#might clean it up sometime to make the lines more visible but for now i am very happy
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Repurposed an enamel pin from some other fandom to make my beautiful boy đ
#kept the hat tho#it looks like dandelion's so it's perfect#note: shimmery acrylic paint pens are a BRILLIANT investment if only for this purpose#also i can wipe it down with some acetone if i ever want to give him a different outfit!#i love it#my crafts#aw heck I'll also tag this as#my edits#might clean it up sometime to make the lines more visible but for now i am very happy
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Hold Him Down (pt. 1)
TW:Â Med Whump, Gratuitous Med Whump, Medical Restraints, Chemical Restraints, Noncon Touch, Referenced Noncon, Parker Destin, Institutionalized Slavery, Noncon Drugging, Conditioning, Referenced Food/Water Restriction, Referenced/Described STI testing, Referenced/Described Shock Collar, Whumper POV, literally over 4k words wtf, get leo a pet fish and warm hug when.
Notes:Â This is one of those things that I'm, as usual, not sure needs to or should exist, but I spent so much time writing it that I couldn't just NOT post it, sooo here it is. Parts 4-6 coming eventually. Takes place in the 12-ish hour span after Leo is prematurely returned from our best guy, Parker Destin. This may be one that I revisit and try to refine down the line.
â„ â„ â„
From behind a two-way mirror, Handler Otto Gray and an unfamiliar intake handler stand, arms crossed over their chests. They watch Leo quietly, relieved that, at least for now, the dust has settled.Â
His eyes finally closed, a few hours earlier, following a massive fight that ended in a sizable dose of Lorazepam. Even drugged, it took what felt like ages for him to settle down, and even longer for his body to finally go limp. Hours later, the salty tear-streaks are still visible on his cheeks.
The doctor asked them to wait on cleaning him up; in spite of the second handlerâs objections, in spite of the apparently innate desire to put this unconscious boy in his place, the handler turned on his heels and left in a huff. Otto hesitated, sparing a quick glance at Leo. He wondered, briefly, how he had managed to fail so spectacularly, before dismissing the thought all together. Against his better judgment, he squeezed Leoâs hand briefly, then he checked to make sure the restraints were appropriately secured and exited. Today was sure to be a long day, sure to be even longer if they could not get a handle on whatever panic-induced psychosis Leo was clearly grappling with.
Somewhere in the middle of it all, shift change happened. The handler who had spent the evening scowling at Leoâs lifeless form clocked out, muttering a, âGood luck,â to his replacement. Otto stayed, though, with a quick glance at handler Nick Ford, according to his name tag, and a muttered greeting. Hopefully, he thinks, this one is better suited for this type of work than the last. The doctor comes up behind them, and the three stand in silence for a moment.
âHeâs asleep?â the doctor asks, which is a question that could ordinarily be answered with a quick glance through a chart, but Leo has a notoriously unpredictable response to sedatives and that, if nothing else, has been noted numerously in his file.
Otto nods, his jaw locked. âI think so.â
Leoâs wrists are red, raw where each strap hugs them, but for the last few hours, they have been still. Mostly.
âFor how long?â the doctor asks, thumbing through the notes from the night before. A colorful account of the events that led to this moment, which, although maybe not immediately helpful, might lend insight into the inner workings of Leo Evans.
âA couple hours,â Handler Ford supplies, and Otto is struck suddenly with a potent distaste for how this night has played out.Â
Itâs not out of the ordinary, exactly, for a worker to require this level of support after a contract. He hoped, though, maybe naively, that Leo was more resilient than this.
Heâs been drugged out of his mind, and as hard as he fought it, the drugs eventually dragged him under. To Ottoâs understanding, it was only after several hours of trying to calm him down using other methods that he was eventually medicated, and, to Ottoâs understanding, the doctor intends now to keep him drugged until heâs under control. He idly wonders if thereâs a chance at modifying those plans. Leo is tough, sometimes damn near impossible to work with, but they had found a kind of balance when Otto was his handler. And he thinks, now, he can perhaps spare everyone some heartache if he can have a go at his former trainee.
Otto peers in closer to the window as Leo gasps, his wrists pulling once, lightly, at the straps.
âAlright,â the doctor says, at the same time that Leoâs eyes crack open. As Handler Ford reviews the notes with the Doctor, Otto studies Leo. He hadnât been an easy trainee. He had been downright defiant at times, resistant to every standard training tool the DLS employed. Otto had been called in in his second month, after his primary handler was fired for, more or less, losing his patience with Leo one time too many, with Leo landing in the ICU. Even after that, success came in short, nearly unpredictable bursts.
When Leo had finally been cleared to take his first contract, that would usually have been the end of Ottoâs time with him. But, at least in some of his most challenging successes, he liked to keep an eye on them, if not just to see how they did. He would tell you he did this to improve his own methods, and to help him understand the longer term implications of his work. That wouldn't be the whole truth, though.Â
Leo was one of the select few that Otto found himself keeping an eye on. He had gotten through his first contract easily, and Otto recalled the feeling of immense relief as he read through Ms. Smithâs post-contract interview. Leo had been put in a short term holding site and almost immediately secured his second contract. That one wasnât set to terminate for three months still, so when Otto got the notification that Leoâs file was being updated last night, he called in some favors with the intake department.
He stands here now, mostly frustrated, a little bit confused, and perhaps, maybe slightly sympathetic. Simmering beneath all that is anger, misplaced but a constant undertone that, he worries, may drive some of his decisions today. He buries it as deeply as he can. It serves neither him nor Leo.
Leo blinks hard toward the ceiling, but seems to clock his circumstances quickly. His head turns toward the mirror and for a moment, Otto thinks Leo can see him, right through him, right into the place Leo used to occasionally access and attempt to exploit.
Otto stares at his eyes, red, heavy, and unfocused, and wills Leo to remain calm. Leo swallows, and pulls again against the restraints.
Stop, Otto silently commands. But he doesnât. Of course, he wouldnât.
âWhat are the odds heâll take it on his own?â Otto hears from next to him.
âWhat?â Otto responds, shifting his focus.
âThe meds?â Handler Ford says as he holds up a small cup of pills in one hand, a syringe filled with an off-white liquid in the other.
âOh,â Otto responds. The odds, he thinks, are nonexistent. The good news is this isnât explicitly his problem anymore.Â
âAny pointers?â Handler Ford asks then. At Ottoâs look, he says, âYou worked with him, right?âÂ
Otto nods, but doesnât offer any pointer. Handler Ford stares at him intently, so, out of some misplaced desire to prove that he is not, in fact, completely incompetent with his trainees, he says, âA long time ago. I did his initial training after his first handler got canned.â
âWhat for?â Ford asks. Heâs stalling, Otto thinks.Â
âAssault,â Otto supplies. He inclines his head toward the room, and turns away from Handler Ford, re-orienting himself toward the window.
âWish me luck?â
âGood Luck,â Otto says, not unkindly, as the handler disappears behind the door. Moments later, he is in Leoâs room.
Leoâs demeanor immediately shifts, from alarmed and fighting to gain function to panicked, but he stills, he swallows, he forces his eyes on the handler, and takes a breath. Good boy, Otto thinks.
Heâs whispering something, but Otto canât make out the words. He thinks heâs heard Parkerâs name, and Handler Ford shakes his head.
Leo nods, then, and takes one of those deep, shuddering breaths that usually mean heâs on the edge of some big feelings. Otto, once more, leans closer to the window.
Handler Ford begins listing out the things he needs Leo to do this morning, and Leoâs brow creases as he takes it in, nodding after each item, but seemingly oblivious to the actual requests.
Inside the observation room, the doctor joins Otto.
âDo you know what happened?â Otto asks the doctor. Otto, immediately realizing he could be asking any number of things, clarifies, âThat led to this. He didnât have an issue after his first contract.â
âSometimes they get freaked out after spending some time with a particularly cozy buyer,â he replies.Â
Otto nods.Â
In the room, Handler Fordâs hand is on Leoâs neck, pressing under the collar. Leo stays still, but Otto can see the fear in his eyes, behind layers and layers of grief. Itâs odd, seeing him like this.
âYou didnât last too long, did you?â Handler Ford is saying, dripping condescension, as Leo swallows, holding in a fresh wave of tears.
â„ â„ â„
âItâs nothing personal, Leo.â Parkerâs driver waits for Leo just beyond the threshold. In his hand, Parker holds out a DLS-issued bag.
Leo nods.
Parker grabs his face between his hands and presses his lips to Leoâs forehead. âYou have to understand I didnât plan for this,â heâs saying, but Leoâs ears are ringing. âI would have waited to take on a worker if I had any inclination I would be called away.â His words are kind, Leo thinks, but thereâs almost a note of condescension under them.Â
Leo feels a sort of emptiness spreading throughout him, a cold void that precedes what he could only describe as terror. For whatâs next. For losing this thing, that he isnât sure he should want, but he wants, so desperately. He clings to it.Â
âParker, Iâ I can,â Leo starts, taking a step back. He can, what? fix this? do better? be better? âPlease donât do thisâŠâ
Parkerâs thumbs glide across Leoâs cheeks.
âI thought they beat that out of you,â Parker says, his lips pulled into a half-smile. Leo falters, the words he has prepared are completely knocked out of him.
