

They had arrived before Tommy so Simon took the time to survey the room. It was rather large with a couch on each side of the room. His love told him that they pulled out into beds if they wanted to use them. Simon lowered Violet onto the blue couch, resting her head on the pillow and covering her with the provided gray hospital blanket. 

Thirty minutes later and Tommy was rolled in by a team of nurses. The principle doctor residing over his care began to explain the next steps in Tommy’s recovery. It felt like a lot but Simon was intimately familiar to the process due to his own previous injuries. 

Afterwards, his love was finally able to rest so she sat next to him on the other blue couch. There was distance between them and Simon couldn’t get his body to melt into the soft couch. He could feel her glancing at him from the corner of her eyes. He spied her hand inching towards his. His eyes looked and then looked away. He argued with himself to just grab hers. He finally said ‘fuck it all’ and just wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her whole body closer. 

A soft squeak escaped her lips. He buried his face into her hair and breathed in deeply. It still smelled like her shampoo. She melted into his embrace. 

“Simon?” He hummed. “I don’t know how, but, thank you.”

He looked her in those eyes that kept him awake at night. “Of course.” 

~~~

Two days later… 

~~~

Bleary brown eyes fluttered open. He took several moments to blink away the crust on his eyes. The blindly white room was dark with only a soft amber lamp glowing in the far corner. He felt like his body was stuck to what he was laying on. He looked down and saw white sheets. 

A flash of dark movement caught his eye from one of the pull out beds, fully stretched out and occupied. He shifted his stiff neck to see who or what it was. 

He saw his own eyes. 

Maybe he was dead. After all, he swore he saw his father sitting there by his mother. He tried his hardest but the sedatives won the battle. His tired eyes blinked slowly before finally closing. His breath evening out in slumber. 

Wide brown eyes stared at the monitor. Only relaxing when the machine kept beeping at a constant rate. Then, Simon laid back down and clutched her closer. She sighed and moved closer to him. And damn was he happy in that moment. 

Masterlist

🔖 Taglist:

@sae1kie

[blaithnne]

ok i forgot that goldie isnt canonically 5'1 on a good day so i have to restructure this ask

1) thoughts on short goldie

2) is heron short also

3) (contingent on answers 1 and 2) thoughts on scrooge and beakley both falling for tiny evil women

1) & 2)

I think the toxic yuri polycule height chart is something like this—!

They all wear heels so it’s not exact (also I whipped this up in like 5 minutes lol)

Huifen is tall, she’s a black heron after all, and though they’re not the tallest birds ever they’re still pretty long! But she looks short standing next to Beakley, because everyone does (also I undersized her a little bit in my first human drawing by accident, whoops). Goldie is a short queen LMAO, she’s not minuscule, only slightly shorter than the average person, but she looks tiny next to these two (she might be slightly shorter than I drew her here, idk, I struggled to scale her LOL). Scrooge, for the record, is around the same height as Goldie!

In terms of their builds btw, Beakley is, obviously, very muscular! Though she might seem like a tank, she’s actually very soft — big ol squishy teddy bear! Heron on the other hand is a gangly mf, long, skinny, and sharp. Goldie is sort of in between them, an hourglass build like Huifen, but with more muscle on her (not half as much as Beakley, though).

3)

Heron might not be tiny but Beakley treats her like she is, picks her up like a feral cat when she’s being too much 😌 Scrooge and Goldie only have a very slight height difference, but I think he’s very smug about it lol

Also, my funniest headcanon ever is that Beakley has a thing for bad girls, and she HATES IT. She’s so embarrassed about it and fully intends to take it to her grave. This also leads to her hating the aforementioned bad girls even more, bc she’s so frustrated with herself for liking the in the first place. So Beakley can spend 24 hours a day ranting about how much she hates someone, and be blushing the entire time. All this to say, Beakley might not technically have a leg to stand on when it comes to criticising Scrooge’s relationship, but that doesn’t stop her.

I think they’re both massive hypocrites about it, bc they wanna protect eachother despite the other really not needing the help. They’re also endlessly frustrated with eachother’s toxic Yuri partners. Beakley to a much bigger degree because she definitely has a thing for Goldie, which only makes her hate her even more. Scrooge is more annoyed by Beakley and Heron than anything else bc he just does not understand what the hell is going on there, but he’ll also occasionally be all,

In conclusion, Beakley and Scrooge being a disaster sibling duo is my favourite thing ever. Scrooge is practically immortal, nothing can take him down. Beakley is a walking tank, she could walk off a bullet. They looked at eachother and went “that idiot needs me to protect them from their own love life” and they were kind of right??

[pillowdrawz]

MASTERLIST OF ANYTHING 🎨🖌DRAWING

Commission Sheet

(Idk how a master list work)

Btw I did all of this for fun FOR FUN.

♤Turtles forever Au [just a bunch of Turtle gen. Interacting] (On hold)

° Meeting 1. (Old art)

• Meeting 2 (old art)

○ busted meeting 3 (old art)

● Cloaking broach? 1 (old art)

□ Cloaking Broach! 2 (old art)

■ Don's training (old art)

♤ Training

◇ Mutated Soldiers

♡ Mutated Soldiers Leo

◇ Mutated soldiers Donnie

♧ Raph meeting 2012 meme

☆ Meme a Ten is speaking. (Old art

▪︎ Into the leo verse. (Old art)

¤ Turtles and Their Krang

《 Leo's traumas

{ Think leon think

》Leo's and Rise raph

¡ 12 MIKEY CHEATZ. (Old art)

? Spider verse Meme leos

} Hopeful (old art)

[ Don't talk to me or Otherme (Oldart

☆ Playing (old art)

R adorable Rise raph. (NOT SHIPPING)

\ Pranks and Destruction.

