#if it looks bad and is colorful he has it

[fox-guardian]

[ID: Six digital headshot drawings of Jimmy from Mouthwashing doing different expressions with colored overlays. The top three are of him rolling his eyes, doing a fake smile with a tiny eye-roll doodle next to it, and smiling mischievously all in green. The bottom row has two of him crying badly in orange, and one of him sweating and looking downwards in horror in red. end ID]

~~~~

jimmy expressions. gonna blow him up real bad.

i'm so mad he is VERY fun to draw

[witherby]

what would be littlest wayne's first word be?

I was thinking of something simple or sweet, but then I got the funniest idea on the planet.

The Littlest Wayne: First Words

You were babbling a lot more lately. Your family all knew it meant you were likely going to say your first words soon, and the fighting over who got to have your attention increased tenfold. It had gotten to the point that your brothers were practically kidnapping you to monopolize your time and attention. Bruce put his foot down and ended that whole charade when it stopped being endearing and became dangerous.

("Really, Damian? Your skill in combat is not in question, it has never been in question, but you cannot bring them on patrol with you on the off-chance they happen to say their first words in the middle of the night!")

So, Bruce takes you to the Watchtower anytime he has a Justice League meeting. It pisses off all of his sons, but he's arguably bringing you to the safest spot in the galaxy. Also, he's your father. It's not kidnapping if you're kidnapping your own child. Okay, it is, it very much still is, but that's not the point.

"Okay, Mouse," he murmurs, easing you onto the floor and handing you a stuffed teddy bear. "The meeting's only an hour, then we're going back home. Dada will take you home."

(Maybe he wants to steer you towards your first word himself. Sue him, he's just a man at the end of the day.)

You take the bear, staring openly at your father. You don't see him often in the Batman suit, so he's very visually appealing at the moment. Bruce allows himself a small smile, gently pinching your cheek, then he steps out of the way when Diana arrives.

"The babyyy!" She whisper-yells, kneeling next to the playpen. "Hello, little one! It's such a treat when Batman brings you around!"

You make some soft, babbling noises. Mostly you're making raspberries. It's a fascinating sound. Diana melts and wipes some drool from your chin.

"Someone's getting close to their first words. My mother said mine was "maim." I remember that conversation fondly..."

Bruce has to remind himself that Diana grew up on an island inhabited by immortal warrior women. "Maim" is a perfectly normal first word for an immortal warrior baby.

The other Leaguers start quickly filing into the meeting room, each of them stopping cheerfully to greet you. It makes something fond bloom in Bruce's chest, and you coo and openly admire all the people with bright, primary colors all over their bodies. You're busy trying to chew on Superman's cape when a glowing, green light enters your periphery, and you drop the fabric in favor of staring at the Green Lantern.

"Oh, bring your kid to work day, huh, Spooks?" Hal actually scoops you up out of the pen and cradles you to his chest, grinning down at you. "Hey, kiddo!"

"Mmmnnn," you mutter intelligently, reaching for his mask. Every time you manage to pop it off, he just wills another one on. You think this is the most entertaining game ever.

"The kids are taking them out into the field, now," Bruce sighs. "They all want to be the one to hear their first word. Which is fine. It's adorable. I love that they love the baby. But the baby does not belong on Gotham's streets in the middle of the night, especially if guns are involved."

"Oh, yeah, that's pretty bad," Hal says, smiling at you. You pop his domino mask off again, squealing when it dissolves in your fingers and another one materializes over his face. "Uncle Hal would never do that to you, would he? No! No he wouldn't! That's very dangerous!"

"Huh...Hal!"

Everyone freezes. Bruce's jaw actually drops.

"No fucking way," Barry blurts across the room.

"Language. There's a whole baby here, Flash," Oliver says, but he's grinning like an idiot.

"Hal!" You chirp again. "Hal!"

Bruce sinks to his knees. Clark looks like he's trying not to laugh. Barry and Oliver are definitely laughing. Diana is pouting over the fact that your first word was so tame and boring. J'onn doesn't understand why your first word is so important when it just means you'll eventually learn to say more.

Hal is nearly trembling with the flood of emotions. His thing with Bruce is very new, and he's been by the Manor often enough that you obviously know him, but he really hadn't anticipated his name being...being...

"The boys are going to kill me."

"Maybe," Bruce admits, still on the floor. "...it couldn't be dada? It couldn't be uppies? Or Mouse, or any of the other words you hear ten thousand times a day? Even Alfred thought you might try his name first."

"I think we're going to need to postpone the start of the meeting," Clark declares, coughing as a way of clearing his throat and definitely not to disguise his amused huffs. "Let's push it back fifteen minutes."

"Hal!" You chirp again, delighted. You finally pulled Green Lantern's mask off and it didn't disappear. You win!

[lunaeclips]

I feel so bad about people who aren’t white and are treated poorly. Me, as a person, have some of the most white ancestors, which means that I am pretty much completely white. (There is something that we found when my papaw and mom took a DNA test and one of our ancestors might be black (don’t think we’ve figured it out yet)) Skin color should not define who we are, yes, it affects the physical characteristics, yes, it affects peoples voices, but who says that you are bad or good based on how your skin looks? Actions speak louder than words, even if those words are loud. Many people, however, seem to be blind to those actions and take the side of the people who only want harm to go to those who are different. I don’t want to put any kind of politics into this, but let’s take Trump for example. He says “Let’s make America great again!”, but when was it great? When was it great for every citizen of America simultaneously? People are blinded by those five words and don’t see the harmful actions he takes. Trump is a rapist, and has been tried for those crimes but never showed up to court. He thinks that because he is rich and famous, he can get away with it and he DOES! Why do people let a man that twisted and vile become president, TWICE! This is a rant now, sorry.

i dont think whites understand how being white makes literally everything easier.

it effects everything.

being trans is easier when youre white.

being gay is easier when youre white.

being disabled is easier when youre white.

being a woman is easier when youre white.

being autistic is easier when youre white.

oppression is eased when you are white, as you get extra privileges, and your whiteness is seen as a positive characteristic that in some ways counter-balances your other forms of being a minority. whiteness controls everything.

you are automatically way more innocent in your own oppression as a gay, trans, disabled person because of your whiteness.

never forget this.

[baocean]

#undercover

chapter thirteen - rip camcorder

masterlist | next chapter

5,042 likes

obsessedwithyn: Gorgeous funny perfect smart charismatic genuine talented beautiful

user: CAPTION

user: she’s perfect

user: i’m so jealous of her she is everything and more

user: a literal angel

yourusername: no don’t stop keep listing my perfect traits

↳ obsessedwithyn: Hot sexy kindness humorous

10,482 likes

yourusername: the monster who broke my camcorder

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popeheyward: 😢😢😢

user: are we gonna ignore how cute they are i want them together

↳ sarahcam: retweet

10,492 likes

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user: me too

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this comment has been deleted

10,385 likes

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↳ cleocooks: yn

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↳ jjmaybank: Cleo gave us one free pass

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[thewistlingbadger]

Analyzing Viktor's eyes:

We've talked about how Jayce is never repulsed or afraid of the major changes to Viktor's body and accepts him instantly whenever he sees something that should not be the way it is when it comes to Viktor's body. What we have YET to talk about is just how Jayce doesn't turn away from Viktor's purple and metal body, he does not turn away from Viktor's steel and muted eyes and I think this is VERY IMPORTANT.

Because in season two Viktor's eyes are somewhat symbolic of his humanity. Viktor's eyes are naturally yellow and are one of the most distinctive elements to his design but after his transfusion with the hexcore they become this empty gray that sometimes changes color. It looks very weird and inhuman and nothing like Viktor. The only time we see Viktor's natural eyes in season two is in the astral plane, where he also maintains his season one hairstyle and features and build. However once Viktor goes full machine herald his eyes are completely gone. His face is split in half and the eyes of his mask contain no pupil or iris. It is only two glowing slits of yellow, both in the astral plane and in the actual world (although in the actual world Viktor's "eyes" actually take on a spherical shape but still it is literally just two glowing spheres of yellow). ADDITIONALLY even though is face is split we can still see it under the mask and we see his eyes are CLOSED. As if he is closed off from his humanity after fully becoming the machine herald or just refuses to look at it or the consequences of his actions.

It is JAYCE who's responsible for the return of Viktor's natural eye color once Viktor has become the machine herald. Viktor's machine herald mask in the astral plane BREAKS because Ekko throws the z drive directly at Viktor's face. We're able to see half of Viktor's real face and half of his mask when Jayce reveals that Viktor was the mage all along. The mask does not fully come off until AFTER Jayce hugs Viktor in the astral plane and Viktor pulls away from the hug. Jayce's hug is why we're now able to see both of Viktor's eyes.

This whole journey with Viktor's eyes and the relationship between him and Jayce is very fascinating to me for several reasons:

Jayce took away Viktor's humanity by fusing the hexcore to him. But Jayce is also the same person that made Viktor realize that humanity was beautiful because of its flaws. He is the one that made Viktor human again, literally. Jayce is the reason why Viktor's eyes change color in the first place AND he is also the one that is responsible for them returning to their original color.

Jayce and Viktor spend a lot of time looking at each other throughout the show but ESPECIALLY in season two. The first thing Jayce does when he's actually reunited with Viktor after their initial separation and Jayce's trip to the bad au is STARE AT VIKTOR. Viktor looks so different and is floating in the air and all Jayce could do was stare at him. The next time they meet after this, Viktor tries to hold Jayce's eye contact in the astral plane but Jayce isn't in the astral plane with him. So instead of seeing Viktor's eyes Jayce just sees the cold face of someone Viktor turned into a machine. Jayce looks Viktor in the eye almost the entirety of their finale in the astral plane. The last thing Jayce and Viktor ever do in the show is look at each other AND they spend their final moments in the show facing each other but WITH THEIR EYES CLOSED!

Eye contact is very important to humans. Eyes in general are just really important to humans. Not only for the practical reason, to see things, but also on an emotional and spiritual level. "The eyes are the window to the soul." You can tell a lot about someone by the way their eyes look and how they look when they look at things. The pupils of our eyes grow and shrink based off what we're looking at and sometimes that dilation is in accordance to how much we like something. You can see in the finale that Jayce and Viktor's pupils are practically blown out they're so big. You can communicate a lot just by using your eyes, without ever saying a single word.