âIâ Iâm sorry,â is all he can now formulate. He can feel his circumstances changing as every second passes. Heâs going to be sick. The feeling of bile rising wars against the knowledge that if he is sick at this moment, it will be unforgivable.Â
Parkerâs hands drift down to Leoâs shoulders and he pulls him into a half-hug, pressing his forehead against Leoâs.
âDonât worry about it,â Parker says. He wants to say more, Leo thinks.
Instead, Parker uses the grip he has on Leoâs shoulder to push him away and rakes his eyes slowly over Leo, from his head to his toes. He smiles and grabs the collar of Leoâs shirt, poking out from under a deep blue sweater. Itâs Parkerâs favorite.
He inclines his head briefly toward the door and Leo counts every breath he takes.
âThey said not to send your books and clothes and things,â Parker explains as he pulls open the front door. âItâll just go to waste. I can donate it, if youâd like?â
And Leo, in that moment, hesitates. Can he ask Parker to keep it, for when he gets back from his trip? Maybe, he thinks. Maybe Parker hasnât considered that Leo could stay in the house and look after it, and he doesnât need to send him away.Â
And then it occurs to Leo that maybe Parker is using this time to help figure out the gaps in his training, because theyâve been butting heads lately, and if thatâs the case, he wants to tell Parker that he will take this time seriously, and will be better suited to be what Parker needs him to be when he returns.
Leo opens his mouth to say this, to say any of it, even just to tell Parker that he will try harder when he gets back from his trip.
But the panic wraps itself around Leoâs throat, and Leo says nothing.
â„ â„ â„
âAre you ready to behave?â The words distort around the edges and Leo blinks hard, willing himself to focus.
This handler, Leo thinks, is unfamiliar to him. There is a fuzziness to both his vision and his thoughts, compounded by blurry memories of the night before. The handler is standing just outside of his line of sight, offering terse reprimands each time he fails to respond. He is trying, though. He wants to tell them heâs trying, but his tongue feels too thick and his voice wonât work.
Thereâs an added danger that Leo tries not to acknowledge, even silently. Theyâve put a training collar on him, but they havenât gone so far as to shock the world into focus. Even if his limbs didnât weigh a thousand pounds, he would not be able to lift them. Thick canvas straps wound tightly around each wrist and ankle keep him in place, and Leo blinks at the unexpected wave of terror: these people can and will hurt him with no regard for the fact that he is wholly unable to protect himself.Â
The drugs help him accept these facts, but do not help him to forget them.
Memories of the night before claw their way to the surface. Of the sound of his own screaming, of gloved hands pinning him down, of his clothing being pulled off of his body. Of Parker's favorite sweater, which he held tightly to his chest, as it was ripped from his arms. He flinches at the memory of himself, just [some?] hours earlier, as he begged them to let him keep it, as a needle digs its way deep into his thigh. The darkness was quick to swallow him up after that.
And then there are other memories, too, from later in the night. Distorted flashes of the handlers coming to visit him, of cold hands pulling off the thin blanket that had been draped over him. He wondered if the drugs might ease the pain. When they didnât, he allowed himself a moment of relief in the hope that this might all just be written off as a drug-induced nightmare in the light of day.
And now, the drugs fading, and the light of day doing nothing to erase ache deep inside of him, he swallows, blinking slowly, and longs only for the reprieve that unconsciousness may bring. That maybe they will drug him again, before they touch him again. His stomach turns over, and he draws his focus to the lights on the ceiling.
âHeâs lost some weight,â he hears the doctor say, but they arenât speaking to him, so he closes his eyes and taps each finger on the pad beneath him, just to see if he can feel them all.Â
âHis buyer kept him hungry,â the handler replies. He can, he thinks, feel them all. âMy understanding is he kept him on a pretty strict eating plan.â
Leo recoils, hearing Parkerâs voice in his head. The DLS has asked that you start out on a kind of strict meal plan for a little bit. He blinks back tears at the unwelcome memories. Of Parker, event after event, selecting everything he ate, everything he touched. Of the imperceptible nod Parker would give him when he reached for something at the dinner table. Or the terse shake of his head when he moved to something unacceptable.Â
Leo wants to tell these men that Parker didnât keep him hungry. That he was just enacting the plan he had been given.
âIâll need a copy of it,â the doctor responds, and Leo squeezes his eyes shut, forcing his mind blank.
âItâs in his file,â the handler says. Leoâs ears ring.Â
âGood.â The doctor presses his hands fingers into the back of Leoâs neck, the collar momentarily tightening as the fingers explore under it. âHeâs dehydrated,â he says, and Leo can picture the handler typing his notes. âAre you going to tell me the buyer restricted his water intake too?â
From somewhere far away, the handler laughs, and Leoâs expression tightens, momentarily stunned by the mockery.
âItâs alright,â he thinks he hears, but the voices are so far away now. He doesnât know that heâs crying until he feels a thumb wiping at his cheek, and Leo sucks in a breath. âYouâre alright.â
The world stands still for what could be seconds or minutes or longer. When the doctorâs hand finally migrates upward, and a light is shined into each of Leoâs eyes, he is momentarily blinded, but immediately aware that he has lost time.
The doctorâs fingers, inches from his face, snap once. âHi, Leo,â he says simply. And then, âIâm Dr. Grant. Are you with me?â
Leo swallows, which hurts, and other memories slide to the surface of the night before. He tries to nod. The movement makes his head pound. âYes,â he whispers, but based on the doctorâsâ what was his name?â grimace, he doesnât think it came out right.
The doctor sighs and seemingly gives up on Leoâs active participation, instead pulling the blanket down to Leoâs waist and putting a stethoscope to Leoâs chest. Itâs nothing, Leo thinks, but itâs never just this. He closes his eyes again and begins counting in his head. Every so often, he forgets where he left off, and he starts over.
The doctor explains what heâs doing as he works, and Leo wonders idly if itâs for his benefit or for some other reason. To pass the time, and maybe to distract himself, Leo imagines a new doctor in the adjacent observation room, learning this trade. He wonders if itâs a good doctor or a bad doctor, and opens his eyes just enough to glance toward the mirror, to see if he can spot him back there. There are no good doctors here, he decides, and starts counting again.
The doctor looks at Leoâs wrists and describes them to the handler, who writes it all down. He examines Leoâs arms and his shoulders and his chest and his stomach as he searches for signs that Parker hurt him beyond what would be considered reasonable, which he didnât, Leo wants to say, and that Parker will come back for him after his trip, and that he needs to be ready to go home. Then he starts counting again, because the idea of telling this man that Parker will come back for him will be met with laughter, and Leo doesnât know if he can handle it. Heâs pretty sure he canât.
Fingers prod at Leoâs stomach and he canât suppress the accompanying flinch, and as the drugs start to wear thin, he feels himself less and less able to accept what is being done to him.
âAlright, Leo,â the doctor says, and Leo opens his eyes and is met with mostly, he thinks, concern.
âIâll be back.â The doctor shoots the handler a look, and Leo wants to close his eyes again, but as the handler approaches, Leo knows, acutely, that itâs a bad idea.
âAre you going to cause a scene?â the handler asks, before lifting the blanket from Leoâs lap. Leo shrinks back, an instant passing in which his entire body goes rigid, but shakes his head âno.â He hopes itâs enough.
He holds his breath, waiting for it to be over, or, waiting for it to start, and feels the handlerâs eyes sliding down his body.
He thinks he might be shaking, but he isnât sure.Â
The doctor returns a moment later, and after a quick assessment of how things have evolved, issues a quick but gentle, âItâs alright.â Itâs not, though, and Leo locks his jaw to keep from crying. He wants to ask if he can close his eyes again. Sometimes they would let him, when things were about to get really bad, in initial training. Sometimes, if he asked clearly, and if he caught them on a good day, they would let him.
âNo wonder he was returned,â the handler says, leaning back against the wall.Â
âCan I close my eyes?â he whispers then, before he can catch the humor in the handlerâs expression. The doctor looks at him once, and nods. Leo doesnât hesitate to clamp his eyes shut, unwilling to chance opening them at all, maybe ever, and instead continues counting in his head.Â
âContinue working on your empathy,â the doctor says evenly, but Leo is pretty sure he isnât speaking to him so he works on breathing and counting and nothing else.
He tries to block out the words. This is another moment in training, and it too will end eventually.Â
âThey put him through hell in training. He has a right to be mistrustful.â And then, to Leo, he says, âIâm going to give you something to help balance you out,â and his touch disappears. âJust hang tight, Leo.âÂ
Without warning, a hand clamps around his neck, pinning him in place. His eyes fly open, his arms pull instinctively against the restraints, as the tip of a syringe is pushed past his teeth and to the back of his throat.
He gags, his head knocking back against the thin pillow, but the handlerâs grip is merciless, and in the next instant, a thick, bitter liquid is sliding down his throat. Tears well in his eyes, and he would swear the culprit was simply the bitterness of the medicine.