◇ watching Leo get L.

♧ watching Donnies get guns

$ Bamf Leo in 2012 world.

1 Future Leo's,MiseryxCprxreesespuffs

% Energy and Stab-

$ Accidentally Mutated Vs Purposely Mutated

2 Raphs Slay

÷ Raphs Height (Not canon I just had fun)

E He likes to be tall

V Is For Valentine's L is for 2003 Mikey/j

Y- Yoshi!!??

A, B.E.A.S.T ACTOR AU

, :3

4 Mutant Mayhem ???

5 Tmnt Animatic Leo's "You'll play your part"

B B.e.a.s.t Leo Joins?

🃏 Joking about trauma be like

💥 Mutant Mayhem Donnie meets??

🐇⚔ Leosagi both 2003 and rise

🤚 DANGEROUS

🙂 ask someone else

-⏭⏸❗----------

◇ Hamatos Umarekawari Au.(On going)

* first post Explannation

+ Raph's death explained

× first meeting part 1

÷ Second meeting part 2

= Meeting (thanos meme)

€ Ryu took the wheel literally

£ Memes

^ more Memes twins

¥ Posture

₩ Bandana

# Rise Boys Looks

$ Random Art of the Au.

% Twins powers

& Float

- Another meeting but different

= Baby?

$ COUSINS??

# Origin???

8 The Kids cloaking brooch/Human form

9 Shelly take care of grandpa...NO DONT KILL HIM-

---⏸⏭---

Random things/ Headcanon)

Rottmnt recoil fanart

TAIL

Cloaking Broach Raph

Cloaking Broach leo Part 1 (bad art)

Cloaking Broach Leo part 2

Cloaking Broach Donnie

MY FAV HC ABOUT THE TWINS

MY FAV HC ABOUT HAMATO NINPO

Rise Leo new Hc???

RISE LEOS TWO POKEMON

He attacked the floor

Rise raph to Rise splinter

Rottmnt memes

Leo wants his sanity back

Disaster twins and Wildberry

Artist is on their Ao3 Author arc /j

=====⏭⏸❗📶===

💀♠️RISESAGA A ROTTMNT X UNDERTALE AU! <<<And for more content click the blog there is now a master list there!!!♠️💀(Rewritting)

---📶⏸💥------

✍Ninjago.✍

+Ninjago Kung fu panda part 1

# Ninjago Kung fu panda part 2

= Lloyd,Brad and Gene fanart

$$ Sensei Garmadon SCREENSHOT REDRAW

B What if Uno reverse card Harumi

--Zzzzzz⏸📶zzzzzzZ--

Rise piece Rottmnt X one piece

- Join His crew

Alabasta arc. Super what??

⚠️spoiler Marineford arc⚠️ Older brother

-------$⏯Monster Promx Monster High crossover comic⏸(On.hold)$----- A SPOOKY CROSSOVER

❌ Oz] Their mission

🧟‍♂️ Brian's And Zombies Part 1

---🗨HAMATOS EXORCISM AU 🗨---

✍ FIRST POST/PROLOGUE?

🖤 EXPLANATION? AND PIEBALD???(joke art only the pokemon one)

👌 Memes

🙌 real lore and Tmnt 2007

✨️Funfacts Mikeys Flaming heads yokais friends

👞clothes..

----- Loading-----

--🐢⛑Ninjago x Rottmnt "Turtles Aid Au"🐢⛑--(Ongoing)

⛑ Prologue/first

[ghostsferalgremlin]

HORANGI HEADCANONS

Every single thing i'm gonna write down here is how I personally picture Horangi and, as i said in my pinned, if you don't like it scroll away, bye bye.

                                  ................

• He is an idiot, not in a bad way, but in a genuine way.

It's not like he is dumb or something, but he goes on with his days by core memory and that only, this leads to something happening every five - ten minutes or so.

• This man is the definition of feral and they send him on the field like he's a wild animal ready to take down anyone.

He has fun, let's be real, he finds it funny when he hit targets and put down enemies even at hands in hands combat, he lives for it, also he's always ready for a fight, both on and off the field, big grin on his face.

• He lives to scare people.

The dark rituals skin? Yeah he asked for it and i picture the red parts to be reflective so they're only visible on certain lights. Tecnically speaking, i picture it to be good when they need backup or snipers looking over them at nigh, practically he walks around the base in the middle of the night with it on just to scare the shit out of whoever cross his way in the dark.

• He knows he's pretty but the mask stay ON.

Let's be real here, the man know how pretty he is, i picture him using his look to go away with things before joining the army, or before they ruined his face. He still thinks he looks good, but part of his brain refuses to take the mask off not because he's scared they cpuld find him in the base, but because he hates to see the looks of pity of the poeple when they see how he is right now.

• Your food? Nop. HIS food.

If you eat something different than what je's eating be ready to say gpodbye to it 'cause he will definitely ask for a bite, and it's never just a bite. Never. He knows how to do the puppy eyes and knows how to use them.

• He never spoke with anyone for a whole year.

I picture him not knowing any english when he joined and, while he was still learning, he never spoke or never answered to anything in a whole year, both because he didn't know how and because he kinda felt bad not being able to speak correctly. When he started tho it was the end, man never shut up.