Jayce is never really aghast by Viktor's body no matter how horrific it looks because Jayce cares about Viktor. When he sees him on the brink of death in the council room and sees how his leg is glowing purple, his first thought isn't "what the fuck is wrong with Viktor's leg." His first thought is "I have to save Viktor from dying." When Jayce actually got Viktor to the lab and saw the entity of Viktor's body he wasn't thinking about how inhumane and wrong it looked. He was only thinking about how the hexcore better be able to fix Viktor. When Viktor is stable but unresponsive for several days after the transfusion, Jayce isn't thinking about Viktor's notes on his self experimentation or how Viktor's body had several runes carved into it. He was thinking about whether or not Viktor was okay. Whether or not Viktor was going to ever wake up. When Viktor DOES wake up and is entirely purple and shiny and able to walk without a mobility aid and stand up straight without a brace, his first thought is "what the fuck happened to me and to my body? What have I become am I still human what am I?" And Jayce's first thought to seeing a Viktor of purple, metallic flesh is "holy shit, it worked. It worked, Viktor is alive and awake and back." Towards the end of the show when Jayce sees the machine herald for the first time, he isn't terrified by the fact that Viktor is extremely tall and other worldly looking. He isn't disgusted by Viktor's third arm or distorted voice or lack of a face or his unnaturally slim waist. He doesn't even look phased or bothered at all. Instead, one of the first things he says upon seeing the machine herald is "there must be some part of you that's still in there." After this interaction, after Viktor and him fight and it seems like Viktor is going to take his life away from Jayce, Jayce STILL is adamant on the idea that Viktor, his friend, his partner of several years, is still alive. Jayce fully believes that Viktor is still within the machine herald and he has so much faith that he risks his own life and the lives of everyone else on his belief. As Viktor actually begins to turn Jayce into a machine, Jayce spends his last words telling Viktor about how his humanity is beautiful and how he still believes in Viktor. Jayce's wholehearted care for Viktor is what ends up saving everyone! Jayce sees Viktor's body go through horrific transformations throughout the season and it doesn't impact the way he views Viktor in the slightest. He saw the way Viktor's body looked and never asked a single question about it and never asked questions about Viktor's notes on self experimentation. So of course he's not phased by Viktor's eyes being a different color. Jayce is able to see Viktor's humanity even when Viktor doesn't look or act like a human.

But arguably the reason why I find this so fascinating, why I'm so intrigued that Jayce has no concern for the fact that Viktor's eyes are no longer yellow is because Viktor's eyes are arguably Viktor's most important feature TO JAYCE. Viktor's eyes and their color and their intensity is something that Jayce canonically has taken notice of and has found importance in. In the finale montage, we see a shot of Viktor from Jayce's perspective on the night they met. The shot is the exact shot used in the beginning of the show. When you compare the two shots, the one from act 1 s1 and the one from act 3 S2, they are IDENTICAL WITH ONLY ONE MAJOR EXCEPTION. VIKTOR'S EYES. Viktor's eyes in the shot used in the finale are MORE yellow, MORE intense, and more distinct than they were in the original shot at the start of the show. This shot is from Jayce's perspective, so it's showing us how Jayce perceived and remembered Viktor to be. This detail is the reason I even wanted to write this post. Viktor's eyes are clearly an aspect that Jayce pays attention to and yet he didn't utter a single word when he saw that they were completely different.

[ikkyfics]

Colors That Speak

Remus Lupin x f!reader

Summary: “Now it’s my turn.” “What?” You look up, surprised, but he’s already grabbing a blue pen from the table. “It’s not fair if I can’t return the favor.” His tone is mischievous, but the expression in his eyes is so gentle that you can only nod in agreement. When he begins to draw on your arm, something shifts. His touch is gentle, his fingers holding your wrist with a tenderness that makes your heart stumble. He starts with a small star, the line hesitant, but to you, it feels like art.

Warnings: fluffy

A/N: I needed to do something stupidly cute

Masterlist

It’s a lazy afternoon at Hogwarts, the kind where the sun hides behind soft clouds, and the air seems to beg for calm moments. You’re sitting in a quiet corner of the library, your colored pens carefully arranged on the table. Your Muggle aunt’s gift has become your little treasure, and you run your fingers over them with a satisfied smile.

“You really like those pens, don’t you?” Remus is sitting next to you, his voice carrying a lightness that always warms your heart. He gives a sideways smile, his brown eyes watching the scene with an amused gleam.

“I love them,” you admit, holding a pink pen between your fingers. “My aunt gave them to me last Christmas. These things are magical, even without real magic. I love stuff like this.” You feel your cheeks heat up as you realize you’re talking more than you should.

Remus rests his chin on his hand, watching you with a look that seems a little dreamy. “I think that’s... very you. Little, simple things that make your eyes sparkle.”

You lower your gaze, trying to hold back the smile tugging at the corner of your lips. There’s something between you two. Something soft, like the wind passing through leaves, but always present. You feel it in the little things: the way he always sits close to you, the conversations that flow with a comforting ease. And maybe, just maybe, you want it to be more.

Without thinking much, you twirl the pen between your fingers. “Can I try it on you?” The words come out quickly, and you regret them almost instantly, your heart racing.

“Try it on me?” He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused, but there’s no trace of rejection.

“Yeah. I mean... just a doodle. On the arm. Nothing serious.” You’re nervous now, but try to keep your tone casual. He chuckles softly, and the idea that he’s finding you amusing only makes your cheeks burn more.

“Alright. Go ahead.” He extends his arm, the sleeve of his sweater slipping up slightly to reveal his pale forearm, marked with subtle scars that you know well.

Carefully, you draw a cute bow with the pink pen. He watches each of your movements, which only increases your insecurity.

“It’s not that bad,” he comments, a playful smile on his lips. “Now it’s my turn.”

“What?” You look up, surprised, but he’s already grabbing a blue pen from the table.

“It’s not fair if I can’t return the favor.” His tone is mischievous, but the expression in his eyes is so gentle that you can only nod in agreement.

When he begins to draw on your arm, something shifts. His touch is gentle, his fingers holding your wrist with a tenderness that makes your heart stumble. He starts with a small star, the line hesitant, but to you, it feels like art.

“It’s looking nice,” you say, trying to sound casual, but your voice comes out soft. He laughs again, that sound like a ray of sunshine on a cold day.

“Not as nice as yours,” he replies, without looking up.

The world seems to shrink until it’s just the two of you, your arms marked with childish, colorful drawings. When it’s your turn again, you decide to take a risk. With a nervous smile, you sketch a small heart right on his wrist. The red ink seems vibrant against his skin.

Remus looks at the drawing, his honey-brown eyes lingering just a little longer than necessary. When he finally looks up at you, there’s something there. Something that makes your stomach flip with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

“A heart, huh?” He gives a sideways smile, and you realize you’re holding your breath.

“It’s just... I thought it would be cute,” you murmur, looking at the pens on the table as if they’ll save you.

He holds your wrist firmly, but still with the same gentleness that makes your chest tighten. “Well, I guess I have to return the favor now, right?”

The words seem to echo in the small space between you, and you feel the warmth of his touch spreading through your body. Remus is close enough for you to notice the little details—the way his eyes sparkle under the soft library light, the slight crinkle at the end of his sweater sleeve, and how the corner of his mouth curves into a restrained smile.

He holds your wrist carefully, his fingers firm yet gentle, as if you were something precious he’s afraid to hurt. Time seems to slow down as he looks at the colorful drawings you made on his arm—the red heart right above his wrist—and you almost feel the light tension in the air, that which is always present when you’re alone together.

Before you can say anything, he tilts his head slightly, taking your arm with him. He moves his thumb lightly over your skin, almost as if he’s considering something, and then, without warning, he leans in and plants a soft kiss right on your wrist.

It’s a brief touch, but the feeling lingers. The warmth of his lips seems to spread through your skin like an electric current, and you freeze, feeling your heart race so fast it echoes in your ears. Your breath catches, and you’re sure your face is completely flushed.

When he lifts his eyes to meet yours again, there’s something different in his gaze. A quiet intensity that makes your stomach flip, as if every thought you tried to suppress is now laid bare in the soft glow of his eyes.

“Reciprocated,” he murmurs, his voice low and almost husky, as if it’s a secret shared only between the two of you.

You try to say something, but the words seem stuck in your throat. Your fingers tremble slightly. It’s almost funny how something so simple—so innocent—can carry so much weight. You feel his eyes on you, watching every movement, every breath.

“Are you okay?” he asks, a hint of concern in his voice, but his smile stays—shy and genuine. “Your heart is beating so fast, I think I can hear it.”

"I-I'm fine!" you reply too quickly, almost choking on the words. His soft laugh is like music, and you feel ridiculously happy that you made him smile.

He slowly lets go of your arm, but you almost wish he wouldn't. Still, the spot where he kissed seems to burn, as though his touch has marked you in a way no marker ever could.

"I didn't know you were so talented with markers," he comments, looking back at the drawings you made on each other, clearly trying to ease the tension hanging in the air.

"Neither did I know you had talent for this," you respond, your voice a little more confident this time, though your heart is still running a marathon.

He tilts his head, feigning a thoughtful expression. "I think you bring out a side of me I didn't even know existed."

It's something simple, but the way he says it makes you feel a different kind of warmth. There's something so genuine about Remus that it sometimes feels overwhelming. He doesn’t need grand gestures to make you feel special; it’s the little things – the way he holds your gaze a second longer, the careful tone in his voice, the smile that always seems reserved just for you.

Silence falls between you again, but this time, it isn’t uncomfortable. It's a kind of silence filled with unspoken things, but understood. You grab another marker and start drawing a simple butterfly on his forearm, each stroke trying to hide how much your hand is shaking.

"A butterfly?" he asks, watching as you work.

"They're cute," you murmur, not looking up.

He chuckles lightly but doesn’t respond. When you finish, he looks at the drawing with a sweet smile that makes your chest tighten. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he grabs a new marker and begins to draw something on your arm. You watch in silence, feeling every movement of the marker’s tip on your skin, but what really takes your breath away is the touch of his fingers, firm yet delicate, igniting every part of you.

He works with concentration, his forehead slightly furrowed, his tongue almost slipping out from his lips as he draws careful lines on your forearm. Every move seems deliberate, like he’s drawing something that truly matters.

"Can I ask what it is?" you dare, your voice soft, almost fearing to break the moment.

"No," he answers with a mischievous smile. "Not yet."

The air between you is light, but there's something more there, something you can’t name. When he finally pulls back, you look down at what he made.

It’s a sun. Simple and delicate, but full of details that show how much care he put into it. The rays seem to stretch in every direction, made in shades of yellow and orange you didn’t even know were in the set of markers. The center is filled with a soft touch of gold that almost shines under the light.

"A sun?" you ask, your voice almost cracking.

"A sun," he confirms, his eyes locked on yours, and there's something in his tone – something that makes your heart beat faster.

"Why?" you ask, the heat rising in your face before he even answers.

"Because that’s what you are," he says, as natural as breathing. "The way you light up everything around you, even when you don’t realize it. It’s hard not to notice."

Your breath stops for a moment. His words fall on you with an unexpected weight, but not in a bad way. It’s more like a warm blanket on a cold night, something that wraps around you and makes you feel safe.

You try to say something, but all you can do is stare at the drawing and the reflection of his words in your mind. The sun. He thinks you’re a sun.

Remus slowly lets go of your arm, as though hesitating to break the contact, but the warmth of his touch lingers. He grabs another marker and, in an unexpected move, extends his hand to you.

"Now it's your turn," he says, his voice soft but full of expectation.

"My turn?" you ask, surprise clearly showing on your face.

"Yeah," he replies, rolling up the sleeve of his shirt to his elbow. "You drew a heart, but... I think it deserves more space, don’t you think?"

The suggestion is so simple and so Remus that you almost laugh. But the idea of drawing something on him makes your heart race again, a mixture of nervousness and excitement. With a slightly trembling hand, you pick a lilac marker.

His eyes are fixed on you as you begin to trace lines on his forearm, the marker gliding over his skin. Despite trying to stay focused on the drawing, you can’t help but notice the details of him – the texture of his skin beneath the marker’s tip, the small freckles that look like a starry map, and how still he is, almost contained, as if this moment is too important to interrupt.