Itâs mistaken for something else, though, and the handler releases him as the doctor runs a hand through his hair and says, âYouâre alright.â
Leoâs shaking harder now, and his fingers grip into the pad he lays on and he urges himself to still. His chest aches as he tries to catch his breath, the taste of the medicine still heavy on his tongue. But still, almost immediately, he can feel his body lightening, the tension pulling back until the shaking eases, and the doctor nods, and approaches. Leo canât feel the fear he knows he should feel.Â
He can feel nothing.
Even with the memories of the night before, even with the doctor and the handler so close to him, he can breathe again.
Still, Leo canât contain the subconscious jerk of his body as a flash of sharp pain shoots through him. The doctor issues an apology, along with a soft, âalmost done,â and turns the swab, over and over, as Leoâs legs fight against the hands that hold them in place. He tries to find a place in his mind to retreat into, but he hasnât been there in months, if not longer, and in that moment, it offers no reprieve. He thinks he cries out, locking his teeth and pressing his head back into the pillow as hard as he can to distract himself from what goes on lower. When the doctor is finished, he wipes Leo down and drapes the blanket over his lap.
What he doesnât say is âGood, Leo,â because they would both know it to be untrue.Â
Still, in the next breath, the restraints are being unbuckled, and Leo is lifted at his shoulders until he is sitting, and his wrists are being examined, and there is a hand rubbing his back. He blinks slowly, willing the room back into focus, and he can hear voices but he isnât able to follow their conversation.
âIt doesnât need to be this hard,â he thinks the handler is saying, and even though his head is hung low and his shoulders are scrunched to make him as small as possible, in his peripherals he can see the doctor shooting the handler a sharp look. âWhat?â he bites back. âItâs true.â
âAlright, Leo,â the doctor says then, ignoring the handler entirely. Leo keeps his eyes locked on the ground and he takes the blanket in a white-knuckled grip.
The doctor lets him catch his breath, rubbing his back every few seconds. Leo thinks heâs using it to get a read on his heart rate, but he doesnât care just then. The doctor explains whatâs next, and moves to ease Leo onto his side. Leo, for his part, cooperates, lowering himself slowly, watching as his fingers shake. He wraps his arms so tightly around his stomach he think he might leave bruises, but when the doctor touches him, he doesnât flinch.
âThereâs some bruising,â the doctor says neutrally, but Leo canât look at the handler to see if he types it. It could be from the handlers, or it could be from Parkerâs friends the night before. Leo chokes on his next breath, and in spite of the drugs, he can feel the panic rising.
âLeo?â the doctor says. âAre you doing alright?âÂ
The handler takes a step forward.
âI donât consent to this,â Leo whispers, so softly he isnât sure anyone hears him. The look the handler levels on him is scathing. âIâI knâŠknow it doesnât⊠I know it doesnât matter.â His voice is soft, slurred around the edges, but clear enough. âBut I⊠I j-justâ I want to make sure you know.â
The doctor says nothing, and the handler frowns. Leo wants to ask him to type it into his chart, but the doctor moves behind him, and Leoâs vision is suddenly and immediately blurred by his tears.Â
By the time they finish, by the time the doctor drapes the blanket over his hips, letting his hand rest on Leoâs head briefly before retreating, Leoâs body is wracked with sobs. They leave him to calm himself down, and he finds himself, for a moment, grateful for the simple mercy.
But he cannot stop crying, as he stares into the mirror and thinks of all heâs lost. Of what, in spite of what he tried to convince himself he could have, he will never have. Of Parker, laughing with his friends as he picks out a new worker. Of the handler, and all those that came before him, smiling as they hurt him. The door opens with no warning and a familiar voice, a voice warm enough to burn Leoâs entire world down, issues a commanding, clear, âStop this, Leo.âÂ
And almost instantly, Leo stops.
FIGHTER TAG LIST:
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#Med Whump#Gratuitous Med Whump#Medical Restraints#Chemical Restraints#Noncon Touch#Referenced Noncon#Parker Destin#Institutionalized Slavery#Noncon Drugging#Conditioning#Referenced Food/Water Restriction#Referenced/Described STI testing#Referenced/Described Shock Collar#Whumper POV#literally over 4k words wtf#get leo a pet fish and warm hug when?
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Demonic Features HCS (2)

Om demons HCs + Om demons x gn reader
Pt. 1 (123) | Pt. 2 (Satan, Asmo, Beel, Belphie) | Pt. 3 (Royal trio) Coming soon (again)
CW: Teeny but suggestive I think. Mostly asmoâs part if anything
A/N: THIS IMAGE IS SO FUCKING KEWYWTTTTT đđđđđ i cant w them ue i am unhealthily attached to this family goodbye world also sryy these are so long, honestly after recharging for a couple days I js started going crazy on the hcs đđ
Hcs UTC
Satan: The Unicorn
- I think he should look more beastly overall like hes some wild creature that just emerged from the forest
- His pants should look like hooves like those bellbottom esque fuzzy ish pants like

Shout out to someone in 1545 ig. Unicornis
Also spots should look more like. Horselike like speckled or splotchy
- Has two black stars and one green in the middle on his forehead
1. As a reference to Lucifer who created him and
2. A reference to how biblically unicorns were out of control beasts that could only be tamed by a virgin maiden (honestly im a lil tempted to write a fic of satan x sweet innocent reader but gn. Goodbye even)
- HES A UNICORN HE SHOULD HAVE A UNI HORN PLEAADEEE đđđ they should be a similar shape to Luciferâs but one short one and should be able to summon a longer one below where the star diamond is on his forehead is when he gets pissed enough and both should be black with green tips + it would actually make him look more vicious too
- I appreciate them making the little bow look like ribs but I think it would be much cooler if his ribs just were sticking out and wrapping around his body and they were black and green
- Ribs should also have patches of fur resembling flames where they start (near his back or at his sides)
- I also think his tail should have short rugged fur lining the outside and it should get longer at the tip; Iâm going heavy on the beast agenda I fear. He may clean up pretty well in his human form but he canât hide his sin in his demon form cmon now yâall
- Since we donât see his markings Iâm making shit up and I think his markings should be fur lining his back and arms
- Just wanna say I resemble the fur wrap thing because it kinda resembles a horse tail/mane and the gray shirt bc it resembles a rhino (What unicorns in the bible were based on I think)
- A bit insecure about you seeing his demon form tbh. Thinks he will scare you and a little afraid he might do sth heâll regret if he loses himself; he sees himself as beastly in that form, anger is a hideous emotion and he doesnât want to scare his loved ones away like he used to when he was first born and always lashed out with full force, scaring his brothers (Donât get me wrong if heâs angry heâll show it but he wont let all of his anger out at least not at once and if he has to do sth drastic heâll first isolate himself)
- Very nearsighted but refuses to get glasses and only wears them when reading (glasses are weakness)
- Bulks up a bit and gains more strength in his demon form frs
- Snarls when hes angry and sometimes sneezes in the middle of his anger often (it would be funny)
- Pact mark is only visible on your temple but internally spans throughout your veins and is not very big but grows the angrier you get post activation; that shit is freaky it can even cover your whole face and put your body in autopilot (like how anger issues people black out) if you get angry enough
- Itâs pretty wicked its first shaped like a small spade but bulges like flesh; is similar to tanjiroâs mark somewhat

- Pact mark allows him to enhance your rage by giving you some of his own (can be a pro or con depending on the situation but i mean u can just tell him to stop iykyk policy)
Asmodeus: The Scorpion
- I THINK HE SHOULD BE VAMPIRIC Feeds on sexual energy and life force yk incubus/succubus thingz but he should have the fangies too imo
- Tired of them having collars and looking prim and proper so Iâve arbitrarily decided that his shirt should conjoin with his skin and become kind of like calcharos ult for VERY loose reference; hes the avatar of lust he can be shirtless ish

- IK I SAID NTM ON THE CLOTHES BUT UGHHH Imagine if he was wearing like a robe similar to aphrodite bc its like a nod to his past as a high angel but also how heâs steeped in desire and lust. Like its being held up by the roses, sheer will and the fact that it is conjoined with his skin
- Hc that he is like cupid and can see connections between people SO I think his spine should be lined with like. Arrow-like spines
- Despite being like cupid, he finds it really hard to genuinely connect people and find someone who enjoys his presence beyond his looks and will typically avoid people on his recharge days (he likes partying and being around people but its also pretty draining keeping people entertained which is why he usually brings someone with him. I also imagine this is how he and Levi connect âI guess we arenât so different after allâ type shi)
- He should have a tail. I thought about it for a while and like. ???? Scorpions tails are like their whole thing I think he should either have a tail or towards the bottom of his spines one of them is long enough to resemble a tail (his wings are cool but like he should have a. Tail)
- Tail/spines should have venom
- I think his markings should be connected, like the hearts are good but they should be connected in like a segmented line and wrap around his arm; preferably 7 to represent the scorpions seven chamber heart
- He needs glasses too and he only wears them when they go with his outfit otherwise its contacts (which he also introduced satan to)
- He should have more eyes on his face smaller eyes below his main two that only appear when open (otherwise his face looks normal just with slight slits youâd only notice if u were REALLY staring)
- Very tolerant to weather changes. He still acts like heâs dying but he def doesnât have it as bad as Levi who is literally dying over there