• He's tiny.

Listen, i get that canonically they did him almost the same height as König, but i can't help to picture him being like 1.75/1.80 max. And compared to others? He is indeed tiny. Once König picked him up like it was nothing and he never recovered from that.

• Bisexual king.

He's way too chaotic not to be a bisexual, idk what else to say about this.

• His ringtone is a nightmare and once Oni fought him to change it.

His ringtone? Ring ding dong by shinee. Not because he actually likes it, but because he knows how mad people gets when it starts ringing and they can't so nothing to shut it down. He even dance on it just to piss the others off even more.

• Other than that? Man lis a metalcore baby.

He loves it, he lives for it, he knows every band on this planet, he just really likes it. Sometimes he even listen to deathcore or heavy/nu metal, but metalcore? You can find him knowing every word of every song possible.

•Feral, but he gets hurt pretty easily.

Listen, he loves to piss people off, but he also keeps reminding them how much that's his love language and how he keeps doing it cause he loves having them around. When they look genuinely pissed off? This hurts him and he goes days without doing anything because he really thinks people actually hates him, he's hurt by it and it took the same person to say out loud that they care about him to stop the bad thoughts he has.

                                  ................

[fanby-fckry]

What do you think Hazbin crew (Lucifer, Charlie and Vaggie included) would do if they were suddenly transformed into humans? For sinners it would be back to their human forms and for Morningstars and Vaggie it would be the "if they were ever humans" appearance

Ooh-hoohoohoo, this is a good question.

Sorry I’m late responding, but I’m gonna dig right into it, now.

Alastor:

Alastor would probably have the strongest negative reaction. He already hates the fact that his agency (and possibly his power) is limited by his Deal, can you imagine what being turned human (and therefor stripped of the majority of his power) against his will would do to him?

To be human is to be weak. He cannot be weak, won’t allow himself to be weak. He spent so long building his power, his reputation, his empire, and now it’s gone? Just like that? He’s back where he started in this measly human body that can’t even hold a smile properly?

Instant mental breakdown.

Angel Dust:

Angel’s reaction is going to be a bit strange, because I think it’d be less emotional and more sensory.

He’d be going from eight eyes to two, four/six arms to two, dropping several feet of height, hearing from ears vs hair, having different feet. He’d be grateful for the feet thing, don’t get me wrong, but he’d still have to relearn how to walk plantigrade, on top of all the other changes.

He’d go to reach for things with arms that aren’t there, stumble on feet he isn’t used to, and feel like a horse wearing blinders without his extra eyes for peripheral vision.

Charlie:

I think she’d be delighted, tbh. I’m not sure if this is still canon, but at one point, Viv said that Charlie has a very idealized version of what it means to be human. She’s never met an actual human (as opposed to a Sinner or Winner), and has never been to the Living World. I think she’d sing a song celebrating this opportunity to “experience the beauty of a human life!”

And then over the course of the story arc, she’d learn that, 1.) human bodies are fragile, 2.) humans are just as capable of cruelty as demons and angels, 3.) maybe her views of humanity were off just a smidge. And then she’d wanna go home.

Husk:

Idk how canon this is, but old-lore says Husk hates his demon form! So, I think he’d have a fairly positive reaction to getting his human form back.

Not that he’d show it, of course. His poker face is too good for that. He’s not going to let anyone know. (Angel figures it out, anyway. Alastor would’ve, too, if he weren’t so preoccupied with hating his own humanity.)

Lucifer:

Freaks out -> Tries to calm himself down by saying, “This can be a learning experience!” -> Freaks out again when he realizes that Charlie is human and vulnerable, and he’s human and weak, so he won’t be able to protect her the way he could as a Fallen angel.

Also, the no shape-shifting thing would be a bummer. In between steps 2 and 3, he’d be experiencing various mundane human annoyances that he never had to deal with as an angel.

Lucifer: How do you people live like this?

Alastor: Technically, we don’t! We’re all dead. :)

Lucifer: Sheesh, way to bring down the mood.

Alastor: I had to get it on your level somehow, your lowness.

Niffty:

Wildcard. I have no idea how she’d react.

I maintain that she was just as weird in life as she is in death, and that her demon form just gives her better ways to express her weirdness. So she’d probably still be hunting/torturing bugs, just with less efficiency now that she’s bigger, slower, and less fireproof.

Vaggie:

I think this one kind of depends on whether or not the Exorcists are Winners.

I, personally, think this would be Vaggie’s first time being human. I think she’d feel incredibly uneasy with it. Just an overwhelming sense of anxiety and powerlessness, constantly on edge and unable to do anything about it.

Bonus Round!

Cherri Bomb:

I headcanon Cherri as having lost an eye in an arson/explosion mishap, so she wouldn’t have as drastic of a sensory change as Angel Dust, but like. It’d still be an adjustment, considering her eye would be smaller and moved to one side of her face.

She also wouldn’t be able to summon bombs at will, which would be a major bummer. But she probably still remembers how to make them from scratch, so that’s not going to stop her, just slow her down a little.

Sir Pentious:

Leggies! He hasn’t had legs in over 100 years! He doesn’t remember how they work! But wow, it’s nice to have them!

Bonus-Bonus Round!

UHverse Lilith:

She hasn’t been human since Eden. She doesn’t quite know how to feel about this. It’s been so long since she’s been this woman. Since she’s been so unsure of herself, so weak.