When you’re done, you pull back and look at what you made. It’s a small, delicate lilac flower, with petals curving outward as if opening towards the sun he drew on you.

Remus lowers his gaze to the drawing, a soft smile forming on his lips. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just traces the outline of the flower with his finger, as if he’s committing it to memory.

"You don’t need to say anything," you murmur, feeling the warmth rise in your face.

"No," he finally says, his voice so soft it’s almost a whisper. "But I think I need to."

You raise your eyes to meet his, and what you see on his face makes your heart stop for an instant. There’s something there – something you can’t put into words, but that makes your breathing slow, the world around you fading away.

"It’s beautiful," he continues, his gaze fixed on the drawing. "And... I think it’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever given me."

The simplicity in his voice disarms you completely. You try to respond, but the words don’t come. Instead, you just smile shyly as he extends his arm, placing the lilac flower beside the sun on your forearm.

"The colors match," he says, a touch of humor in his voice, but there’s something more behind it – something that makes you realize he’s not just talking about the colors.

"Yeah, they do," you agree, your voice almost failing.

The silence between you is filled with something that doesn’t need to be said. He looks at you again, and there’s a glimmer in his eyes that makes you wonder if he feels the same way you do.

When he finally breaks the eye contact, you think the moment is over, but then he speaks, softly:

"I think they’ve always matched."

Your heart skips a beat, but before you can respond, Remus asks, "Can I draw more someday?" The tone almost hesitant, as if the idea of not having another chance is too much to bear.

You smile, feeling your heart melt. "Only if I can draw on you too."

He laughs, and the sound is so genuine that you feel like you can hear happiness in it. "Deal."

[cheezewhis]

I'm going to regret this.

Sometimes the iwtv fandom makes me worry about the future of diversity in media. I mean I expect the racist assholes to pop up and bother everyone. That happens all the time and while it sucks, there are ways to filter those people out.

My big worry is honestly on the other end, where people are so desperate for harmony they end up treating minorities like monoliths of purity. Seriously, we have a show with morally grey characters of a variety of colors, a color conscious writing team, actors who constantly discuss the nuances of their characters, and people still find a reason to fight about this. Wasn't this the ideal we were asking for???

How are we supposed to evolve the representation in media if we can't go 2 seconds without fighting about which characters you're "allowed" to like?

You can't like Lestat because then you're condoning his behavior, but you can't condem anything Louis does cause then you're racist, but also you can't like Louis more than Armand because Louis was a pimp, but also you can't like Armand because he killed Claudia, but also that was all Lestat's fault and Armand did nothing wrong and if you don't ship Loumand it's because you're racist and if you do ship Loumand it's because you just hate Lestat and Anne Rice and puppies??? or something, and Clauida is the only character you're actually allowed to like except you are not allowed to like her unless you hate Lestat or Louis because as we've established it's really Lestat's fault she died and also Louis was a bad father and is responsible for Clauida's death so you cant like him either but also you are racist for thinking Louis did something wrong because black characters are not allowed to make mistakes or be nuanced or be human but also you don't get nuance if you like 1x05, you have to hate 1x05 because that episode of the toxic abusive vampire show dared to show toxic abusive vampires and ruined your precious precious perception of Lestat but also if you still like Lestat after that then you must hate Louis because Louis is 5 fucking years old and needs to be coddled but also he's a piece of shit and you cant like him and idk i don't really hear people argue about Daniel but maybe I'm just not looking hard enough and who ever cares cause I lost the plot about 100 fucking words ago.

Like jesus fuck we'll never weed out the racist people in the fandom cause we're too fucking busy fighting each other about, like, if we should let black characters be nuanced and interact with white characters who are mean??? Istg half this fandom thinks Louis (and Jacob Anderson for that matter) is like a battered helpless child who has never been able to stand up for himself. Louis is a character built from very real pain, he's always going to be kind of sad by virtue of that, but he's not 5, he can make decisions for himself.

How the fuck are we supposed to normalize diversity in media if we can't be fucking normal about diversity in media.

Fuck. Everything. And. Everyone.

[sixtsposts]

Bully bullied - James Potter

TW: female!reader, cursing, threatening bullying, Snevillus, Mulciber, harrassment, angry James, reader, physical bullying, kinda bully!James, bully!Severus and bully!Mulciber, mention of Mary's assault, choking, use of pet names (pretty, darling)

You were walking down the hallway of Hogwarts, your books in your arms as your steps echos in the empty hallway. You put a strand of your hair behind your ear, internally cursing yourself for being late for class once again. But what can you say? You're not an early bird at all.

You sigh through your nose and start to walk faster, hoping the classroom won't be closed. Maybe you'll be able to sneak in without Professor Slughorn seeing you? At least it's not McGonagall, because she would have change you into a timepiece or an alarm clock-

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear students chanting something in the hallway opposite to your direction. When your curiosity push you to glance toward the noises you realize there's a crowd assembled around something. You decide without an hesitation that good old Horace could wait a little bit, you wanted to know what was going on.

"Snevillus, Snevillus, Snevillus!" The students chant as you approach and sneak into the crowd of students, it doesn't take long for you to understand the scene in front of your eyes. The Marauders have once again pulled a prank, on no one alse but Severus Snape. The Slytherin boy was glaring deathly at Sirius Black and James Potter, his hair turned completly green.

"What's the matter buddy? Don't like your house color?" Sirius tease his ennemy with a smirk as he rest an arm around Remus Lupin's shoulders. James behind them huffed a laugh, "Yeah, we can see that you're very committed to your house, Snevillus," he snorted with a mocking tone and bump Peter Pettigrew in the shoulder, making him giggle too.

You can't help yourself when you let out a laugh, putting your hand in front of your mouth. You're not at all supporting the four guys' pranks, that's bullying. However, to be fair you need to admit that Snape is an awful person. You think he's loathsome at every point from what you've experienced.

And the Marauders looks, although, nice. They're in the year above yours and have always been nice to you and all the person you know. You know them from Pandora, Alice and Frank, you are not the closest but you hang out a bit. So you would rather not take part in the matter.

Though, it seems like you did the moment you let out a laugh because Severus glared at you, his dark eyes sending dread shiver down your spine. You shake the feeling and push yourself against the nearest wall, trying to make yourself small. You probably imagine him looking at you, he was surely looking at someone behind you. Right?

Few seconds later the four Griffindor friends decided to left the place before getting caught by one of the prefects. They make their way into the crowd of cheering students - mostly Griffindors. As they pass just next to you, James sends a wink at you above his glasses, his bright and confident smile making your heart beat faster. You probably imagined that too, he was surely winking at the... wall behind you. Right?

You shake all these thoughts out of your head. As the crowd slowly fades around you, the fact that you are late for class hits you again. And now you are, like, really late. You press your books to your chest tightly and start to run as fast as you can to your class. As you enter the classroom, the class has already started and you got lectured by Slughorn. Great.

Thankfully the rest of the day happens without any further incidents. You goes to every class and try to concentrate as much as you can. But it's hard since your mind always go back to what happened this morning, how James had winked at you with his sparkling brown eyes. But also, how Snape had glare at you with this threatening expression. You're still tense when you think of it, you feel bad for laughing too. You shouldn't have done that.

Luckily, you're not in class with any of James or Snape given you're in 6th year and they are in 7th. As the school bells rings, meaning the end of the day, you grab your notebooks and start to head toward the Great Hall. You walk quikly, the hunger being audible in your stomach.

Though, one of your book fall on the floor in your rush. "Shit," you curse silently and crouch down to pick it up. When you stand up again, there's no student left in the hallway. They're all in the Great Hall and you were about to join them when a voice stops you in your track.

"Fucking damn mudbloods," a dark voice spits with venom. You turn around to recognizing Snape with one of his friends Bruce Mulciber. Ew. Severus' hair got back to normal, you notice. Probably thanks to Mulciber. If there is one person you hate more than Severus it is for sure Bruce. You don't quite know why but some creepy aura float around this guy. You tighten your grip on your books instinctively.

"It's always you, huh?" You frown at Snape's words. What was he talking about? "Listen Severus, if you're angry because of this morning, I'm really sorry I laughed-" but he doesn't let you finish as he approach you quikly, this frightening look back in his dark eyes. "You're sorry? Oh, she's sorry," he mock you as he glances at Mulciber behind him, who laughs and stare at you.

"What d'you want Snape?" You ask defensively as you take steps back from him. You don't want to stay close to him, he is slightly scaring you. "Oh look at her Sev, she's shaking like a leaf," you hear Mulciber's deep mocking voice in your back, it makes you jump and releasing all your books, that falls on the floor loudly. How did he moved so fast? you wonder as you look between Severus in front of you and Bruce in your back. They circle you and you feel like a prey around starving lions.

"Mudbloods, always so scared and defenseless," Severus smirks meanly and his wicked words makes you nauseous. You frown at him, wondering if you should stand your ground or shut your mouth. Both are risked right now. Though, you don't have further time to think about it when you feel a cold and strong hand wrapping itself tightly around your throat. Your eyes widen as you realize Snape is trying to actually choke you. "You think you can laugh at me..." his grip is brutal and his eyes show no mercy.

"And get out of it safe?" You struggle in his grip, your hands holding tightly into his forearm as he slightly lift you off the ground. You can feel your face turn red from the lack of air, making it impossible for you to scream. You can hear Bruce's laugh in your back, his tone arrogant and merciless, you can feel them enjoy the show you're putting on.

"You little bitch, you're gonna pay for your four friends," you feel quikly tears prickling into your eyes because of the fear and pain his hold on your throat is causing you. Your hands are gripping at his forearm harshly, your nails scratching his skin. Though he doesn't react, like he didn't even notice your action. His dark eyes are locked on yours and you can see in them all the weight of his hatred, the humiliation of this morning fueling the fire in his heart.

As you almost thought that he was going to kill, now and there, Mulciber's body is suddenly propelled against the nearest wall. This catch Snape's attention, his eyes roaming over the dark hallway in search of the coming threat. Then, as his gaze locked on something behind you, his eyes widen and you can notice fear in them. However, before he can say anything, his own body is quikly projected against the wall next to both of you.

Though, he doesn't let go of you and brings you in his movement, making your head hit harshly the cold stone of Hogwarts' walls. You gasp because of the shoke and fall back on your bottom, wincing slightly at the sound of Severus body falling brutally on the floor at few feet away from you.

Your hand goes immediatly to your head where it hitted the wall, inspecting if everything was fine while your eyes scan the hallway to find who's here with you. You don't take long to recognize the familiar dark messy hair and round glasses when James ran to you, a worried expression on his features. "You okay?" He asks quikly and kneeled down next to you, "I didn't mean to hit you, darling," he explains with a frown on his face as his hands analyse your head.

"James?," you ask confuse but a little breathless. A wave of relief hit you as you realize James just saved you from a very shitty position. "I noticed you weren't in the Great Hall and I- I had a bad feeling," he explains as his hands goes to your cheek and he examine your face for any bruise, "Guess my guts were right.

That makes you chuckle softly, but your laugh quikly turns into a loud and hoarse caught. At this action, James' eyes goes down to your throat. You can see his brown eyes turning dark and you immediately understand that you must have a bruise on your neck. Instinctively, your hand goes to your throat and touch it softly.