- Pact mark is a tramp stamp and he wonât stop asking to see it gn. Its shaped like a hollowed heart with a design inside and becomes a spade with a similar design when activated as well as spreads a bit (as all the others do) its very classy and pretty tbh
- Activation is almost like. Erotic? It feels good but its almost like it steals the air from your lungs and makes your chest tighten; its a mix of pleasure and panic (not quite pain because it gives you urgency but not so much that it makes you want to stop) Unfortunately this isnât something that really wears off but rather wears down and just becomes leas intense as you get used to it/stronger
- Pact mark allows him to shapeshift into you and anyone who you have had a sexual or romantic encounter with
Beelzebub: The Fly
- MOUTHS ALL OVER: A mouth on his forhead where his horn comes out of and the markings spread across his body can open, revealing mouths (def gotta have some on his hands I fear. Can also change the locations of his markings and can consume things such as magical energy through his mouths
- Should be able to create a third horn in the middle of his forehead to make his horns appear like a crown (Lord of the flies had a teeny lil crown its a bit funny)
- Should have more fur aspects like his wings should have fur at the base and around the outline maybe
- His markings should be furry and the fur makes it look like theyâre black flames đ„
- Should have four wings that appear like two until he gets ready for takeoff, to which they spread out real wide
- Ik heâs a really simple guy so his design is simple too but I think heâs just missing some of that demonic flair. He should have insect arms that he can control (they might look like sticks but theyâre actually very strong and useful)
- Always wants to be around you. Always. Even though he moves insanely fast he always loops back around to match your pace
- A bit colorblind and nearsighted but is fast enough to make up for it
- Almost never gets sick but heâs usually the one who brings sickness in the house so his brothers have to make sure he cleans off before coming in đ (I imagine demons donât get sick in the traditional way but its typically some behavioral or magical illness like a common cold for suc/incubi causing like them to be less efficient in seducing humans; like how asmo has his power with his eyes maybe his vision gets blurry for a few months/years or it makes HIM fall for the person he was trying to seduce)
- Lucifer has had to ban him from the kitchen because he kept eating food that already went bad especially if he was sleepwalking
- Can make a protein shake/smoothie out of anything !!!! No matter how erm. Odd the combination
- Always rubs his hands together and licks his lips before eating a meal
- I would like to proposeâŠ.. him being in charge of the Devildom air force like how Levi is in the navyâŠ. Ik ik came outta nowhere but Flies having those big ass eyes gave me the idea to out goggles on him that look like Fly eyes and then I was like ok well what if that was for when heâs flying and here we are
- OK STAY WITH ME NOW. He used to do the equivalent of illegal drag racing but flying and Belphie would always bet on him and thats how they made food money for Beel sometimes until Lucifer shut the whole thing down after finding out bc its a bad look for Diavolo he also doesnât want his baby brother getting hurt but he wont say that (Belphie thought he was a killjoy)
- To him. It feels like wherever he goes death and despair follow and has gotten stronger and stronger so that no one close to him will ever die again (âI shouldâve been strong enough so that the safest place for her would be by my sideâ -Marius von Hagen [he makes me so emotional]) (If youâre wondering how this is related its because flies symbolize triumph over adversity as well as death and decay)
- Pact mark is right on top of your stomach (above the bellybutton) and it looks like two triskelions (three wheeled spiral) stacked over each other to create six wheels as a reference to his prior angelhood but as well as a nod to his transformation
- Activation costs you a lot of energy and it feels like youâre starving like you havenât eaten all day even if you just ate a hearty meal (you go back to normal a bit after activation but its a little maddening while its taking place)
- He can possess your body for a limited amount of time (typically only accidentally triggers this power) during this time any damage that his body takes transfers to you and vice versa (tbh this is much more risky for him than you bc his body is extremely strong so heâll only take minimal damage but itâs a gamble with you)
- He can also steal some of the nutrients from your body so um. Iâd be careful of that (he wonât ever actually do it but now that your bodies are connected he can)
Belphegor: The Cattle
- STOP SHOWING HIS FUXKINH EYE BEHIND HIS EMO HAIR/ sorry had to get that off my chest. It coulddd be something that could make him more eerie and off putting like a demon but his whole thing is that he looks cute and sweet but is actually intelligent and dangerous so maybe just. It shows in his demon form only if anything
- He should have a bell on his tail. It would be kewt. Not something he inherently has but he wags his tail in his sleep often so the brothers put it on him so they donât trip over him (he hates it but heâs too tired to gaf)
- He should be more fuzzy too like having his right arm have an arm warmer rather than that sleeve that doesnât even look connected like. Also theres a mix of fuzz and thorns on his person. Itâs a gamble. Proceed with caution.
- His boots should be more like hooves kinda like what I said for satan but boots and more comfy looking
- They were way too shy with his cow spots imo. I think it should almost look like he has vitiligo (but with more melanin rather than less yk)
- HE SHOULD HAVE A LITTLE EARRING THAT LOOKS LIKE THE CATTLE TAG
- Got a nose piercing (septum I think?) after learning about piercings in the human world but doesnât use it much anymore
- Nitpicky but I think his horns should end while sticking forward rather than curling out all the way to resemble a bull thats ready to charge
- Appreciating the fact that he has four belts likely to represent the four chambers of cowsâ stomachs
- Separation anxiety victim NUMBER ONE. Especially after Lilith died heâs gotten so anxious being without his loved ones and never really wants to leave their sides bc he never knows when theyâll be gone
- He is Beelâs eyes and probably has the best vision in the family tbh 25/20 vision fr
- A lil colorblind though; affects his drawings and when levi asks him to doodle with him he always uses a unique set of colors (hes grabbing at them randomly)
- Likes to just watch his brothers socialize and be with them. An observer in his own home. The only reason he gets out of bed everyday is to see the people he cares about most
- Likes silly little puzzles, games and toys like rubix cubes and bouncy balls n shi but gets annoyed if you just give it to him and expect him to play by himself like !!!!! Keep him company !!!!!!!!!
- When he was trapped in the attic Lucifer would sometimes bring him enrichment toys and fill him in on current news or just sit there in silence to keep him company while turned away from him (If he looks at him too long he might fold and let him out; he loves his brother but. He thinks this is what needs to be done)
- Pact mark is on your thigh probably snug on the inside and whenever heâs laying on your lap he looks at it and maybe traces it before drifting off
- It probably looks like a symbol of a moon or spiral inside of a sun representing the midnight sun and the neutrality of the sloth sin (a sun that never rises or sets)
- Can sap your energy and make you see hallucinations or make you want to sleep; can probably put you in hibernation as long as it doesnât hurt you and can eat your nightmares # dreamcatcher
#levi obey me#obey me headcanons#satan obey me#obey me asmodeus#obey me belphegor#obey me#asmodeus x reader#obey me asmo x reader#obey me satan x reader#satan x reader#obey me beelzebub#obey me beel x reader#beelzebub x reader#belphie x reader#belphegor x reader#obey me x reader#lucifer obey me#obey me mammon#mammon x reader#lucifer x reader#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me mephistopheles#obey me demon brothers#om nightbringer#om#om demons#part three coming soooo nnnnn
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Praying Drunk
Our Father who art in heaven, I am drunk.
Again. Red wine. For which I offer thanks.
I ought to start with praise, but praise
comes hard to me. I stutter. Did I tell you
about the woman whom I taught, in bed,
this prayer? It starts with praise; the simple form
keeps things in order. I hear from her sometimes.
Do you? And after love, when I was hungry,
I said, Make me something to eat. She yelled,
Poof! Youâre a casserole!âand laughed so hard
she fell out of the bed. Take care of her.
Next, confessionâthe dreary part. At night
deer drift from the dark woods and eat my garden.
Theyâre like enormous rats on stilts except,
of course, theyâre beautiful. But why? What makes
them beautiful? I havenât shot one yet.
I might. When I was twelve, Iâd ride my bike
out to the dump and shoot the rats. Itâs hard
to kill your rats, our Father. You have to use
a hollow point and hit them solidly.
A leg is not enough. The rat wonât pause.
Yeep! Yeep! it screams, and scrabbles, three-legged, back
into the trash, and I would feel a little bad
to kill something that wants to live
more savagely than I do, even if
itâs just a rat. My gardenâs vanishing.
Perhaps Iâll merely plant more beans, though that
might mean more beautiful and hungry deer.
Who knows?
Iâm sorry for the times Iâve driven
home past a black, enormous, twilight ridge.
Crested with mist, it looked like a giant wave
about to break and sweep across the valley,
and in my loneliness and fear Iâve thought,
O let it come and wash the whole world clean.
Forgive me. This is my favorite sin: despairâ
whose love I celebrate with wine and prayer.
Our Father, thank you for all the birds and trees,
that nature stuff. Iâm grateful for good health,
food, air, some laughs, and all the other things
Iâm grateful that Iâve never had to do
without. I have confused myself. Iâm glad
thereâs not a rattrap large enough for deer.
While at the zoo last week, I sat and wept
when I saw one elephant insert his trunk
into anotherâs ass, pull out a lump,
and whip it back and forth impatiently
to free the goodies hidden in the lump.
I could have let it mean most anything,
but I was stunned again at just how little
we ask for in our lives. Donât look! Donât look!
Two young nuns tried to herd their giggling
schoolkids away. Line up, they called. Letâs go
and watch the monkeys in the monkey house.