She puts her emotions aside for now because they aren’t productive. She can unpack them when she gets home – cry in her husband’s arms for the first time in a century or so, knowing that she and her family are safe in their relative immortality again.

In the meantime, she needs to be present and looking for a way to fix this. Alastor is already down for the count and Lucifer is distracted by his strange new humanity. She’s going to have to take initiative here. She needs to protect her family and get them back their bodies, their powers, and their home.

Aaa, thank you so much for this ask! I had a blast answering it!

[optiwashere]

This seemed fun, so why not do this for my babies? Portraits taken from art in this post.

Some elaborations under the cut...

Stats

Ages are at the end of BG3. Shadowheart is at least late 40s in canon, but I always had her as 50 in my mind. She has her birthday in my fic canon during the post-Absolute Crisis rebuilding while Asheera's won't be for another few months.

Asheera is ~201cm tall, Shadowheart is ~170cm tall. Roughly 31cm height difference!

Ship Parameters

Shadowheart and Asheera both enjoy being the big spoon and little spoon, but Shadowheart prefers being nestled in Asheera's embrace. Doesn't mean for a bit that the roles aren't reversed now and again, though.

Shadowheart wears Asheera's clothes all the time. Constantly. They are, of course, comically oversized on her.

They both use pet names for one another, but Asheera fancies herself a bit of a romantic so she likes to come up with melodramatic ones ("my Heart") while Shadowheart prefers "love" and "my love." Shadowheart also calls Asheera "my Lady paladin" a lot in the fics, but IDK if you consider that a pet name or not?

Shadowheart is undoubtedly far, far, far more introverted than Asheera. In fact, Asheera is pretty extroverted in general. The extrovert/introvert ship dynamic is my catnip, how could you tell?

So, the affection one I took to mean what they prefer. Shadowheart likes quality time and affirmations while Asheera likes acts of service and quality time. However, if you imagined it as what they do then their placements would be flipped.

Shadowheart confesses love first. Affection and attraction, that's technically Asheera.

Neither of them really panic about bugs. Asheera has a bad habit of killing the little creatures though, and she has serious thoughts about her own oaths when she does it.

Horse riding... Listen, all I'm saying is Asheera riding a horse with Shadowheart behind her? Yeah. But, like, if we're literally talking about driving a car then Shadowheart can drive but if anyone else offers to drive then she's going to take the opportunity to sit in the passenger seat, curate the music, and fall asleep.

Shadowheart knows how to cook because she's an adult, but she's just terrible at it. I'm sorry, she is a horrible cook to me. Her taste buds are all fucked up from decades of sampling/testing poisons, venoms, and paralytics as a Sharran. Asheera's not much better, she just knows that if Shadowheart cooks it'll be a disaster for everyone.

Shadowheart prefers discretion and Asheera loves giving her wife big, showy kisses for all to see. They have an understanding.

Despite the jealousy levels, Asheera is prone to overprotectiveness. After everything that Shadowheart went through in her life, after everything that Asheera saw in her memories and in the events of BG3, there's no way she doesn't immediately come to Shadowheart's defense at pretty much any perceived slight. Shadowheart finds it very sweet, but unnecessary. She can defend herself just fine. Doesn't mean she hates it though.

Shadowheart has the age on Asheera by a margin, and she spent decades in a Sharran cloister. Calling them "relationships" is probably a bit much to be fair, though. This doesn't mean Asheera is some naïve virgin! She's actually more experienced with long-term relationships than Shadowheart.

Levels

They're both extremely horny, especially for one another, but Shadowheart wins out on this one by sheer excitement to try out anything and everything that she thinks Asheera would want to try. Asheera isn't a prude by any stretch of the imagination.

Shadowheart is awkward in that "sheltered in a cult commune" kinda way. She says the wildest shit sometimes and expects people to just move on from it. Someone who quotes erotica with their friend in public is going to cause others to feel awkward. Asheera on the other hand? She makes things awkward by either being way too serious about a situation or cracking bad jokes about it; there is no in-between, and nobody is sure what to expect.

Asheera doesn't get jealous. Shadowheart is jealous of things that aren't really related to their relationship. I don't think either of them gets jealous over that sorta thing. Shadowheart just has to manage her feelings about family given that Asheera has one that loves her and she was able to experience a childhood and such. That triggers jealousy which Asheera finds normal and reasonable and completely understandable. It's one of those aspects of Shadowheart's specific trauma that isn't really something you "get over" and Asheera, while finding it hurtful and hard to deal with sometimes, relies on her training and oaths as a paladin to manage that specific hurdle in their relationship.

[justallihere]

The way I was grinning ear to ear reading this chapter (EXCEPT FOR THE SOBBING PART HOW DARE YOU)

This chapter was very Violet (black cat gf) x Xaden(doberman bf) coded, sleepy cat gf being guarded by her scary dog boyfriend

X will shirk their duties for as long as he needs to, who cares if they have a country to run, his wife needs good food and sleep!!!!

 "Xaden loomed over her shoulder" I can tell I'm already going to love reading this bit OVER and OVER again

“You go or I go.”  “You fight dirty,” he murmured.  I already know this is going to be a repeat offense between V and X -- consequences of your actions indeed Xaden

Liam held her even tighter. “It’s my honor,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her hair. “To be your friend. To be your guard. To know you. I would do it all over again, Vi.” 

absolutely sobbed when Liam started to cry bc Vi was crying 😭 (be ready to hear from my therapist). In this house, men cry and its healthy!!!!