"I'm gonna kill them," he mutters slightly, his jaw clearly clenched. You frown, concerned as he gets up, you've never seen him like that. You don't know him that well, but you do know for sure that James is not one to return match. Except on the Quidditch field. "You're not like them James," you try to resonate him with a genuine tone.

James look back down at your frail form on the cold floor, "How could someone want to hurt you?" He mumbles and it seems like he's asking the question to himself. You don't reply anything before Snape shifts on the floor. Yours and James' eyes turns directly to him as he weakly gets up.

"You," without thinking twice you see James throw himself at Severus, grabbing his collar harshly and pinning him against the wall next to you. You don't do any movement to stop what is happening as you stay still on the floor and look up at the scene. "This mugblood bitch mocked me, she deserved it," spit Severus without even looking down at you.

"You're lucky I don't kill you tonight Snevillus, you tacky piss of shit," he mutters lowly, his face close to the other boy like he was spitting venom. Behind his glasses there is fire in James' eyes, a fire you didn't know he had in him. Apprently, Snape didn't knew either since all the color have been drained from his face.

"Of course you'd have helped her," he mumbles, more like a realization then an accusation. "Of course," James hemphasize with a scoff his tone, "If you got a problem, next time come and attack those responsible, coward," he adds, pushing him more against the wall.

"If she crosses our way again, be sure this time we won't miss her," you hear a third voice, it's strained and heavy. It's Mulciber. James immediately let Snape sore body fall on the floor and turn to Bruce. "Levicorpus," and with a quick motion of his wand, Mulciber's body starts to fly above the floor as he gasps in distress.

"Say that again," James' voice is cold but you can hear a smirk in it as he make his way toward Bruce's flying figure. "Say that again to my face," he snaps now with anger and from your spot on the floor your can see James' face close to Mulcibers. Suddenly the tension in this dark and empty hallway feels thicker.

You can hear Mulciber struggling in James' spell, "If this little bitch of yours crosses our way again she'll regret it," he spits then, his voice is full of venom and hatred. James let out what sounds like a low curse under his breath. Quikly, his wand in under Burce's chin in a threatening way. James is a good wizard, not as good as Lily Evans, but good enough that he could hurt Mulciber and Snape really bad if he wanted to.

You just hope he doesn't want to.

Before James have the time to respond anything Mulciber adds something. "By the way, how is your little friend Mary?" Mulciber's voice is amused and teasing and beside you you can hear Snape snarking. And it's the last straw for James. The Griffondor lift his wand and all can you see is a white lightening before you see Mulciber's body on the floor few feet away.

There is no sound for few seconds before you break the silence, "S'he dead?" You ask with a little voice. James turns to you a little with a little frown on his face, "No," he mutters as he shoulders relax slightly, "Even if he'd have deserved it," he adds.

He turns to Snape after that, walking to him and grabbing his collar brutally, "I got a message for you and your little boyfriend: if you or him touches ever again one of my friend you can be sure you'll be hunted by more than just me. Am I clear enough for your shit brain?" He says darkly and all the Slytherin boy can do is nodding. James just let go of his collar, letting him fall back down on the floor.

Then he walks up to you, putting his wand back in his pocket. He gather your books before gently helping you up, one of his arms wrapped around your waist and his other hand holding your stuff.

"You okay?" He mumbles softly worriedly, his face close to yours and all you can do is staring in his blue eyes and nodding like an idiot. There is just too much that has been going on that you don't know what to do or say anymore, except "Thank you James."

The boy chuckles softly at your expression before his lips form a soft and warm smile, "You're welcome, pretty," he replies and your little smile turn a bit shy. That makes James giggle again as he begans to lead you down the hall, "C'mon, we should head back to the Great Hall. You must be hungry, huh?" He says as if nothing had happened and you are grateful to him for that. "A little yeah..."

[shegatsby]

Hey,

may I request a Hannibal soulmate au one-shot, where he has to touch his soulmate in order to see the world in colour. One day at the FBI headquaters Jack invites an FBI agent and friend from another state, to help with the case. While she‘s walking towards Jack she accidentaly brushes Hannibal and their world explodes in colour? After that he goes all out courting her

A/N Hi! Kept you waiting I knowww but I was going through a shitty break up. He did me dirty and he has to pay. Anyways enjoy! Love you all, im gonna be more consistent i promise.

Y/N got a ticket to Baltimore Maryland in a rush because her long time friend, the head of the FBI’s Maryland branch had requested her insights and expertise on the matter. There was a killer on the loose and he had already taken 3 lives. Jack wasn’t a man who usually would ask for help so if it came to that it means that the situation was getting out of control and it also means that if they can’t solve it soon the citizens of Maryland would protest, it would look bad on the FBI. She was thinking about these things as she was gazing around, she was used to seeing things in black and white, that’s what she was born with anyways so she wasn’t complaining. She had a can drive her to her hotel which FBI provided. After freshening up she decided to get few cups of coffee to make a good impression. There was a possibility that she might spend weeks with them. She remembered a café shop she used to go to so she called another cab and gave the address.

The café was the same which gave her comfort, she ordered 5 cups and as she was waiting she looked around her, couples drinking coffee together and eating dessert, if only she could see them in colors… over the years she had relationships but none of them were her soulmate of course they were nice but just nice nothing more. She was losing hope inside, maybe her soulmate had died before she could meet him, deep down she envied people who were in a soulmate bond, of course she had married friends and she could see that they were sorry for her which made her hate and detest this shoulmate bond, she found it useless and a myth. It had been years she stopped searching and she was having casual hook ups, just to satisfy her needs.  

‘’Thank you.’’ She smiled kindly to the barista and got the cup carrier and left the place, thankfully the driver waited for her to take her to the FBI quarters.

As she entered the building she was greeted by Alana Bloom, she had met Alana years ago and they never lost contact, ‘’I feel sorry to meet in such circumstances Y/N, but I’m glad you’re here.’’ She looked so professional every time Y/N saw her and it amazed her, Alana was a kind of woman who was always put together, professional and formal. Y/N just smiled and nodded at her comment, ‘’Here, I brought coffee.’’ Alana got one of the cups and drank as they got on the elevator, ‘’Hmm delicious.’’ They were making small conversation as the elevator door opened to Jack’s floor. ‘’How is he?’’ Y/N asked before entering the room, ‘’Pissed off.’’ She simply put it, just as Y/N thought. Alana opened the door to Jack’s office, he was placed on his black chair, in a suit. He had his colleagues he had mentioned in the email, Will Graham and Doctor Hannibal Lecter. They both stood up as they saw Elena and Y/N, ‘’Hi guys.’’ She greeted them, ‘’I brought coffee.’’

The one with the glasses she assumed Will huffed, ‘’I needed that.’’ And got his cup, extended one to  Jack, Doctor Lecter was a bit standing far so Y/N approached, ‘’Here you go.’’ She extended the cup, ‘’Thank you so much Ms. Y/L/N, I am Doctor Hannibal Lecter. It is a pleasure finally meeting you in flesh.’’ His smile was small, she noticed how formal he was and how dominant. As he raised his hand to get the cup from her their fingers lightly brushed and with that Y/N noticed the color of his eyes, deep maroon, and his brown suit, her eyes went wide in that moment, she felt something warm on her stomach, how was this possible? She could see colors after years of seeing everything and everyone black and white. That tiny moment felt like it lasted for eternity, they all heard Jack’s cough and turned to him, ‘’Thank you so much for coming Y/N, we appreciate you made time for us. Please take a seat.’’ At Jack’s kind words she was only able to nod and sit next to Doctor Lecter, the man who made her see colors. It was all so strange to her, did he experience the same thing or he could already see because his soulmate was someone else? It wasn’t easy to  read his face because he was good at putting on a mask, especially at work.

Jack Crawford gave everyone some files which consisted of pictures, addresses and analytics of medical examining of the victims. He then went on, explaining the whole situation but Y/N’s mind was somewhere else, this was the first time she couldn’t focus on her job which she loved.

The meeting lasted for 45 minutes, however for Hannibal it felt like a thousand years had past him by, he was startled by the sudden exchange of colors between him and Y/N, he wondered if she also experienced the same thing. During the meeting he had opportunity of observing her up close, thanks to his knowledge of the case he could just ignore Jack and completely deduce this young woman. She was wearing black pants, black high heels and a dark red turtle neck, she had light make up on, her hair was tied in an elegant way, she was sitting straight, her posture was one of the things he had noticed, he was a licensed psychiatrist so he could make a profile when he wanted to. She was definitely an independent woman who had to deal with a lot of things alone and yet she also had a certain femininity to her.

‘’Thank you for your time, you can contact me or any of my staff if you have any questions.’’ Jack’s last words were heard by everyone.

Hannibal Lecter was a man of calculation and then action, somehow he had to figure out if she had the same experience, ‘’Miss Y/N?’’ he found himself call out for her as she was about to leave, ‘’Yes doctor?’’ Y/N wanted to keep it professional, other members turned to them when they say them communicate, ‘’May we speak in private?’’ to his request she only nodded and walked up to him on the corridor, ‘’Tonight I am hosting a dinner party. Maybe Jack had mentioned before, I would love for you to join us.’’

She knew his dinner parties, they were famous. ‘’I would love to.’’ She responded in a calm and kindly manner, ‘’May I have your phone number so that I can send you my home address?’’ he asked, testing the waters. ‘’Of course.’’ And they exchanged numbers, ‘’See you tonight.’’ She smiled and turned to leave, Hannibal found himself watching her leave with a strange feeling hammering on his chest, it felt like a warm liquid.

It was 8.10, most of his guests arrived but his maroon eyes were searching for a particular dove, she reminded him of a pure white dove, elegant yet fragile. ‘’Looking for someone?’’ his fellow colleague Dr. Frederick Chilton snapped Hannibal from his thoughts, ‘’Frederick, thank you for coming.’’ And they started to make small talk when he saw her.

She walked in holding her head high, a tight black dress surrounding her divine body, her red lips made him bit his bottom lip.

‘’Excuse me Frederick.’’ He said without even looking at him and his legs moved to her, ‘’Good evening.’’ He announced himself, ‘’Hello doctor.’’ She smiled warmly and he felt the same thing on his chest again, ‘’Excuse me but I have to say, you look ravishing on that dress.’’ And he saw the pink blush covering her cheeks, ‘’Thank you.’’ She looked at him up and down, noticing his three piece expensive suit. ‘’You don’t look so bad.’’ She replied which earned her a wide smile from him, ‘’Please, join us.’’ He guided her, his hand on the small of her back.

He gracefully introduced her to his colleagues, together they ate and drank, she liked the sparkling conversations she had, she found herself wanting to join more of his dinner parties. She had time to observe him in his home, being a host and she like dhow assertive and dominant he was. He was in control of everything and did it so calmly that she wanted to spend more time with him. Now that she could see the colors, tonight was something special for her not knowing he felt the same way.

When the guests left Y/N found herself being the only one who is sitting next to her and drinking an old wine, having a conversation of art and literature. They didn’t have the same taste because Hannibal loved baroque she admired impressionism but they could see from each others’ point of view. His hand was on her knee as they laughed together and she could feel her stomach turning in an exciting way, ‘’Oh, I do apologies, I wouldn’t want to cross the line.’’ He pulled his hand back but Y/N did something she shocked herself… she held his hand and placed it back on her knee. Hannibal, in that moment he knew that she had the same feelings towards him.