I laughed, and got a dirty look. Dear Lord,
we lurch from metaphor to metaphor,
which isâlet it be soâa form of praying.
Iâm usually asleep by nowâthe time
for supplication. Requests. As if Iâd stayed
up late and called the radio and asked
they play a sentimental song. Embarrassed.
I want a lot of money and a woman.
And, also, I want vanishing cream. You knowâ
a character like Popeye rubs it on
and disappears. Although you see right through him,
heâs there. He chuckles, stumbles into things,
and smoke thatâs clearly visible escapes
from his invisible pipe. It makes me think,
sometimes, of you. What makes me think of me
is the poor jerk who wanders out on air
and then looks down. Below his feet, he sees
eternity, and suddenly his shoes
no longer work on nothingness, and down
he goes. As I fall past, remember me.
- Andrew Hudgins
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How do you color in your art?? I can never make mine look right, iâm still relatively new to procreate and I just wish I could instantly know how to use it because AGEGGS
I don't use Procreate and I'm not sure what you're personally having problems with, so I'll just go through my process using some of my old drawings and try to give some general advice that might help
So I have the line work of "Hunter wants pancakes" here. I usually copy images from screenshots of the show and paste them onto the canvas so that I can eyedrop the colors, but I probably had it on a different canvas there.
Sometimes I'll change the colors a little bit for clothes to make them a bit brighter or less saturated (depends on what I think looks better), but really for fan art of characters that already have a color scheme, I just copy the colors.
But your line work is going to be your topmost layer the majority of the time. All the coloring stuff should be underneath the line work so that if you do color into the lines, the linework isn't impeded
I typically put all my colors on the same layer, but feel free to use layers in whatever way is more convenient for you. (When I'm doing lineless, I'll typically make a new layer for each color so that I can shade them individually later on. Idk if that's at all smart or convenient but it's just a thought)
As for the actual act of coloring, I pick a large, textureless brush. You could use whatever you want depending on what kind of look you're going for, but for my finished pieces I usually like the coloring job to look cartoonishly clean. Like you can see that the second brush changes opacity as it reaches the end of the stroke (or with lighter pressure, since I use a pen), which I don't want, since I prefer the colors to be uniform in shade and texture. So I use the first one instead. Also less texture helps keep the color in the lines from my experience.
I don't use the paint bucket tool very often because it typically won't fill in all the white space, especially when your work is more detailed (which would lead you to have to go back and go over all of the edges again with a brush anyway), so I color most everything manually now. But for "Hunter wants pancakes" I think I did use a paint bucket and then probably went back to fill in some of the gaps since there are clean white gaps where the line work would be.
That is to say you should color with your line work visible (I don't know who wouldn't but I'm trying to cover all the bases here). You made yourself a coloring page, now you get to enjoy it. Without the lines it can look pretty silly and very messy, but it doesn't really matter if it's going to be covered up by your line work anyway.
Sometimes when you're coloring with lighter shades on a light background, it's hard to tell if you're missing a spot. I like to use a really REALLY saturated color like neon green or red to see any gaps in the color. Put the layer of neon green under the color layer and it will become very obvious where you missed haha. Sometimes I'll look at the neon color for too long and will need to change it to refresh my eyes
This colored sketch isn't very clean but it shows that you can also make a clipping or masking layer (if you don't know what that is the Internet could honestly probably explain it better than I could), color over the whole thing with a different color, and lower the opacity to give it a cool-looking tint
I don't know what your specific issue was but hopefully I was able to clear at least something up for you
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âYou know their coffee is dreadful,â Orana informs him as her fingers carefully slide over the gash in his jacket. Sheâs finally gotten it clean which means mending is the next step so a proper assessment needs to be made, âAnd I have liberati papers now. They arenât real mind you but Ser Tarquin says theyâll hold up to most scrutiny since Danarius isnât alive to dispute them.â
Itâs how most of her afternoons go, she brings Varric up to date with whatever heâs missed most recently. Trivial things, because sheâs certain that Lady Maevaris keeps him up to date on more tactical information when she sits with him in the morning. She tells him that Maevaris suggested finding her a mabari pup after she mentioned how she missed Old Loup. That she would pay for it if Orana stopped calling her Lady, since theyâre family and all. Orana asks his opinions on names, because she has to be sure it has a good name before she even considers saying yes. She almost says it will make waiting for him a little less lonely but that feels like an omen she doesnât quite want to give words to.
So she tilts the topic, the Shadow Dragons like her idea for a school for liberati, even if they acknowledge the difficulties of setting one up in an official capacity. One of the shadow dragons suggests a sort of night class, perhaps disguised as prayer groups near the chantry. Orana is working on a curriculum, all the things she wished someone had taught her sooner when she was first freed.
So it goes, Orana spends nearly two weeks keeping him appraised on whatever rumors and gossip she overhearsâbecause Varric is a horrible gossip so she hopes it might make him feel better. All while clever fingers slowly mend his coat to a more than serviceable state. Itâs not quite good as new, the lining is still stained and the patch only as seamless as she can make it without access to the original leather. Itâs a good color match though, hardly visible from a distance.
A bit like Varric, when she lingers in the doorway she can almost pretend heâs only sleeping. Itâs when sheâs sitting next to him, her small hand dwarfed by his larger ones that she can see the sickly pallor of his skin that brings out the worst of his features. Creases that look jovial while heâs awake twisted when he sometimes thrashes in his sleep. His frown lines carved deeper than his smile lines, Orana very much hates it.
She smooths them over when she can, talking helps even if she has no idea if he actually understands it or if the familiar voice is just soothing. She bets that Hawkeâs voice would wake him right up, but she doesnât remember it well enough to try an imitation.
So she waits, Orana is good at waiting.
@extravagantliar
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We Go Together | Homelander x You | Chapter 22

Note: This chapter contains explicit sexual content.
Taglist: @hom3landr @theaudacitytowrite @lover1307
âSo is it true?â you ask suddenly.
Youâre seated on the sofa in Black Noirâs living room as John scrounges together dinner for the two of you. And it really is scrounging â it is blatantly obvious that John was never taught to operate a microwave, a truth that is simultaneously tragic and funny by virtue of being so fucked up.
Still, you can tell he is making a genuine effort, just like you could tell by the way he laid out clean clothes for you and bundled you up in a blanket before starting on dinner. Even though he hardly knows how, John is doing his best to take special care of you in the aftermath of your captivity.
In the kitchen, John freezes at the sound of your words. After what Vogelbaum had said to you back at the lab, he knew it would only be a matter of time before you asked a question like this. And, frankly, it terrified him because, once he tells you about all the shit heâs done⊠what if you donât like him anymore?
John forces himself to take a deep breath before he turns to face you. He made a promise that he would never, EVER, lie to you, no holds barred, flaws and all â and, by God, he is going to abide by it.
âIs what true?â John responds, answering your question with a question.
âWell⊠Jonah Vogelbaum said you killed a lot people,â you say, seeing John visibly wince at your words. âIs that true?â
The captain of The Seven walks around the kitchen island, enters the living room, and sits down on the couch alongside you. After a long moment he answers, âYes, itâs true.â
âH-how many?â you ask, your heart rate beginning to pick up as Johnâs words sink in. What if you escaped one danger just to end up faced with another? And you donât feel any better when his next words are,
âI have no fucking idea.â At this, John puts his face in his hands. âToo many⊠way too goddamn many. Sometimes I lose my temper in the heat of the moment, like today⊠but usually itâs an accident.â
Usually? you think to yourself. Thereâs a âusualâ way he kills people?! Forcing yourself to push down your panicked thoughts until you get all the facts, you ask, âWhat kind of accident?â
The Supe bows his head silently, eyes shut as he revisits memory after painful memory. After a beat of silence John says, âLike one time, in th-in the Bad Room⊠I tried to give my teacher a hug, but I⊠I squeezed too tightly. I broke her spine, and sh-she died.â
âJesus Christ!â you blurt out. âAnd none of this was ever made public?â
âOf course not!â answers John with a mirthless laugh. âNo matter how many people Voughtâs Supes hurt, the company doesnât fucking care⊠anything to protect that bottom line.â
It wasnât just Mom and Dad, you realize now. For decades, Voughtâs been covering up the crimes of the company AND its employees. They have been selling the American public on a lie, when all along they cared more about profits than people.
And John might be the best (or worst) example of all â raised in a lab, by people with no conscience, tortured and desensitized to the value of human life. Americaâs favorite hero, with the potential to become the entire worldâs greatest enemy.
But itâs only potential. You see that now, by the way heâs risked life and limb to protect one life â yours. The way heâs tried so hard to make you feel comfortable and safe, and the way heâs sitting next to you now with his head buried into his hands, body shuddering as waves of emotion crash over his shoulders.
âI want to be different, Y/N,â John says now, in a near-whisper. âI donât want to be that person anymore.â
And with every fiber of your being, you know heâs telling the truth â you believe him. So you outstretch your hand and place it on Johnâs knee. The Supe lowers his hands and looks over at you, his expression changing rapidly from fearful to hopeful to wistful and back.
âWell, I have good news,â you say. âItâs not too late for you to start over.â
âWith you?â John asks, the vulnerability in his voice cutting, like a chainsaw to the heart.