Platonic squad naps/cuddling 😭 😭 😭 someone give Ridoc and Rhi an award bc I love them so much (sawyer too but he was w/ jesnia sooo)

THE HUG!! THE HUG!!!! and Xaden's hand always going to her hair

I swear Alli, if Xaden gets tortured... idk what I'd do. I'd probably eat it up bc Violet would literally rip ppl in half to get to her husband

Xaden feels so much more open with his emotions (smiling and laughing 😭) around violet and im here for it

“It’s an unlocking rune I'm so glad he tells her these things instead of leaving her in the dark like in canon (looking at you RY)

The potential and TENSION between Felix and Devera 👀👀👀

questions:

Why hasn't Mira slept 😭 also when/will we see Mira vs Brennan?

OMG WAIT - if the trade deal is off with Navarre... does that mean they have to make a deal with Teacurus??? Or does Mama Sorrengail come in clutch

Xaden literally does not CARE. Violet needs a nap so Violet gets a nap. End of story.

Their height difference makes his looming so much funnier because I imagine she maybe reaches his shoulder so he doesn’t even have to try to move or do anything out of the ordinary to glare at people over the top of her head. And Violet will absolutely be using his overprotectiveness to her advantage. Xaden needs to do something but won’t? Oh well she’s queen, she can just go! (Or not.)

The platonic nap!! I’ve had that scene in my head for so long 😭

It took 200k words but they HUGGED. Everyone clap. Also yeah Xaden takes every excuse he can get to touch Violet’s hair and she will have to call him out on that eventually.

Idk I can’t remember if Felix and Devera even so much as looked at each other in canon but I don’t care there’s potential. They would be so badass together.

Mira’s stressed as fuck and having a lot of emotions about life so sleep is evading her. Mira/Brennan showdown hopefully next chapter?? I promise you she’s not calm, she is vibrating with rage but holding it in for Violet’s sake.

Re: trade deals will be answered soon!!!

[overly-verbose]

I take back my previous threats of violence as my foolish self had not scampered through your art book in all its glory.

Chapter 8 has the reference that is to be used in general, correct?

No worries, I actually chuckled a bit reading that lmao - I didn't expect a reference for SIkuna being in high enough demand for me to be threatened at watergun-point 😂

(the previous Ask with the 'threats of violence' in question for context purposes;

😂)

I'll probably try to draw something of an actual approximation of a 'reference sheet' with the little differences (I was actually planning to do that for the Ask but uh that'd take much longer than this), but to explain it quickly (well, for me quickly which isn't at all);

Chapter 8 of Visuals has actually moreso to do with a perhaps-hypothetical scenario in which later down the timeline SIkuna gets Somehow separated from Yuji and gains a body of his own

- and that allows him to switch between Normal Form

which is basically how he looked whilst possessing Yuji, except probably quite a bit taller (it's already a bit stifling in comparison to the Big Form so he wouldn't make himself even shorter just to keep to Yuji's height lol), a bit older

(he looks a bit older whilst possessing Yuji anyway but yeah),

with some (usually) black earrings and two slits in his left eyebrow to connect it to the Big Form visually

The version with the earrings and slitted eyebrow can f.e. be seen in Chapter 11 lol, just with pink hair for that last one

And Big Form/True Form

which is about 9~feet / 3~ meters tall (I based it off of that one short manga flashback moment rather than some other seemingly smaller depictions?), has four arms and such + mostly wears the outfit from Chapter 8/14 but would also wear different things just like he would in Normal Form

- and I follow the logic of the clothes Somehow changing to fit whenever he suddenly shrinks or grows rather than having to have specifics outfits, but the four-arms thing still kinda demands a different wardrobe anyway for most cases lol

(+ he does have the stomach mouth in the Big Form, and sometimes he'll prefer to leave it uncovered so another outfit difference then,

like maybe an open robe in place of a shirt, something cropped, or occasionally just forgoing a shirt altogether lol)

I think a better reference for the height comparison between him and other characters in that form is moreso Chapter 11 and 14, but it doesn't matter That much

But like, in terms of outfit it doesn't have to be exactly what I've drawn before lol

- he's more of a comfy/casual guy but I'm 1000% certain that Nobara + perhaps other kids would take him shopping sometimes (she or they can't let this particular Older Familial Figure go unfashionable constantly!) and he'd probably want to occasionally wear something more Wowowo so he'd likely have something other than a dozen sweatshirts (and robes and comfy pants and such) somewhere in his wardrobe too 😂

(some Hello Kitty™ merch is also a must, For The Meme!!!)

And I've mentioned it a few times before but, especially if separate from Yuji unless he'd also agree to painted nails which he just might, he's likely to have painted claws/nails sometimes lol - they're a nice big canvas for Nobara to practice her skills on y'know, and he definitely wouldn't mind

.

In terms of how he looks inside the Domain, it's mostly just Canon-kuna's look lol

The kimono/kosode(? I have yet to understand what the exact difference is but heard it may be the second) is the same, the scarf and blue(?) accents on the sides of the main robe and stuff

with the anime-only addition bow to the back of the sash/idk material belt because yes, and because it's something to fiddle with whenever SIkuna gets ungodly bored lmao (the equivalent of fiddling with a sweatshirt's zipper or hoodie string lol)

I've interpreted whatever Canon-kuna wears on his legs as some sort of simple black pants that run down until a bit after the socks beneath the sandals(?) start or something like that??