‘’Be careful, once I hold.. I won’t let go.’’ Hannibal said with a dark tone, ‘’What if I don’t want you to let go.’’ She replied back. Looking under her eyes. He smiled wickedly and leaned in to give her a kiss.

Thank you for reading. :)

[poisonouswonderland]

Canine!Reader x Octanville Dorm

Azul Ashengrotto ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Truly? He didn’t expect to be as fond of you as he was. You were silly, clumsy and loud.. simultaneously, you were joyful and reminded him to see the bright side. You made him laugh and smile so often his cheeks hurt. You accepted and adored him as he was which he couldn’t be more (silently) grateful for

• You compliment him at every turn— your stream of consciousness was constantly pouring out of your mouth! Which didn’t bother him as much as it made him blush

“Hi! I missed you.” You blurt out as if it’s the easiest thing in the world, tail wagging in excitement just from seeing him.

“I—” He has to blink away the surprise and force his voice to cooperate instead of crack, “Yes, I-I’m happy to see you as well.”

• Azul needs a while to get accustomed to your physical affection. You’d pounce on him and pepper his face in kisses in the courtyard if he’d let you, but he prefers to keep PDA to a minimum. He can see (and appreciates) how you try not to hound him for hugs, cuddles and kisses. You’ll bounce on your heels, tail going berserk as you wait for him to hug you or pet the top of your head

• He wants to reward your devotion and loyalty, it means a great deal to him.. you help him realize that’s just being in a relationship.

“All I want is you, my silly fish!”

“Not a fish, silly pup.” Azul corrects gently, his thumb mindlessly stroking your soft ear.

“Silly cephalopod doesn’t roll off the tongue, though.”

“I don’t have to be a silly anything.” He offered, turning his head to look at you when his nose met yours. Your smile was too wide, eyes too bright and heart too full.

“Fine, but you have to be mine!”

• Fond didn’t begin to cover it, now. He loved you.

Floyd Leech ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Y’know he was actually worried he’d be bored of you one day? Or worse, if took one of his bad moods out on you and lost you because of it. He’d never thought about something like that before. And he made it your problem

“Oi, shrimpy, you know I care about you, right? You think I’m nice to you, right?” Floyd asks as he’s— carefully— pulling on your ears.

“Ah! You’re such a bully, you’re lucky I love you!”

A perfect answer if he’s ever heard one.

• He knows he could stand to be kinder to you, though. You deal with endless antics, pet names, jokes, puns and, of course, squeezes. He doesn’t mean to be so rough with you, like when he pets you too hard or pulls your tail to make you mad. At least you give as good as you get, tackling him and matching his playful moods

• You’re painfully patient yet honest with him, on par with Jade! Like with his tweel, he doesn’t acknowledge it but that doesn’t mean it goes unnoticed. You’re silently added to the very short list of people he trusts

• Floyd loves how you somehow always bring an adventure to his day. You heard a rumor there’s buried treasure in Heartslabyul’s rose garden? Riddle won’t mind if the two of you check that out!

• Yeah, he lets you think you’re his guard dog but, in actuality, he’s fiercely protective of you. He recalls the evening that he nearly got expelled because someone hurt your feelings. His temper spikes at the memory of your face, and how hard you tried to hide the mark the comments left.

“Didn’t know they let dogs in here.” A patron of the lounge snickered.

“Hopefully Ashengrotto can get the smell out.”

Your ears drooped, though. It was as if the cafe went silent so he could hear the heartbreaking, tell tale sniff before you got up to leave. Floyd’s usual sharp smile dropped, his bi-colored eyes moving to your offenders with a dangerous glare… He doesn’t remember much else after that.

No one was rude to you again, though, so how bad could it have been!?

• You changed how he felt about mornings, too. He used to be the worst to wake up, losing quite a few alarm clocks to his bad mood. It’s impossible to wake up grumpy when you he feels the gentle thump thump thump of your tail against the mattress, telling him that you’re awake and simply happy to be next to him. Floyd ends up pulling you closer to hide his growing smile from you

Jade Leech ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• It may not have looked like it but under his aloof demeanor, he was ecstatic to have a new member for his club. You loved being outdoors, loved being with him! You were enthusiastic about his interest in flora, specifically mushrooms, and would ask every question under the sun if only because his eyes lit up when you did

• He checks you for ticks after hiking

• Jade inadvertently compares you to his terrariums. As your boyfriend he assumes that it’s his responsibility to look after your well being. He does it for his brother after all. However, while care of Floyd is a chore he’s happy to do, taking care of you is a choice that makes him happy. He keeps snacks for you on his person, fixes your uniform when it’s crooked and if you’re not feeling well he’s the one checking your temperature

• You do things that remind him you’re very much not a terrarium, though. Like jumping in his lap during a study date for a kiss or bolting away from his side when Ruggie steals your backpack (in good fun you assured him, luckily for the beast) or bringing him random gifts merely because you thought of him when you saw it

“What’s… this?” Jade’s smile widens in confusion. You’re a continuously curious creature that delightfully confounds him at every turn. He longs to understand you, though it seems he never will.

“A survival pack! Look this bracelet—“ You’re grabbing his hand and clicking the chunky cord into place around his wrist, “—can hold 550 pounds, so if you needed to, I don’t know, lower yourself off’a mountain; you could!” You were out of breath from explaining everything as you took them out of the box.

“Why would I... Where did you acquire such thoughtful items, dearest?”

“Someone over there was selling them.” You mumbled quickly, rummaging around until you found something that brought back your excitement, “and and and they said if I bought everything they’d gimme stickers! Look, it’s your favorite! Let’s put them on your new water bottle!”

Mushroom stickers. You bought him an entire camping essential kit for mushroom stickers

Jade sighs fondly, “You are something else.”

• He’s weak for your pleading puppy-dog eyes. He has actually covered your face with his hand and looked away because he can’t tell you no when you do that! You try not to abuse the power.. but he can be just as manipulative, so you call it even

• Keeping up with his brother is nothing compared to your boundless energy. Jade loves every minute of being with you but finds your sleepy self adorable. He can read in peace while you rest, sprawled out in his lap. You’re playing a game quietly on your phone, trying to keep your eyes open as his nails gently scratching your back and lull you to sleep.

“We have to be up early tomorrow.” He warns, “You should stop resisting it.”

You yawn, “I know. I jus’ wanna spend more time with you.”

His heart aches at your tired confession, though it’s not the first time you’ve said it. You’re always fighting for ‘five more minutes’, even if you’ve been beside him for hours. It’s endearing.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He promises.

After a moment he feels you grow heavier in his lap, your breathing changes and he knows you believe him enough to let yourself fall asleep.

[bellaiggg]

halloween - scaramouche

contains: degradation, mirrors, little bit of praise,unprotected,rough, hand kink, fingering, masturbation.

(side note!!! this was made in 2020-2021, this is one of my old works from wattpad!! please keep in mind the time difference as well as how scaramouche had no backstory at the time and in this he might be ooc)

MODERN AU

warning: may contain bad spelling, bad grammar, and lower case is intended.

word count - 3064

Y/n POV:

Aw yes, Halloween night, where all the young, popular people host parties and everyone you know goes to them. It's where everyone has an excuse to dress provocatively without getting judged. This year Tartaglia is hosting the party, hopefully his dumbass doesn't fuck anything up. Whatever, Signora told me to trust him.

"y/n! get your ass out of the closet, i wanna see how this costume looks on you!" speaking of provocative outfits, signora is making me wear this bunny girl outfit. she thinks it's a good idea for our little group to match as bunny girls but in different colors. ei isn't here yet, but she's purple, signora is dark red and white, and lastly they gave me black. (a/n: you can choose any color but for the sake of this story i'm going to be writing down black, just imagine yourself in a different color :))

NARARATOR POV:

after hearing her front door ring and her friend call for her, y/n steps out her closet.

"signora can you please get the door for me! it's probably ei."

"yeah sure, also bitch you look so good! just top it off with some jewelry and you'll be perfect!" signora exclaims while walking away.

y/n walks to the mirror, putting on some diamond earrings and she walks over to ei and signora.

"ei! you look so good, your purple eyes really pop in this outfit, and i won't forget about you signora, you look absolutely stunning!"

"thanks y/n, you look so hot! anyways, signora who's even going to the party?"

"oh a lot of people, but mainly people in inazuma! i know for a fact kazuha is going to be there and gorou. since kazuha is there, his bestie tomo is also going to be there. now of course all of the girls are coming like ayaka, yoimiya, kokomi, sara, and your favorite ei, yae miko!"

"oh my archons, ayaka is going to be there? i haven't seen her in forever! but signora, do you know if scaramouche is going to be there?"

"of course y/n, you guys better fuck. i bet 200 mora that you guys will fuck. what are your thoughts ei?"

"SHUT THE FUCK UPPPP, you know how much he gets on my nerves. you guys are killing me with all this teasing. he's literally my biggest enemy."

"uhuh, 'enemy' my ass, you got a thing for him. the tension between you guys is insaneeeee!"

ringgggggg ringgggg ringgggggg

"signora answer your fucking phone!" y/n jokes

"okay, 'hello? oh yes you're here already? yes we are ready. okay we will be out in a few. byeee thank you.' it's tartaglia, he's here to pick us up. scaramouche is also in the car so be on your best behavior y/n"

"he is? what a bitch, whatever lets head out."

*inside the car*

"hey girlies, how are ya?" tartaglia says while rolling down his window.

"fuck you're so weird" scaramouche says under his breath. he's not even paying attention to the people entering the car. he was just dragged here by his friend. he's just on his phone, scrolling through tiktok. he doesn't even want to be seen, he thinks it's idiotic how people gather every year to just party and dress up. since tartaglia didn't want to dress up alone, he made scaramouche dress as ghost face while he is dressing up as a vampire.

"heyy tartaglia, we are doing good! thanks for picking us up by the way!" ei exclaims.

y/n pov:

damn he's hot, he may get on my nerves but that doesn't mean he's not attractive.  he has his mask dangling under his face and he's just scrolling through his phone and he didn't even bat an eye at me.  you know what, who the fuck cares, it's halloween night which means i can finally forget about everything and i get to have fun. the scenery is perfect and everything. it's a dark, chilly night. it's foggy and it's going to storm later, hopefully that doesn't fuck anything up though.

"hey tartaglia, how far are we from your house?" i ask, we have been inside this car for at least 20 minutes and we all have been having our separate conversations. tartaglia is making small talk with scaramouche while signora and ei are talking about how fun this party is going to be.

"damn im that boring? im just playing y/n, we will be at my place in 5 minutes. when we get inside would you like a drink or anything? im sure scaramouche would love to get one for you." ugh this bitch teases me too? i have to stop, i already got my plans straight. tonight im not gonna give 2 fucks, i look hot as fuck and all my friends are with me. why not spice it up a bit and spend some time with scara?

"hmm why not? i would like a drink or two, what about you scaramouche?"

"why the fuck not." wow what a nice response.