âYes, with me,â you reply, offering a small smile. âLike you said, we go together, right?â [continued on AO3]
#ao3 writer#fanfic#the homelander#homelander the boys#homelander x you#homelander x reader#homelander x y/n#homelander#the boys tv#the boys#the boys smut#the boys fanfic#the boys amazon
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A continuation of my Rhea Ripley x lady!reader fic.
Warnings for this section: Dirty talk
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Absolute Smokeshow (Part 28 of ?): Siren Song (Caught In A Riptide)
Drying yourself off, you walk over to your closet to put on another outfit. Securing the towel over your chest, you use both hands to peruse your selection of clean clothes, smiling as you glance at your bandaged knuckles. Thinking of Rhea, you listen to the steady sound of the shower for a moment and swear you can hear faint singing. You shake your head, now concerned you hadnât slept as well as youâd thought and might be hearing things as a result.
Grabbing a few things you thought would look good together, you turn to set them on your bed so you can get dressed carefully. By the time youâre fully clothed, the sound of the water has stopped and youâre sure you hear something this time. You walk past the bathroom door, listening intently and manage to catch Rhea singing âsweet dreams are made of this.â Suddenly, the handle begins to turn and you scramble over to sit on the couch, wincing at the pain as you habitually try to cross your ankles.
The singing had stopped as soon as the door opened, changing instead to humming for a few bars as Rhea rounded the corner. Wrapped in a towel, hair still dripping, she sees you and immediately walks over to give you a kiss.
âHow are you feeling?â she was referring to your injuries, but you decided to share more.
âLucky to have spent the last few days together,â - you give her a kiss - âless than thrilled that youâre leaving, but overall? So happy to know Iâm going to see you again, eventually.â
Rhea smiles, leaning in for a kiss you pucker your lips for, but lands on your nose instead.
âI meant your hand and ankle,â she says, genuine concern on her face, âAre the bandages too tight?â
âTheyâre perfect,â you assure her, âThank you.â
Rhea visibly relaxes and gives you one more peck before walking over to her suitcase. Your eyes follow her as she crouches in front of the mess of clothes, looking for something to wear for the day.
âMight as well give up the search now,â you say, feeling clever, âI guarantee thereâs nothing in there thatâll make you look better than you do naked.â
Rhea playfully threw a shirt in your direction, making you giggle as it landed nearby. After laying out a few pieces of clothing, she let her towel fall in one smooth motion, winking as you watch her.
âUnfair,â you complain in response to her wiggling her hips, a slightly sadistic grin on her face. Fidgeting with your phone, you decide to ask, âMind if I get a picture? I donât have any nudes of yours.â
âGo for it,â Rhea says, posing for you. Opening your camera app, you snap a photo, biting your lip. Looking up from the phone, you realize that, gorgeous as she was on camera, the image couldnât possibly compare to reality.
After she was dressed, Rhea took out a makeup bag and sat next to you on the couch.
âMusic?â you offer, setting it up once you get a nod in response. Sitting back down, you stretch out on the couch, legs laying across Rheaâs lap. She gives your thigh a gentle squeeze before continuing with her routine. Looking on, you were impressed with how quickly she put the look together - though not entirely surprised she was so good with her hands. What struck you most was the speed and steadiness with which she did her eyeliner, movements lining up to the beat of the music. The space on her cheek she usually saved to represent the Judgment Day or Dominik was instead given a small heart this time, making yours skip a beat.
âYouâre looking at me like I just performed some kind of magic,â Rhea laughs once sheâs done, seeing your baffled expression.
âDo you mean to tell me that what you just did wasnât witchcraft?â you ask, half joking. Youâd never done makeup that good that quickly before.
âItâs what I do most days,â she says, shrugging, âNot that big a deal.â
âYouâre going to have to teach me sometime,â you say, still impressed.
âOr I could just do your makeup,â she counters, smiling.
A very particular image appeared in your mind of you lying down on the bed, Rhea straddling your lap, face just above yours. Having to stay perfectly still with her on top of you, her eyes never leaving your face as she did your makeup.
âBoth?â you ask hopefully, making her laugh.
âSounds like a good excuse to look at you more,â Rhea says in a voice that makes you melt.
âHow much time to we have?â you check, wondering what you might be able to get away with before she has to leave.
âShould start heading to the airport in less than an hour,â Rhea sighs, looking at the time, groaning, âGuess I should start stuffing all my shit back in the suitcase.â
âLet me help,â you offer, standing up, âI can gather up all the kinky items from my bedroom.â
âGood girl,â she says, reminding you of every other time she had said it and making you shiver, âDo it quick enough and we might have time to continue what we started in the shower.â
[end part twenty-eight of ?]
Part 29: https://www.tumblr.com/specialinterestshows/726219197322035200/absolute-smokeshow-part-29-of-good-bi-for
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Tag List (thank you!)
@cherryberryshine , @littlemiss-fanficlover , @elisewithak , @babybatlover , @girlofpink
#wwe fanfiction#the judgment day#the judgement day#rhea ripley#rhea ripley x reader#rhea ripley x dominik mysterio#lady!reader#specialinterestshows presents#absolute smokeshow
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Randomly Generated Haikyuu Character #50: Sakishima Isumi
Date drawn: September 29, 2023
I believe this is our second Nohebi player from the list? I was actually looking at his wiki just now and realized that Sakishima has the same birthday as my college roommate from last year, thatâs pretty interesting
Screenshot redraw, comparison and my thoughts under the cut!


Iâm not really sure why but thereâs something I really like about Sakishimaâs design. Heâs not a character I particularly like or have an attachment to but for some reason it just itches this very specific part of my brain
Sometimes when working on these I realize Iâm starting to cave into my perfectionism obsessions more than I want to and so I have to let some of them be messy or be less cleaned up or sketchy so that itâs enforced in my brain that I can make art that isnât perfect and still put it out there for people to see and enjoy. Thatâs why you might notice my construction lines are more visible on some of these, especially if I do several in a relatively short amount of time
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12 and 16 for the fanfic writer's asks!
12. How does receiving or not receiving feedback/support impact you?
I am definitely susceptible to both! Having someone interested in and excited about a story makes me a lot more eager to work on it, and that sound of crickets chirping will convince me that it's not worth it (although it can take longer to get through with some stories than others--a lot also depends on how excited and invested I am in a story or idea myself, naturally).
16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?
So one reason I feel slow as a writer sometimes is that I can pretty much never just write one thing, unless it's very short. I'm always juggling several, and trying to force myself to focus on one thing rarely works well. So I'm currently working away on the next chapter of When Two Become One, and a followup to England and Nowhere (Never and Always) (and thinking about what other followup(s) I might want to write), and the next story of Never Refuse You, and the smol/de-aged Dream story, and what was meant to be a quick little PWP that is dragging its feet, and after a chat with a friend tonight I'm rotating a new kinky Dreamling idea in my brain...
Anyway! Here, I'll share a bit from Chapter 4 of When Two Become One, in which 1489 Hob gets a slightly different reaction despite being very fundamentally the same 1489 Hob we know and love...
Dream asked Hob what he himself had been doing, this hundred years, and after airily summarizing what must have been decades of his life as "soldiering, mainly" and "a little banditry here and there" he began to speak about his new line of work. "It's called printing," Hob said, as if the mass reproduction of text were not the most exciting development this part of the world had seen in hundreds of years, as if it had not figured in the wildest dreams of the brightest minds for generations. "Don't need to be a guild member, not yet," Hob went on, as if the sheer attainability of the work mattered more than the wondrousness of the development he was playing a role in. "Never be a real demand for it," Hob went on, full of the confidence of a man who was utterly wrong, "and it's hard work, but--" Dream entirely lost the end of whatever absurdly idiotic thing Hob was saying, caught up in the horrible realization that, one the one hand, his husband was as foolish as he was cheerful, and very literally on the other hand, the black flecks visible here and there on Hob's well-scrubbed skin were ink. These were the marks of stories that had gotten quite literally under Hob's skin, because he was engaged in the most important, beautiful work anyone on this continent was doing in this century. Dream wanted to kiss him so badly it hurt--and if he did, then Hob would stop talking. Hob had trailed off into silence and was watching him with wide eyes, a flush starting to rise on his clean-shaven cheeks.
[Fanfic writer ask meme questions here!]
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She's holding him on a leash in public, the leash is attached to a collar around his neck but the scene isn't sexual. Whether or not they are getting gratification from this is simply not visible; they don't appear to be revelling in attentionâthe morality of such asideâthey are visibly doing their own thing.
In the comments of a post someone pipes up a highly anticipated response. âPeople in public didn't consent to your scene! ...â and continues with its inane repetition of puritan propaganda translated in to therapyspeak.
âNobody consented to seeing your comment, and yet here you are.â says another.
I want to answer, but the comment is years old; at this point it's better to fall on nebulous ears rather than to be shot at any particular target.
So I'd say,
Do you also believe people wearing cat ears and tails are preforming public sex acts because they (people wearing tails and ears) are akin to furries andâgod forbidâsome of them get off to it? Choose carefully now; children of their own accord and volition wear these things, and mascots are widely deemed family friendly.