I don't think he wears anything under the upper part of the kimono(?) but maybe there is some sorta ancient Japanese equivalent of a t-shirt I dunno about lol, besides that it's the same with the wide sleeves and everything

The sandals(?) are the same as in Canon, I've seen somewhere that they could have a small false heel (like a cut underneath that doesn't actually raise the heel of the foot idk how to explain it better) but it's an utter detail lol

As aforementioned, the scarf-thing around his neck is the same too, it's definitely an addition SIkuna appreciates heh - it's comfy ����

(the Inner/Innate Domain examples I've drawn in Chapters 1, 4, 5, most of 10, 1st bonus drawing in 11, a cropped out glimpse in 13 and second drawing of 14 is ok lol - I just forgot about some things earlier/got better at it with time maybe)

.

In terms of physical differences, in or outside the Domain, the biggest one is probably the eyes

His usual/regular look involves the pupil/most inner part of the eye being white, then having a ring of darker red, then much lighter/brighter red

Meanwhile, whenever he's feeling particularly murderous/spooky/overall more OG-kuna-like (f.e. in Part 4 after a bit of 'experimenting' on the Special Grade), the sequence becomes [very light/bright red, much darker red, a bit lighter/brighter red]

(I mostly draw the eyes in a more oval shape, but that's just my stylistic choice lol - I don't mind it being the same but don't mind otherwise ofc

Same with the colours, they don't have to be Exactly those)

Like this;

And the fact that he actually has a whole Four eyes be eyes and usually all open - the secondary eyes are smaller, but are full eyes with colour and stuff rather than the sometimes barely-there look they had with Canon-kuna

(I'm not yet 100% certain if the difference in colouring is seen in-universe, though 🤔 - but for drawings yeah)

Another thing that isn't usually consistent in the manga/anime (from what I can remember) is the way Canon-kuna sometimes has moreso claws Or fingernails - SIkuna basically always has claws (they sharp!)

I'm kinda contemplating including slightly pointed at the tips ears to the list but it's not an 'official' characteristic lol

.

I've... Uh. Gone off on a tangent?? As per usual lmfAO-

But hope you get at least a little useful info from this?? 😂

(I don't mind clarifying questions lmfao (though my apologies if I take some time to respond))

Also, I'm not that much of a stickler for detail just fyi - even if the interpretation were to differ in some way from this rambly excuse for a guide I'd still love and adore any and all art created for my story because hOLY MAC A R O N I- *implodes from pure joy*

(Assuming, of course, that that's what 'for scientific purposes' meant 😂)

[in-flvx]

I saw a post a few days ago about the different shades of Sirius' eyes. Like.. It could be any colour. So I want to ask in which eyecolour for sirius you believe? And what eyecolour does Remus have? Aaand what about Sirius' hair colour? James has black hair in the books, and sirius just dark. But what is dark? Is it black as well? Is it a dark brown?

U know what, if you are in the mood feel free to make a whole physical description of the three 🌚

Hey you 🥰 sorry for the late reply but I think I have my answer now.

Sirius does actually have black hair in Canon, I wasn't sure after reading this ask, but I looked and he does (one of many - the hp series has a lot of white people with black hair idk why). I hc that hair to have some waves and curls in it that also show when it's short, and enough to turn a bit wild looking and coarse when they're not taken care of, but with relatively little effort it's sleek and shiny. In swm it falls elegantly into his eyes, but that man can't do anything without looking graceful, so that applies to his hair too.

I think he has the typical pureblood-grey eyes, but even though I'm pretty sure his eyes are described as light at some point during the books, I prefer to think they're more of a dark grey, with a touch of heterochromia into either green, blue brown or even just another shade of grey, you know, like damascene steel or the stormy sea.

He has full arched brows, and a somewhat pointed nose. He also has a few beauty marks, most importantly one right next to his eye, that makes it seem like he's wearing eyeliner. More so than his full black lashes do.

He's tall, and slim, but his torso is dorito shaped, giving him a slutty little waist and the appearance of more muscle than he actually has. His resting face looks bored and alone for that reason does it come across as arrogant when he is confident in anything, and when he wants to play the pureblood he let's his eyelids grow heavier to accentuate this. He is generally surrounded with an aura of crackling electricity, of great resting energy.

Remus is very beige in his general appearance, or rather unobtrusive. His hair is coarse but not exactly wavy or curly, and of a light brown colour. He starts to grow sideburns in the 70s and never let's go of them. He starts greying in his late 20s. He is of an average height and statue, though he tends to lose weight around his transformations. His eyebrows are light and slim but grow close in the middle. His hair gets lighter when he spends time in the sun and he tans well. His eyes are light brown as well, with a tendency to yellow that is part him and part werewolf. They look like dark honey or caramel. He smiles a lot, and has otherwise a mild expression, though he does get frowny when he starts to think. Enough so that even his more insane ideas and brash decisions seem measured and reasonable. Which brings his friends sometimes into trouble for things he had initiated and done.

James has black hair. It's a messy mop of curls, and he has a cow lick in the back that let them stand up there no matter what he does. He has a slim face with a long nose. He's generally slim, has a seekers body, like Harry, but does a lot to gain muscle and fat for his chaser position. HIs eyes are hazel, with some green spots in them that only really show when the sun illuminates them and makes his pupils smaller. His skin looks golden and perpetually sunkissed. He does have a bad case of akne that leaves him with some scarring in his face and gets his first white hairs at 19. Even though both makes him unhappy, he enjoys attention too much to let this make him insecure, and he'd be attractive on account of this confidence alone

[jadedrrose]

Sooga is not 10 feet tall…

Ok. I keep seeing posts on here mentioning that he’s anywhere from 9-12 feet tall and because I am a loser that has nothing better to do, I am presenting my evidence that proves he’s actually around 7’1”/215 cm or so.