                                                ~

"wow tartaglia, you actually did a pretty good job decorating, did anyone help you?" i hear ei ask. i am also surprised, usually signora hosts and plans the parties but the great tartaglia wanted to host the halloween party, saying that he would host the best party of the year or some shit like that.  if he somehow got scaramouche to dress up, i wouldn't be surprised if this was one of the best parties i have ever went to.

"yeah actaully zhongli helped me! anyways make your selves at home, people are starting to arrive. remember, have fun! i don't really give a shit if you guys make a mess."

"thank you ajax, ei why don't you look for yae or sara? i'm sure they are looking for you."

"signora if you tease me one more time, i'm going to kill you! reapectfully though! anyways im going to go to the living room, the music is already blasting, signora do you want to come with me?"

"why of course! have fun y/nnnnnn, and make sure you use protection!" she really walked up to me and whispered that shit in my ear?

"stay safe girls, call me if you need me."

now it's just me and this guy and the atmosphere is getting me excited.  loud music is blasting all through out this house, the halloween decorations are nice, lights flashing every where, and people are already getting drunk.  there is a slight problem though, i'm stuck in the kitchen with scaramouche. yes, i did agree to making drinks with him, but i don't think he's aware of what i'm thinking about right now.  how his hands look while grabbing all the bottles of alcohol, how his mask is just dangling under his chin, and how good his hair looks while it's messy. 

"hey bitch, are you just going to stand there like a helpless little kitty or are you going to help me?" aw, how nice of him.

"oh shut up and lighten up a little, what drink do you want to make?  im good with anything."

"honestly, i don't really want a drink. just pour yourself something, i'm going to the main room." and he's already walking away, whatever i'm just gonna get (f/d) and go to the main room as well.

                                               ~

"HEYY Y/N COME JOINN MEE, DANCE WITH ME MY LOVEEE" god signora is already drunk.

"nah i'm good, i'm probably going to drink my drink then dance with you later, is that fine?" i say rather loudly.

"NOOOOO, NOW!" suddenly i'm on the dance floor now, great.  she really thought it was a good idea to yank my arm to her. it's packed in here, i see ei dancing with yae, and signora is just trying to dance with me. "Y/NNN LOOK AT MEE, OH THIS IS MY FAVORITE SONGGG!" shes so crazy, fuck there's too many people in this room and i'm slowly getting farther and farther away from signora.

i then feel my wrist get pulled by someone from behind me. "i never thought i would see you on the dance floor y/n." oh fuck it's scaramouche.

"well it's just that yae forced me up here, why are you here?"

"i was looking for you because childe wanted me to get you and your friends, it looks like we all have to stay the night because of bad weather. the people with their own rides will be escorted out shortly."

"oh okay thanks for telling me. anyways we should probably get off the dance flo-oh fuck." it's so crowded in here, people or pushing and shoving and because of that i accidentally grinded on scaramouche.

"fuck," he groans lowly. i then feel his hand slowly trail down to my lower stomach while his other arm slowly wraps around me. he then presses me against him and i can feel him move his hips against my ass.

"do that again slut," i continue to sway my hips, i can feel his hard on through his costume.

"attention everybody! there will be severe  weather in about an hour! please get ready to leave! stay safe and thank you for coming to my party!" really tartaglia, you're ruining this shit for me.

"we will continue this later y/n," he then wonders to somewhere. i should get a drink after that, i need to find ei and signora.

                                                ~

im still shaken up about what happened, but he did say he wanted to continue later.  the thing is, i haven't seen him since that incident. most people left and the people who are still here are gathering their stuff and leaving.

"bye y/n! hopefully we can hangout sometime, stay safe!"

"bye itto! you stay safe as well and we definitely have to hangout soon!" and the last person is gone, now i need to find ajax, we need to talk about where we are staying.

*ding*

My shawty ei 😍

y/n, come upstairs! we are all

up here!

                    me

okay! i will be there in a second!

read at 10:30pm

~

"y/nnnn! okay we were just talking about where we are staying and since we are staying at tartaglia's house, he is choosing where we are going to stay,"

"alright, fair enough," i quickly scan the room for the one person i've been waiting to see, mr.scaramouche. i look to my right and there i see him in all his glory, legs spread, and his eyes staring right back at me. i decide to sit next to him and cross my legs, subtly rubbing my leg against his. i can see him stiffen a bit, perfect.

"okay so i will be staying in my room, which is directly under this room, as in its downstairs. i only have three extra rooms which means ei gets her own room and that's in the left hall, signora will be next to ei which will also be in the left hall. lastly, scaramouche and y/n will be in this room, as you may know, we are in the right hall. i will take my leave now, you guys have fun! if you need anything, call me! i'll be in my room! byeeeee ladies and gentlemen."

"uhm tartaglia are you sure you don't have another spare room? because this house is huge, it's perfectly fine if you don't though."

"oh i'm sorry y/n, but i'm afraid that i have no more rooms! anyways, goodnight guys!"

"goodnight, signora lets start heading to our rooms okay?"

"yeahhhhhhh, let's go eiiiii, haha your hair is so purple, it's almost like uhhhh watermelonnn,"

"signora are you sure you didn't smoke anything either? whatever, goodnight y/n, take care!" and there she goes.

*click*

now it's just the two of us, the room is dark and it's pouring outside. lighting is flashing through the window and thunder is heard every other minute.

"i meant what i said, get ready slut," he is so idiotic, he really thinks he can get me that easily. i slowly stand up and get directly in front of him. i put one of my legs up on the sofa and put my finger under his chin.

"scara darling, you really have some nerve, you think you can get me that easily? you're going to have to work a lot harder than that," this is going to be fun.

he then takes my leg and sets it down, then he takes my other leg and sets it down on his other side, so i'm straddling him now.

"don't baby talk me y/n, i will have you screaming my name by the end of the night,"

"oh will you? we will see about that scara, i'm sure i won't feel a thing." as i say that, he starts get a rough grip on my thighs.

"oh go fuck yourself y/n,"

"only if you watch me darling,"

i begin to stare at his lips, they look so good right now. so kissable, but i need him to ache for me. i start to move my hips. back and forth, bath and forth, and i start to feel him get hard. his hand trails down my back, while he starts to smirk right at me.

"do you mean what you said? if so, get on that bed my dirty slut," i slowly get up off him and i start to strip right in front of him. slowly taking off the top part of my costume, which leaves me in my bunny ears, under wear, and knee high socks.

i slowly make my way to the bed, taking my sweet time, making sure he won't be able to hold back.

Narrator POV:

y/n starts to lay down, spreading her legs and takes off her panties. next, she slowly inserts a finger inside of her while directly looking at scaramouche. he moves forward and fixes the position he's in.

"ahh scara, i need you so badlyyy" she slurs lowly.

he starts to clench his jaw, seemingly chewing on nothing. he has hit his breaking point, and he can't take her wide eye stare while she's pleasuring herself. he would much rather if those were his fingers inside of her, his fingers shes sucking on, or even better his dick that is making her sob.

he stands up and walks over to her. he seems to tower over her laying body, his mask is still dangling from his neck, and her blissed out eyes staring right back at his dark blue ones.

he slowly gets on top of her and removes the fingers that were once inside of her.

"y/n i cant wait anymore, you have been leading me on this whole night, fuck can i please put it in?" he asks in desperation.

"mm yes please do,"

with her permission, he quickly strips off every piece of clothing and lines his tip up with her entrance. his dick is dripping with pre cum, and is pink at the tip, waiting for her. he begins rubbing his tip again her aching cunt, teasing her in the process.

slowly, he pushes him self inside of her, and he groans lowly while she lets out a low moan. he wastes no time and instantly starts moving. he starts at a decent pace, letting y/n somewhat adjust to his length.

"mm fuck scara, go faster~" she moans

he seems to get off to her moaning his name, so he continues to quicken his pace.

"you look so fucking good right now, you should really see how good i'm-nghh- making you feel."

he pulls out and carries her to the mirror, right in front of the bed. y/n is now staring at scaramouche hitting it from the back. he then puts himself back in and goes even harder. his hands trail down to her clit and begins to rub it in fast motions.

the sound of rain drops hitting the window is drowned out by moans and skin slapping. the once peaceful halloween night was now turned into something much more than that.

"fuckk look at you, you're such a whore, taking me so well. my fucking whore," his pace starts to get ragged, and he starts to run her swollen clit faster.

tears are already falling out of y/n's eyes, she's barely keeping herself up, her legs shaking from pleasure. he arms are struggling to stay straight, and her ass is red from how hard scaramouche is going.

"ahh fuck, fuck scara you're soo good! i'm soo close~"

"look at you shake, and you said you wouldn't feel a thing right? fuckk bitch,"

their unsteady breaths are in sync, and they are not giving a damn if they rest of their friends could hear them, hell that's the last thing on their mind. his hands are playing with her nipples and rubbing her abused clit, while y/n is moaning scaramouche's name like it's the only thing she knows.

"oh fuck scara, yes!! i'm cumming i'm cumming~"

he groans loudly while pulling out and cumming on her ass, while y/n let her arms give out and is laying on the floor, far too tired to move a muscle.

"heh i never thought i would actually confess to you through sex, i'll take you out on a date next time,"

"love you scara..boyfriend.." y/n cant even make a full sentence without falling asleep, so scara quickly takes care of her and they went to sleep.

~

"good morning love birds, did you guys use protection?" childe greets them.

y/n has one arm wrapped around scara's neck while walking down the stairs, limping in the process.

"fuck, he's trying to say y'all were hella loud," signora complains.

"oh shut the fuck up ajax, y/n i'll get your breakfast." scaramouche replies.

——————————————————————————

thank you so much for reading and i hope u enjoyed!

@Roninewt on twitter (art cred)

[glassladyoftheopera]

In Stars and Time as a Musical Follow Up: Costumes

Okay, a topic I may have enough thoughts on to make a full post about; costumes! (and a little bit stage craft in some places.)

This is mostly about what people would do if they wanted to actually put on a live version of this, versus treating it like a concept album. I am however going to mostly ignore cost restraints outside of like, truly ridiculous stuff.

So first, some general notes.

The color palette: we will still have all of the costumes and sets be in grayscale, with the red used in the 'say it's name' and Act 5 sequences probably mostly being done through lighting. We will not have the actors use skin paint though. I'm not that mean. The audience can buy the idea that the world is meant to be black and white just fine without it.

Materials: I would avoid overly synthetic looking fabrics to maintain the 'vaguely fantasy medieval' vibe, but I wouldn't worry about using actual natural fabric. Comfort and cleaning are higher priorities.

Ensemble: Not much to say about them! Just that the production would have to be careful to make sure everyone is in truly neutral grayscale and not let too warm / cool of grays slip in.

Okay, let's talk characters.

Siffrin is tricky basically every option for interpreting the cloak has it's own pros and cons. Having sleeves means better movement options for the actor, but they only show up in a handful of images in the game. Full poncho means we get Full Triangle Vibe, but it would hamper movement a lot. Cloak with a pinned closed front means we see more of the rest of the costume more often, which I wouldn't mind, but it does break up the classic triangle silhouette. It's honestly still my pick though. Then there's the eye patch. I know some shows just give characters eye patches, and as long as you're careful staging the dances it will probably be fine? But I assume semi-mesh eye patches for performers are a thing, so I'd try to find one of those. Lastly, hat. It probably couldn't be as absurdly big as in game without casting major shadows we don't want on Siffrin's face, so they'll need a slightly narrower brim and we'd keep the hat pinned in a more back position.