Did you know suit fetishes are a thing? Well they are, and I know many people that have them. Does this fact make suits sexual too now? Is a professional conference a sex act to you because of this? And, if it's not, why is this different to you?
Can you not comprehend the idea that something can be inherently neutral and it's our approach and our feelings that paint the tone of their usage in any given circumstance? Is it totally beyond you that people can fill their glass with a variety of feelings and reactions for a variety of reasons and that they don't owe it to you to beam it in your head instantly and telepathically nor to hide from society all because Joe Random might get a bit squicked and callâhowever ineffectivelyâto summon a mob?
You might think me obtuse but sincerely, where do you draw the line. Perhaps he needs domineering to be alright; any sexual association if present could have come after that need, to deal with the vicious self-loathing that came with being a grown ass man with socially unacceptable needs. Or maybe it started as a sexual thing because his subconscious couldn't convince him to allow himself what he needed if he didn't feel like he simply wanted it. Or maybe it's totally nonsexual. Or maybe it's more complicated.
Or maybe it doesn't matter and you should mind your godamned business, if only because what you have been taught or lead to believe or otherwise convinced yourself was an inherently sexual act does not actually involve any of the direct acts that constitute sex inherently.
And in allowing yourself to believe otherwise you justify to yourself adding your power to the reinforcement of the censorship of human beings existing as they are.
And in doing so you forget yourself, you forget the rainbow flag in your icon and it's history. You forget the fight queers have fought and continue to fight to not have our existence viewed as inherently sexual as a means to scrub us out of public spaces.
We're QUEER because we're WEIRD. To say âWe're HERE and we're QUEERâ is to say our existence is WEIRD TO YOU but YOU'VE JUST GOTTA DEAL WITH IT.
You cannot simply sweep away âdegenerates of societyâ, and you sound no different to me than the guy that openly states that and, if anything, you're less self-awareâand that's more dangerous because you'll share your beliefs with people as though your words come from a place of concern rather than reactive disgust you're failing to control.
So I'll humble you with a reminder that if you feel comfortable assigning non-sexual things as sexual purely because you know that sometimes or even usually it is involved in sex, that this will arguably be true of your interests too no matter how ""clean"" they seem to you. Someonelse could argue that you're a public sex freak for simply being who you are, and you contribute to this issue by helping spread this ideology.
Because it's also not that different from the arguements that make me feel violently uncomfortable being crippled in public either; I see how people react. Do you think they should be able to remove me too, just because I make them a little uncomfortable?
Try thinking for yourself for a change; start by asking yourself why these words are really leaving your mouth and where they came from. Is this really who you want to be?
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Vladleen Photo | Lyphuriaa
Isn't Lulu so cute?? She probably had to beg for days to convince Vlad to make such a cheesy gestureâŠ
God this one was especially hard, not really because of what I was drawing but because of how. It made me learn about a bazillion things not to repeat ever again.
All things considered though, it came out pretty good! I wanted to give up so many times and there were so many catastrophes I'm really surprised in how clean it looks.
I'm even more surprised that I was able to push through and bring it to the finish despite it all, it's something to celebrate ;-;
A lil' summary of what this piece taught me —
I really need to study the rest of the human anatomy. The legs were difficult, the feet too. I only realize this now because I mostly draw torsos and simple poses. Also, first time I draw characters interacting â it was fun but it's really something I need to practice more!
If I plan on using the sketch as lineart, please for the love of God use an opaque brush. The amount of time I spent fixing the lineart because it was semi-transparent, I might as well have drawn 3 layers of proper lineart.
Keep an eye on the background color. Because of some transparency stuff, I didn't realize some parts of the drawing only looked right with the current bg color â so when I thought I was done and changed it, I stared in horror at the ugly artifacts all around the drawing. It was painful to fix.
Sometimes it's easier to just draw over the sketch, taking the lines I like, instead of cleaning it up. Because using the sketch layer â especially with an opacity brush â leaves around a ton of barely visible artifacts. I had to "select opaque" to see them and clear them out, and it was also painful.
Generally, going into a drawing without a plan for what style it's gonna be is a bad idea and results in a lot of problems down the line.
Better fix any problems I have with the drawing as early as possible, because I'll end up fixing it anyway, only if I'm too far in the process it'll cost me more time.
I need to stop drawing too detailed an anatomy if I know it's gonna get covered by clothes anyway⊠T-T
Phew, I'm still shocked that I managed to make a decent piece even after all these problems. Somehow I feel pretty good about it, I think the joy of seeing it finished made all my bad experience with it go away.
It's great, especially since I've been struggling a lot with self-doubt about my creative projects recently; this shows me that no matter how crappy something seems to be, if only I push through and finish it, all that bad energy turns into incredibly good feelings of accomplishment and pride.
Hope that's useful; now I really want to make a mini story game and see how it turns outâŠ
#lulullia#artists on tumblr#art#lyphuriaa#vladleen#illustration#cel shaded#drawing#i feel good about it
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How Do I Know If My Roof Has Been Properly Installed?
A roof is more than just a collection of shingles or metal panelsâit's your home's first line of defense. When it's done right, you barely think about it. But if something's off? You'll know soon enough. The question is, how do you tell if your roof was installed properly before leaks, drafts, or worse start showing up?
Let's break it down in a way that's easy to understand (and a little less stressful).
Signs of a Well-Installed Roof
Before we get into what can go wrong, letâs talk about what a properly installed roof should look and feel like. Whether youâve got asphalt shingles, metal panels, or skylights installed, these are the green flags:
Everything looks even and uniform â No random bumps, dips, or mismatched materials.
Shingles (or panels) are secured tightly â They shouldnât be curling, shifting, or lifting.
Flashing is sealed properly â These thin metal pieces around chimneys, vents, and skylights should sit snug with no visible gaps.
Gutters and downspouts are in place â If your drainage system isnât set up right, even the best roofing job wonât save you from water damage.
The attic stays dry and well-ventilated â No musty smells, damp insulation, or frost buildup.
If everything above checks out, youâre in good shape. But if something seems off, it might be time to take a closer look.
Common Red Flags That Point to a Bad Roofing Job
Even if your roof looks fine at first glance, hidden mistakes can cause major headaches down the road. Here are some warning signs that could indicate improper installation:
1. Uneven or Misaligned Shingles
Your shingles should be in straight, even rows. If they look off-kilter or staggered in a strange way, it could mean the contractor didnât follow proper installation techniques. Poor alignment can lead to weak spots, making your roof more vulnerable to leaks and wind damage.
2. Exposed Nails or Improper Fastening
Nails should be driven in straight and flush with the shingleânot sticking out or sunk in too deep. Exposed nails are a huge no-go because they create direct pathways for water to seep in. If you see a bunch of nail heads exposed on your roof, thatâs a sign the job wasnât done right.
3. Sagging Rooflines
A brand-new roof should have clean, crisp lines. If you notice any sagging or dipping areas, it could mean thereâs an issue with the underlying structure or improper support. Thatâs a big red flag that needs to be addressed ASAP.
4. Shingles Lifting or Peeling
If your shingles are curling at the edges or lifting up, they werenât sealed properly. This can happen when the adhesive strip isnât activated correctly (usually due to rushed or careless installation). Strong winds can easily rip off poorly secured shingles, leaving your roof exposed.
5. Water Stains Inside Your Home
Leaks donât always show up as water dripping from the ceiling. Sometimes, they appear as stains on your walls or ceilings. If you notice new water spots, thereâs a good chance something went wrong with the roofing job.
6. Improper Flashing Around Vents, Chimneys, or Skylights
Flashing is what keeps water from sneaking into the vulnerable spots on your roof. If it looks loose, wrinkled, or unfinished, thatâs a problem. Poorly installed flashing can lead to leaks, rot, and expensive repairs.
How Metal Roofing and Skylights Change the Game
Now, if you went with a metal roof, the installation process is a little differentâbut the same basic principles apply. Metal panels should be securely fastened, properly overlapped, and sealed at every connection point. Gaps or improper screw placement can lead to leaks, rust, and premature wear.
Skylights, on the other hand, require extra precision. The biggest issue with a bad skylight installation? Leaks. If flashing and waterproofing arenât done right, youâll have water sneaking into your home every time it rains. A well-installed skylight should be airtight, with no visible gaps around the edges.
What to Do If You Suspect Poor Installation
So, what if your roof has some of these warning signs? Hereâs how to handle it:
Check your warranty â A reputable roofing company will stand behind their work. If somethingâs wrong, see if your installation is covered.
Get a professional inspection â A roofing expert can assess the situation and tell you exactly whatâs going on.
Address issues early â Small problems can turn into major damage if left unchecked. Donât wait until you have a full-blown leak to take action.
Choosing a Trustworthy Roofing Contractor
The best way to avoid roofing nightmares? Hire a contractor who knows what theyâre doing from the start. A quality roofing company will:
Have a strong reputation and plenty of positive reviews
Be licensed and insured
Offer detailed estimates and transparent pricing
Use high-quality materials and proper installation techniques
Stand behind their work with solid warranties
If you're in the market for a reliable roofing contractor, Lastime Exteriors has you covered. Whether you need a residential metal roof, asphalt shingles, skylight installation, or repairs, their team ensures every project is done right the first time.