Age of calamity just…. Sized everyone up/down in weird ways. Idk. I’m assuming they did it to make Sooga feel more “scary” or like a big boss character, if that makes sense. So anyway, Sooga is the same height/scale as the blademasters in AOC. Really, he’s sort of a “reskinned” one but with extra stuff (his hair, collar, swords, etc). The game even refers to him as a blademaster sometimes. Now… because I don’t know how to do render/model stuff, I tried to take a screenshot of him and a blademaster side by side in game. That… did not go well. Even on easy mode, the blademasters would not sit still for even a second so, this is the best I could get:

And here’s Sooga compared to Link (in AOC)

Now if we look at the blademasters in BOTW/TOTK, you can clearly see that they’re much shorter than they are in AOC. Here’s one compared to Link:

Now as for how I got my estimate of 7’1/215cm. It’s not the greatest method (and I suck at math so there’s no way I can figure it out through the render sizes). It seems people generally believe that Link is around 5’2”, and considering the amount of npc’s who call him short, I think that would be about right. So what I did was get on one of those height comparison websites and get a 5’2” guy and then put in different heights until I got one that matched where Link stands compared to a blademaster. And keep in mind, I’m not including the hair on Link or the blademaster in their height estimates. That and, the blademasters wear hoods, so I took a couple of cm off for that too. Another thing: obviously I can’t get the exact shape of Link/the blademaster so while it may look a bit off, I’m like 99% sure it’s not.

And there you have it. So while I can’t “confirm” Sooga’s actual canon height, I can at least prove he’s not 10+ feet tall, lol.

[charbon-et-feu]

I got this ask on my art blog within minutes of posting that Hoenn boys bunny art so I'm pretty sure that's what prompted it. I don't want to clutter my art blog with this nonsense, so I'm not going to answer it there, but I do want to dissect it a little bit.

"You're not even trying to age him up or anything"

It's fascinating (and sometimes a little concerning) to get a glimpse of what people's standards are for what makes a fictional character look like an adult. I can usually see where people are coming from when they assume that a character is young based on their appearance, but it's annoying when people confidently say that a character must be a child if they're drawn a certain way, and then go on to assume the worst of an artist if they draw something a little spicy. It's already difficult to guess most people's ages irl, so it's silly to think you can reliably guess the age of a fictional character drawn in an anime/cartoon style.

People come in all shapes and sizes. People from some East Asian countries tend to be shorter and younger looking, and then you have people from Scandinavian countries who are typically super tall. Idk where anon is from, but a lot of the people who like to fuss over the ages of fictional characters are from the US. This is crazy to me because the US is such a diverse melting pot, so you would think that someone living here would understand that there's no one-size-fits-all definition for what an adult looks like.

And none of this even really matters when you're talking about fictional characters. They're not real. They're objects, dolls that we play dress up with and smush together and use to tell stories. We throw them on a stage to entertain us. Sometimes, it's heartwarming or funny or sad, and, sometimes, it makes us uncomfortable. Oftentimes, we put them through hell, but no matter what, they can't hurt us, and we can't hurt them. So, it's a safe way to explore our ideas and try to understand ourselves and our world a little better.

It's so strange when people judge someone based only on what they enjoy in fiction and art. It really doesn't matter how I draw Brendan or any other character, so I'm just gonna keep doing what I'm doing. But I do want to try to dig into why anon thinks that I'm not aging up Brendan at all, because I think it's interesting to analyze and try to understand the thought process behind comments like these. Feel free to take this next bit of rambling with a grain of salt. I'm mostly just speculating based off anon's ask and similar arguments that I've observed from people who try to argue that a character looks too young to be an adult.

For reference, here's the art that (most likely) prompted the ask:

When I draw Brendan, I'm usually going for older teen/young adult. I did make him a little skinnier than I would have liked here, but he still looks like he could be anywhere from a teen to a baby-faced adult. So why does anon see a child?

I'm guessing one of the main reasons is that Brendan is short. And since Wallace is super tall, it makes Brendan look even smaller. Most of the characters don't have canon heights, but I've seen people estimate Wallace's height at a little over 6'(183cm) by comparing character models in Pokemon Masters, and Steven is a few inches shorter than Wallace. I go with 6'2"(188cm) for Wallace and 5'11"(180cm) for Steven. I think most of the protags are under 5'(152cm), but I make Brendan at least 5'5"(165cm). Even with the extra inches, Wallace still makes him look small lol. Here's a little chart I made for myself a while ago so you can see what I mean.

Could I make Brendan taller? I guess I could, but I'm not going to. The height difference is part of the appeal for me. It's fun to draw, and with certain poses, it can be an interesting challenge. Also, short men exist, and they're valid.

I'm guessing the other reason anon sees Brendan as a child is because I drew him pretty cutesy and baby-faced compared to Steven and Wallace. In the bunny pic, Brendan's bashful expression and somewhat feminine pose and outfit also add to the cuteness. I like to keep the somewhat big, rounded eyes from his canon design, but I do the same thing when I draw Akari/Dawn, and I haven't gotten any angry asks about my volokari art. I just like to draw Brendan cute. Is that the problem? Can someone not be perceived as a man if they give off too much cute, feminine energy? Hmm... That kinda smells like toxic masculinity.