Mirabelle's outfit probably wouldn't need to change much, but her little fingerless gloves would need some reinforcement at the top to keep them from falling down her arms. There's also the matter of her needing to have her sword with her most of the show; it might need to be a little smaller than a true rapier, but Shakespeare shows have duels and such so we can make something work.

Odile wouldn't be particularly difficult to costume as long as you don't make her sweater / jacket too heavy and put some straps on her shoes. Fake glasses aren't hard too bad, but some rigging in the back to keep them on will be helpful.

Isabeau I'm sorry but your sleeves have to be a little less gigantic, it will get in the way of the audience being able to read your gestures / get caught on stuff. They can still be long and loose though. Also, in real life the stripes on his pants being that wide could be an issue in terms of reading where he is on stage with the set / looking kind of goofy, so I might make them just a bit thinner.

Bonnie... I do not know how to make your weird pillow hat work in real life. For most game accurate version you'd have to make it completely from scratch. Something like a beret in terms of construction but... big. And probably held up internally with stuffing and wire. The alternative would probably be a big sunhat, and if you want to include Bonnie getting a new hat just slightly redo that scene to find something else that's similar.

Heck yeah its time for Loop! Now, we're definitely not doing a full star head, that wouldn't let the actor do any of that good emoting. But! I think a lower face mask could still work. You might have to hide the actor's mic under there to make sure they could be heard, but it's definitely possible. They would definitely need a custom wig for spikiness, plus a star-like head piece to top it off. Now the rest of it... I mean, you could go full body suit. I'd probably do that as the first choice, though maybe adding a wispy loin cloth or tie around the middle for modesty depending on your performer / venue. But! Different productions could get really creative with it, as long as the base still has them black and covered with stars and there's the star in their chest. Add in some specific design quirks that are only elsewhere found in Sif and The King's costumes, but just tiny little detail type things? Chef's kiss.

Speaking of the King! He unfortunately does need to be Very Big, but thankfully Broadway shows can pull that off! Something similar to the Wizard head in Wicked could work here, where only some parts of the set piece move (mechanically or via puppetry) and the actor is a voice over. The hair could be a mix of practice and projections. The tears that show up in the fight would probably also need to be projected. The hard thing would be getting it to disappear quickly enough. Maybe the last bit before the loop resets is always in front of the curtain? Could be cool. A less well funded production would probably have to either use mostly projections or re-work to use less moving parts.

Last up Euphrasie! Since she has a long dress getting her some extra height wouldn't be too hard, and she doesn't have to dance or anything so that helps. But! She does need to do the Act 4 finale dramatic kneel down, which is harder to work around. If we cast a tall actor and just use lifts in her shoes, it could work. She wouldn't be as super tall as she would be if we used hidden stilts, but I like the image of her cupping Sif's face, it goes all the way back to the comics, I gotta keep it.

What about y'all? How would you dress everyone? Any little details you'd want to see? And tricks to deal with the problems I thought of? Have fun!

[bunnyinvanilla]

The guys that I like just said to me that he doesn’t like me back💀

Now I need a cute daddy!price moment 🙏🏻

btw I love your writing 💕💕

oh cupcake im so so sorry, please don’t let that discourage you or make you feel too sad, im sure you’re beautiful n loving, and at the right time, the right guy will notice you an pick you beautiful flower up <3 everyone’s beautiful and everyone has their other half somewhere, maybe that wasn’t him, but delight in knowing that you’ll definitely find him and you can use this experience as a way to just focus on your glow in the meantime, ily enjoy this is for you🐇🍰 🍡 | sugar daddy!john price x sugar baby fem!reader, laaarge age gap as always (price is in his 40s and reader is 21) ddlg!! little space mentioned, very fluffy

“you’re so old,” you giggle mostly to yourself while you let your fingers scratch his salt and pepper, dark, thick beard. he stays quiet, as usual, only the almost imperceptible twitch of his mustache and the way he pecks his brow upwards give you any sign that he’s heard what you’ve said.

“careful with those words, angel” he mutters, a rumbling, rough voice that makes you giggle again, “but you are! my old, grumpy man”

you squeeze your tiny hands delicately against his cheeks, pressing an open mouthed kiss on his lips, and one more, and another one.

he doesn’t fight your affection, staying still and keeping his eyes steady and firm on your movements. He slithers a hand around your lower back, pulling you closer by your waist, fingers locked on your hip.

“might be your grumpy, old man, but ya still need to be respectful, doll face. Watch your mouth.”

you fake a little pout, throwing your arms around his strong neck and shifting impossibly closer on his lap, launching yourself up with your thighs until you can for once look down on him. “why, daddy, you don’t like being my old man anymore?”

“cheeky little thing y’are” he chuckled, a tiny laugh that almost sound like a scoff. “of course I do, what’s gotten my good girl in such a playful mood today, mmh?”

“I dunnoo..guess im just needy, and probably in little-“ your eyes stop blinking for a second, you realize in that moment that you’re sinking like a fish into the deep ocean of little space.

oh oh.

your cheeks flame up, taking in the same color and warmth of a summer midday sun. You gently shift down onto his legs again, your arms slowly untangling from his neck. “I mean, I guess im just needy, as always.”

“ah-ah, come back here,” he takes a firm hold of your hips, pulling you upward by your waist.

“what is it, princess? tell daddy, come on.”

“it’s nothing sir, im always this clingy” you bop his nose, admiring the way he’s literally aging like the finest wine, attractive and handsome in such a mature and charming way, with the contrast of streaks of gray on his dark hair. “but maybe i just…need some strawberry juice”

john grins at the innuendo, recognizing the secret word code you’ve both set for when you feel littler and needier than usual.

“warm bath with daddy? what’ya say, sweetheart?”

you gleam at the idea, nodding eagerly and happily, and with that, he pushes himself off the chair, effortlessly carrying you with only one arm wrapped under your legs, — you hear him grunt when standing, and you feel bad, scared you might hurt on him “am I-“

“you’re like a feather on my arms, doll, don’t even say it. I can effortlessly carry you wherever you want, just need to crack some bones, sometimes, comes with the age, you wanted an old man, that’s what ya get”

[multiheadcanons]

TF2 MERCS IN THE ANIMAL CARE INDUSTRY BECAUSE WORK HAS BEEN MAKING ME SAD

scout: scout is new to the industry. a year at most. the fastest bather you could find in town. doesn’t want to start his own business, so works for a mom and pop shop. personality hire, but he’s getting better and better every day. has no interest in learning how to groom, though. he doesn’t have the right eye to make an animal look good.

soldier: soldier is more likely to be an owner of a very blank salon that he rents out booths for individual groomers. only takes enough from the money pool to maintain the building. doesn’t really care what goes on otherwise. his tenants LOVE him, because any issue is solved within 48 hours and they can do whatever they want as long as they take care of the place. handles sharpening because he knows the sharpener.

pyro: runs a luxury doggy daycare; and is VERY serious about the job. is up almost 24 hours a day during holiday seasons taking care of up to 30 dogs a day. has a handful of full time, live in employees, but they get so nervous when they’re not there they just stay at the daycare all day, watching. loves their employees. pays like, double the average wage as a start, because pyro expects nonstop work. consistent raises and bonuses, AND pizza parties.

engineer: a man of many hats. is actually a farrier. but if you got a sheep that needs shearing or something that needs to be tinkered with or a blade that needs sharpening or a dog that just needs a bath and nail trim he’s also your man. is the ONLY LICENSED AND CERTIFIED SHARPENER IN THREE FUCKING STATES. busy, busy man. soldier sends wealthy business and hearty workers his way in exchange for a monthly sharpening for his little shop. they’re friends, and soldier has always been a man of his word, so of course he agreed.

heavy: specializes in extra large dogs. 70 pound minimum to book with him. he runs a one on one fear free grooming experience called “Giant Spaw For Giant Dogs”. his website to book an appointment is full of pictures of him holding these massive dogs like they’re puppies. he’s smiling so wide in each picture. heavy loves dogs. has numerous certifications. is dog cpr certified. regularly attends dog shows. his salon is BEAUTIFUL. sleek, modern, lavender and navy theme. you enter and the reception area smells… so good. charges an arm and a leg though. but he sends you like… pictures of your dog on photoshopped backgrounds. it’s so worth it, his clientele is DEVOTED to him. one time he got sick and had to cancel his appointments and one of his clients broke down on him, praying for his health over the phone.

demo: demo is the best worker in the state, and he cycles through salons and clinics often based on where he’s needed. every business wants him so bad when they don’t have him. is getting paid VERY well to do what he does best. enjoys the process of bathing a dog without the stress of the haircut. fast, efficient, able to juggle multiple groomers as ONE bather. he’s a vital asset to any team he’s with, and he doesn’t even need the money. also likes working kennel. will help pyro during the holiday season for a break.

spy: i have two ideas. spy either has like, celebrity clientele, or spy exclusively grooms cats. requires his clients on a monthly schedule either way. his salon is also one on one quiet luxury pet care. brown and cream colored salon. never remembers to take pictures of his work. to book with him requires prepayment. website is sleek, and his portfolio is sorted by breed. doesn’t ask what anyone wants done on their pet, just does what he thinks is best. they always come out stellar. even his worst grooms are westminster worthy. has a wall of pet colognes and finishing prays.

sniper: sniper is a mobile groomer and his business is called “Come Wash My Dog”. fast, efficient. doesn’t do anything fancy on any dog, and charges accordingly. does keep bows and bandanas to put on his favorite clients. likes terriers. occasionally gets caught up talking to his clients. it’s like his human interaction for the day. don’t come up to him making any requests, he is very frank that he is not one of them fancy groomers. he gives the dogs a trim if he can. that’s why his prices are so low.

medic: see, medic might make a really bad and unethical human doctor. but i think he’d make a phenomenal avian veterinarian. i think if medic became a veterinarian he would be a much different, much more ethically fulfilled man. known for his passion and dedication to the job. practically sleeps in his office so he is on call, at all times. probably wouldn’t have interest in tending to anything past the birds, but because he is known as one of three exotic vets in the state he’ll occasionally see reptiles and rodents. only has passing thoughts of joining an illegal pet trade, but he loves his job so much. he couldn’t forgive himself if he squandered it. keeps every feather that falls off his clients, and keeps them in organized files. when a client dies, he’ll give them the feathers and keep one for his clinic’s gallery wall. has a clinic cat because he thinks the irony’s funny. much more at peace with himself. at his worst he’s like house but with birds and without the drug addiction.

[redsrooftopprincess]

Pls ignore me if your requests are closed buuuuuuutttt

Headcanons for a reader that can't stop 'mirin(staring full love and joy, especially when they're not looking) with infamously insecure Big Red ?

And if not, know that you're loved and appreciated regardless and I'm glad you and your blog exist

Hello my dear Gornack! Hope the new year is treating you well. Thank you for the ask! 🥰

Mountains and Sunsets and You

Raphael x Reader

No warnings

"You got something to say?"

His sudden attention snaps you back into reality. 

Shit. Fuck.

Caught red handed, you try to keep cool as heat fills your cheeks. 

You were doing it again. He could see you out of the corner of his eye for the last hour. You were sitting on one of the benches, pretending to work, and watching him as he and his brothers worked through their katas. It had almost made him trip twice.

It's always new and exciting at first, but you've already known him for a few months. The novelty should have worn off by now. But it keeps happening. He catches you staring. It's only him, he's paid enough attention to know you don't watch his brothers like this. It's unnerving. Distracting. He'd taken a backhand to the jaw during sparring last week, and even spilled his midnight coffee on April's carpet. Twice.

"No..." you say a little too innocently.

Training had wrapped for the night, and it had been Raphael's turn to put the equipment away, leaving him alone in the dojo with you as you gathered up your paperwork. You stood, turning to leave, when your eyes landed on him. You couldn't help but follow the lines of his side with every stretch, and the way the muscles in his arms shifted under his skin as he almost reverently placed each weapon back on the wall. 

There isn't anything wrong with it, per se. You aren't looking at him with hatred or fear or disgust, if anything you look... fascinated. And not in a "weird mutant science experiment" kind of way. He can't explain it, and he can't explain the warmth that pools in his stomach every time he catches you doing it. And it's frustrating as hell.

"Then why the hell are you looking at me?" He growls, "Why the hell are you always looking at me?" He takes three steps towards you before stopping, instinct identifying pain and confusion as an an opponent, but you don't flinch. You know you're not in any real danger. Never from him. 

His scales catch the multicolored lights in the lair making him shimmer, and as he fidgets your eyes move over the gentle color shift that will only let you see his markings when the light is just right. You've never met anyone like him, seen anything like him, and everything he does is captivating. 

"Because you're beautiful," you say, simply, before you can stop yourself. 

This catches him off-guard, and he hesitates for a moment before he scoffs and looks away, "You're hilarious."

"Am I laughing?" You ask, without so much as a smile.

His eyes meet yours, hurt and suspicion deepset in amber. You can't be serious. When your features don't change, and he realizes there's no oncoming punchline, his eyes soften and fall away. 

Your jaw tightens. You hate it. You hate the way the world has ground imperfection and insecurity into every single scale. He's worth so much more than this broken place, and he's been beaten into believing he's unworthy of less than this. 

"Does that make you uncomfortable?" You ask, gently.

"Does what?"

"The fact that I find you beautiful." 

He hesitates, "... yes."

"Why?"

"Because it's bullshit." He snaps.

"Why?"

He looks at you incredulously.

"Why?" You repeat. 

He scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"Why?" You nearly demand, "Why not you? Why can't you be beautiful?"

"Because I'm not." The words ring out against the cement walls, as solid and true as the foundations of the earth.

He's not. He can't be. He's not human. He's not normal. He's a 6'5" turtle with chronic pain and a bad attitude. Covered in scars, shell cracked and gouged and broken in places, he's all thick hide and hard edges. How could anyone find that "beautiful?"

A few moments pass, and you gently break the silence, "Can I ask you something?"

"I got a choice?" He sighs, his frustration dissolving into exhaustion. He doesn't want or need a pep talk, and he sure as hell doesn't want someone like you trying to make him feel better. But somewhere, in the short time you've known each other, he's begun to trust you. He motions for you to continue.

"Do you think a mountain is beautiful?"

His gaze returns to yours and blinks twice, "... What?"

"Do you think a mountain is beautiful," you repeat. 

"Uh, yeah... I guess..." His brow furrows.

"Do you think..." You think for a moment, "a sunset is beautiful?" 

He sighs heavily, shifting his weight, "Yeah. Why. What's this got to do with anything?"

"Do you think I'm beautiful?" A small smile turns the corner of your mouth. He can't help glancing at it.

He hesitates. He just met you, and he really likes spending time with you. You're quick and kind and a hell of a good listener, he's vented to you about his brothers more than once already. You have a way of talking to him that makes things make sense. And Gods, yes, you're beautiful. Like a sun he can't stop staring at, even as his eyes are burning.

"Yes," he finally admits softly, holding your gaze. 

You try to ignore the way the word ricochets around your ribcage, and push on, tilting your head slightly, and questioning softly, "Would you ever consider me ugly for not looking enough like a mountain or a sunset?" 

"What? No! Why the hell -" he stops when you raise an eyebrow. It dawns on him slowly, and he blinks at you. 

You decide it best to let him turn that over for a while. He watches you wordlessly as you walk past him, bumping his arm gently with yours on your way out of the dojo. "See you later, Red," you say with a smile, before disappearing through the door.

....

Tag list:

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[24-05txt]

Soap comes to and he's already walking. This on its own isn't entirely surprising because it's not the first time this has happened. There's just never enough time in the day. He finishes one thing, and then it's right onto the next; steadily marching from one task to another. When most of his life is spent walking, he learns to tune it out. Mental space better wasted on something else.

Present again in his own mind, he takes time for a perfunctory sit-rep. The skies are mostly clear, sparse clouds, and the forest around him is lush with foreign vegetation. He's traveling light, just basic gear and his firearm, a—

... hold on, he doesn't have a firearm. Scratch that, he doesn't have arms.

Soap stumbles, suddenly dizzy, and promptly trips over himself in a heap of new limbs, leaving his field of vision blocked by a wall of blue-grey that he has the horrifying realization is attached to him.

"What the fuck?" He starts, trying and failing to move his fingers or toes. "What the fuck?!"

He's echoed by Gaz somewhere behind and above him, a slightly higher-pitched "What the fuck?" And then, "Captain?!"

"Gaz?" Soap (lacking fingers or toes) wiggles a set of limbs, expecting arms and instead finds that he's stiltedly unfolding a set of wings he'd tangled himself in. He has wings. "Steaming fucking christ."

"Is that a fucking pegasus?" Asks Price, sounding far too calm for the situation at hand. It's quickly remedied when he adds, "Is that a unico—Fuck! What the fuck!" And, honestly, if the Captain is panicking then it's a very bad day indeed.

What seems like hours of shouting, swearing, and flailing pass in a slightly less than hysterical blur for all three of them before they're able to calm enough to take stock of the situation (beyond the well established fact that they all appear to be horses of some variation.)

"Why's Gaz the unicorn?" Soap asks, trying his damndest to distract himself from the very real stress of having two more legs and a total of four new limbs he's not used to. "That's Scotland's national animal, the fuck is a pegasus good for? It should have been me."

"Soap, Jesus Christ, Fuck off." Gaz doesn't look over at him, focused solely on his hooves, trying to stay upright without swaying. His fur (is it fur or hair on a horse? Soap never cared much for horses) is a deep violet, darkest along his spine, but his chest, belly, and legs below the knees are solid white. (Are those the knees? Or are those the ankles? Fuck, if he'd known this was in his future he'd've had a horse phase.) He is also, to Soap's irritation, a unicorn; the horn is the same color as his fur, and he has a little beard that matches his mane and tail, both tight and coily like his human hair.

"Don't think so hard about it," he advises, swallowing his own nausea from making the same mistake. Hypocrite, he is. Actually, he remembers hearing somewhere that horses can't vomit, and wonders dizzily if that applies to pegasi as well. "The movin', I mean. Y'ken what to do if you let your body do it."

"Muscle memory?" Gaz asks, incredulous and still a little hysterical. "How can I have fucking muscle memory when the body is brand new?"

Soap shrugs, then becomes hyper-aware of the fact that horses cannot shrug, despite the fact he just did, and is thrust head-long into another fit of nausea.

"Think am gonna boak."

"No, you're not," says Price, with all the authority of his station. (If your Captain says you're not going to throw up, then by God you better keep a lid on it.) "He's right, though. It's best not to think too hard about how to move, just move and keep your head screwed on while you do it." Despite the surety of his tone, Soap can hear him huffing out every breath through his nose, almost snorting.

"Sir," he and Gaz acknowledge at the same time, and Soap even goes so far as to straighten his posture—solidly not thinking about what muscle groups he has to engage to do it. Just straighten up (and fly right—oh god.)

Soap doesn't know where to rest his gaze. Down, and he sees his hooves (upsetting), up and he sees Gaz and his Captain (also upsetting), too far up and he's just looking through the trees at a picturesque sky (not upsetting, but less than helpful).

"I'm gonna," he starts, then quickly falters, still lokking at the sky and unsure of what, exactly, he's gonna do. (Not vomit, that's for sure.) "Gonna... walk. Around. I'm gonna walk a perimeter." He sounds a little more steady as he realizes that's exactly the thing he needs right now—he needs to be alone for a moment, needs a minute to actually get his shit straight without being distracted by his teammates doing the same.

"Sergeant..." Price's warning tone is slightly strained, and though Soap is watching wind blow through the leaves, he doesn't hear any movement from the Captain's direction.

"I'm not an idiot, Captain, I won't be goin' far. Just need some air Gaz hasn't breathed first."

"Hey." The protest is weak, made more for a sense of routine than any real offense.

Soap obediently waits until he has the reluctant go-ahead from his Captain before he ducks off the beaten path and into the surrounding woodland.

It's easier to look around here, without the risk of catching a glance of some major discrepancy that'll make his stomach turn. He goes far enough that he can only catch glimpses of Gaz's purple coat through the trees before he turns and starts his perimeter.

It's slow-going. He’s trying to get used to looking down and seeing hooves instead of feet, and most his success comes from cataloging them like they belong to someone else, and not him. He notices they're cloven, like a cow's, and a blue so dark it's almost black. Further up, toward what he's decided to call his knees, his fur lightens to a mottled cerulean. Beyond that he's unsure—those observations had to be made in furtive glances because if he looked too long, he'd notice himself walking, and if he noticed himself walking he'd be sent stumbling and cursing into the underbrush.

He's able to notice other things about himself with detached curiosity; he doesn't have a horse's tail, and instead has large, wide tailfeathers, like a bird. When at rest, his wings settle snuggly against his sides, but if he properly relaxes them they droop toward the ground (this was another event that sent him stumbling into the underbrush. Moving naturally was one thing, but trying to single out a single set of limbs he hadn't been born with made him forget about his legs for a moment. The front set. Forelegs?)

Completing half his circuit finds him back on the dirt path, this time behind the Captain and Gaz, speaking in low tones as they put their heads together. Price's coat is a sort of green he doesn't quite know the name of, like the grass turf of a golf course after a bit of rain so there's some mud around the edges of everything. Like Gaz, his legs up to the knees are white, although he also has a diamond-shaped splotch over his shoulderblades. Lucky bastard seemed to be a normal horse, save for the fact his stupid mutton chops made it over somehow.

"If he can't have the hat, suppose it only makes sense he gets to keep his dick-tickler," Soap mutters as he crosses again from dirt path to dense foliage. It's only after a few seconds of no response that he realizes he was waiting for one at all.

Ghost.

Soap spins around, but the lieutenant isn't behind him (no other horses aside from himself, the Captain, and Gaz for that matter). He walks back out onto the path, but sees no sign of anyone or anything that could be Ghost, although Price turns around to give him a concerned look. (He's half convinced that he may be exaggerating the level of expressiveness his Captain has right now, but he's already committed to not thinking too hard about how his hindbrain interprets their situation.)

"Where's Ghost?" He already knows the answer, but Price's sudden look of alarm just confirms it.

They don't know.