I can't help but wonder if anon is letting common stereotypes rooted in traditional patriarchal USAmerican gender norms poison their perception of what a man should look like. "Real" men must be tall, strong, rugged, etc, and if they don't meet those strict standards then they must be either a boy or a woman. (Similarly, women must be short, dainty, soft, have big boobs, etc, but this is about Brendan so we won't get into that.) If you transfer this mindset to stylized art of fictional characters, I can see how anon arrived at their conclusion. But this way of thinking is close-minded and objectively wrong because the average, white USAmerican's view of the world is not universal. What about short, feminine men? Flat chested women? Trans men? Are we not allowed to draw and sexualize these types of characters? Kinda sucks for all the short kings and petite women out there who want to see a character that looks like them get railed by their favorite blorbo of the month. Sorry guys, you must be this tall if you want a fictional character with your body type to be sexualized. No fun allowed.

Maybe I'm wrong and it's not that deep, but this is how ridiculous people sound when they start breaking out the rulers and measuring the art of fictional characters to determine if it fits into their (often inconsistent) standards of what an adult looks like. Now, I do understand that certain types of art can make people uncomfortable, and that's perfectly valid. I also have a certain threshold for when a character starts to look a little too young and I'm no longer comfortable seeing them depicted in certain ways. When I come across art like that, I just unfollow/block/mute and move on. It's not that serious and definitely not a good reason to jump into some random person's inbox to harass them.

Also, I don't want to get into this topic too much (since this is already really long) but I think it's worth noting that these types of comments usually only start popping up when the art has sexual elements to it. Young Shounen Anime protagonists experience varying degrees of violence regularly, but I can't remember the last time I saw someone question the morals of those creators. Why does the pearl clutching only happen when creators try to dive into sexual territory with fictional characters? Just something I wish these people would take the time to think about.

Anyway, anon can think I'm weird if they want, but I think the assumptions they're making say a lot more about them than they do about me. I'm just here to have fun and draw cute anime boys, and Brendan just happens to be my favorite doll rn. I enjoy playing dress up with him, and sometimes that means he's gotta get in the bunny outfit. It's fine. He's having fun. He told me himself.

I didn't mean to ramble this much, and I don't usually like engaging with discourse, but I had some thoughts, and I wanted to get some of them out. I love art. I think creators should be free to make whatever beautiful, weird art they want, so I think it's important to push back against this behavior when we can. But if I get more asks like this, I promise I won't respond to them often.

If you made it to the end, thanks for taking the time to read all that. I don't usually talk much, so when I do, it's nice when people listen. As a reward for your efforts, please accept this unfinished Steven art.

[milos-lil-corner]

Headcanons with accompanying doodles

Below are headcanons and stuff of multiple creepypasta dudes.

Random thought from a friend: Zalgo really not liking being summoned by either their followers or random weirdos, so he would be very passive aggressive and try to cut time short to get the hell out of there so they can go back to whatever they were doing before. Not nessacarily a headcanon, but I'd like to imagine it.

Anyways, Zalgo in a a steriotypical "I really don't wanna be here" shirt

-

Since me and my friend headcanon Slender as blind ( legally, at least. It can still vaugely see shapes near itself, but otherwise can't see shit without the use of its azoth. Anyways - ), and because of their species weird thing about height, Slender might mistake a light pole to be one of its species and sort of just. Stand there, sizing it up for a couple of hours.

Imagine your walking in the woods and see a fucker the size of a two story house sizing up a lamp post.

-

It's said ghosts and demons can't get to you if you are in a circle of salt. And since Sally is a ghost, I'd imagine that salt should would work on her too.

Cue, teddy bear in a salt circle. Whoever put it there, who knows - but they are an asshole.

-

I haven't read LJ's story, so idk if the shit I'm saying would be technically canon or not, but I'd like to think he'd use his box as a place to sleep. Sure, he was imprisoned in the box for a long ass time, but hey - self torture and trauma can't get in the way of a good night's sleep.

-

'Nother thing about LJ - I'd like to imagine he would collect those dumb plushie clowns. Whether its because he finds them cute or as a way to cope, who knows.

Also, LJ's design is different from the original cause I'd like to think his little accessories and shit can be removed. Also gives the impression of him being a plush doll, which is what he is in my mind lol.

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Ill make a post about SlenderFolk and my version later on, but here's an example of how some would sleep. They can also sleep while standing, looking like a tree from far away with their azoth just sort of hanging around everywhere to keep them upright. Course, though, if they were to feel safe enough, they can just lay down like a cat or something.

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SlenderFolk are tall as hell, so the thought of them being struck my lighting due to how high they are is funny as fuck. Depending on how old the SlenderFolk is, I'd like to imagine they would have more lighting scars or something like that. Shows the age.

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Little doodle of Slenderman as a welp. Result of a convo between my friend on the wholesome tragedy thats going on between Splendor and Slender. In the rp lore, Splendor is the oldest out of the bunch, with Slender being the second oldest. Splendor took care of himself and his brother during the evolution of human civilization, being all cute and shit before character development happened and their relationship turned sour.

But yeah! Slender as a lil cutie.

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Speaking of welps - SlenderFolk call their youth welps. Course, the person showed on the ground isn't a welp, as its one of my ocs ( mechanical limbs due to unwilling experimentation by the military - it's a long story ). Again, Slenderman being blind helps create funny ( at least to me and my friend ) scenerios that double as a way to explore SlenderFolk culture and weird cryptid lore.

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And that's about it. More to come soon :)