Don't wait until problems show upâmake sure your roof is built to last!
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Praying Drunk
by Andrew Hudgins
Our Father who art in heaven, I am drunk. Again. Red wine. For which I offer thanks. I ought to start with praise, but praise comes hard to me. I stutter. Did I tell you about the woman whom I taught, in bed, this prayer? It starts with praise; the simple form keeps things in order. I hear from her sometimes. Do you? And after love, when I was hungry, I said, Make me something to eat. She yelled, Poof! Youâre a casserole!âand laughed so hard she fell out of the bed. Take care of her. Next, confessionâthe dreary part. At night deer drift from the dark woods and eat my garden. Theyâre like enormous rats on stilts except, of course, theyâre beautiful. But why? What makes them beautiful? I havenât shot one yet. I might. When I was twelve, Iâd ride my bike out to the dump and shoot the rats. Itâs hard to kill your rats, our Father. You have to use a hollow point and hit them solidly. A leg is not enough. The rat wonât pause. Yeep! Yeep! it screams, and scrabbles, three-legged, back into the trash, and I would feel a little bad to kill something that wants to live more savagely than I do, even if itâs just a rat. My gardenâs vanishing. Perhaps Iâll merely plant more beans, though that might mean more beautiful and hungry deer. Who knows? Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Iâm sorry for the times Iâve driven home past a black, enormous, twilight ridge. Crested with mist, it looked like a giant wave about to break and sweep across the valley, and in my loneliness and fear Iâve thought, O let it come and wash the whole world clean. Forgive me. This is my favorite sin: despairâ whose love I celebrate with wine and prayer. Our Father, thank you for all the birds and trees, that nature stuff. Iâm grateful for good health, food, air, some laughs, and all the other things Iâm grateful that Iâve never had to do without. I have confused myself. Iâm glad thereâs not a rattrap large enough for deer. While at the zoo last week, I sat and wept when I saw one elephant insert his trunk into anotherâs ass, pull out a lump, and whip it back and forth impatiently to free the goodies hidden in the lump. I could have let it mean most anything, but I was stunned again at just how little we ask for in our lives. Donât look! Donât look! Two young nuns tried to herd their giggling schoolkids away. Line up, they called. Letâs go and watch the monkeys in the monkey house. I laughed, and got a dirty look. Dear Lord, we lurch from metaphor to metaphor, which isâlet it be soâa form of praying. Iâm usually asleep by nowâthe time for supplication. Requests. As if Iâd stayed up late and called the radio and asked they play a sentimental song. Embarrassed. I want a lot of money and a woman. And, also, I want vanishing cream. You knowâ a character like Popeye rubs it on and disappears. Although you see right through him, heâs there. He chuckles, stumbles into things, and smoke thatâs clearly visible escapes from his invisible pipe. It makes me think, sometimes, of you. What makes me think of me is the poor jerk who wanders out on air and then looks down. Below his feet, he sees eternity, and suddenly his shoes no longer work on nothingness, and down he goes. As I fall past, remember me.
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Scars - (Carl Grimes)
Masterlist !! Taglist !!
Summary: Reader helps Carl clean his eye wound after discovering he couldn't bring himself to do it.
Word Count: 1.3k Pairing: None A/N: Forewarning, this story is very conversation heavy, tbh I wrote it for myself so I wasn't really thinking about that stuff. Hope you enjoy anyways! -S404 !! Trigger Warning: Mention of scars (Presumed but not mentioned that they're the result of physical abuse) !!
You open the door to the Grimesâ house to see Michonne smiling and Judith bubbling away in the kitchen, both organising the pantry. âHey Y/N! what can I do for you?â Michonne called out, diverting her attention from Judith and her shenanigans. âNot much today, I was just here to see if Carl was home? I haven't seen him around today,â you felt bad, coming for him and no one else. âOh yeah! Heâs up in his room, donât know exactly what heâs up to right now though,â Michonne tried to respond whilst stopping Judith from eating raw ingredients. âThanks Michonne, weâve gotta catch up properly sometime soon, I feel as if I donât see enough of you anymore.â It was true, you spent most of your time out on runs or with Carl. Michonne was one of your best friends, and you saw less and less of her every day. âYeah definitely Y/N, maybe sometime next week, I'll leave Judy with Olivia and we can have a coffee!â Michonne replied, enthusiastic. âSounds great, Iâll be on my way now but let me know when you have that free day.â You felt as though you were disrupting something, as Judith continued to cause havoc for Michonne to attempt to prevent.
âSee ya Y/N!" Michonne cheered from her position in the kitchen. âBye Michonne! Bye Judith!â You said, waving and blowing raspberries at the 4 year old.
~
You swiftly walked up the stairs, making your way to the door of the Grimes you know best. Approaching the vacantly silent room you knock. âItâs me!â You call out although unnecessary, heâd open the door even if he didn't recognise your voice. âYeah, uh, come in.â You take the offer and open the door. Seeing the empty-presenced room, you follow through to the bathroom, leaning on the door frame, looking at the familiar face in the mirror. Just as a smile begins to form on your face, you see the distress on the one in front of you. âOh, not a good day?â You ask, your brows furrowing just enough for the three lines he loved so much (for a reason unknown to man) to appear. âYou could say that.â He said, avoiding eye contact. âTalk to me, Mr Grimes.â You venture, leering for an answer. âItâs nothing much, just some dust and dirt got under the bandage. Now I have to clean it to 'avoid infection' or something, that's what Carson said." It may have been a satisfactory answer, but you knew better than that. âSo- Whatâs so bad about that?â You ask, becoming more curious than sympathetic. âI just uh, I donât think I can look at myself with it off-â He finally gave in. âOh.â You replied, unsure of what to say, not having given any prior thought to the fact he might have felt that way.
~ A few moments passed before you had collected yourself enough to speak again. âHow long have you been staring in that mirror for?â You ask. Still curious, but feeling immense pity for the boy. He turns around to look at you, appearing defeated, âtoo long.â âI could do it for you if youâd like, away from the mirror?â You offered your help. âI couldnât ask you to do that.â He replied with a sense of urgency. You couldn't tell if he was rejecting your help because he genuinely thought it was something you shouldn't have to do or see, or if he just didn't want to open up to the vulnerability of the process. âYes you could. Itâs still bothering you isnât it? Taking it off?â You urged. âI donât know. Iâve just, never really taken it off for anyone before,â he replied, becoming more open by the second. You were aware he was uncomfortable having his missing eye visible to other people, even you hadn't ever really seen it before. However you weren't aware the problem stemmed this far back, had he even seen it off before? âYou wouldnât be taking it off for me. Plus, it needs to be cleaned, thatâs not really an optional thing.â You sought his approval, longing for him to find the smallest bit of inner peace. Maybe allowing a sense of vulnerability would do some good for him. âAlright.â The single word brought you an intense wave of relief. âOkay, just sit on the bed, Iâll grab the cleaning stuff.â You walked into the bathroom as he walked out, grabbing the bag of things that were sitting idle before you had touched them. You came out, put the bag down on the side table, pulled a wheelie chair over, and gazed at the boy in front of you. ~
âTell me if I need to stop. No exceptions.â You pleaded, to which he nodded. You started to brush the hair from his face, deeply analysing the insecurity his features wallowed in. Like painting porcelain, you took to the bandage with the most gentle of touches, slowly unwrapping in a way not to bring suspense, but in hopes to make the boy feel secure. As the last of the bandage came undone a single tear fell from Carlâs face. Not in any way prolonging the process, you picked up some damp cloth and began to clean, as the boy continued to weep. âYou know, everyone has scars. Iâm not going to give you one of those talks about how you should be proud of it, and wear it with that pride, because thatâd be complete bullshit. As I was saying though, everyone has scars, some are larger, and some are easier to hide. But none of us want to wear them, and all of us feel just as vulnerable and exposed when theyâre all we wear. I just donât know why we give them that power.â It's something you'd been thinking about for a while. You looked into the boyâs remaining eye to see it staring back, you hoped that he resonated with your words. âIâve seen yours.â The three words momentarily paralysed you. Gaining back your composure, you replied, âfigured.â His brow drooped. âSorry, I thought you should know⊠Why do you hide them?â He was distracted, good. âThey arenât me.â You responded, finishing up the cleaning. âAnyways, you should probably let air get to that for a few hours at least. Did Rick bring you back any new comics on his last run?â You asked, genuinely curious. âYeah, he found the one I was missing from that Marvel series, and he brought back another series I reckon youâll like.â A slight smile was forming at the cracks of his mouth. âWell indulge me then, letâs read.â You stood up from the chair and shifted to the bed.
~
âAlright we should probably get a bandage back over that eye about now.â You declared. Standing up from where you sat, the boy subtly looked at you up and down. You walked into the bathroom to fetch a new bandage for him, âY/N, can I ask you a question?â Carl ventured. You walked out, sat again on the wheelie chair, and pulled your body closer to his, so much that your legs were touching. âYeah whatâs up?â You replied, beginning to work. âHow does it look?â All his focus was on you. âWell to be honest, I think it looks totally kick-ass and banging at best. Itâs a cool scar, and it has a lot of story to tell. I get why youâre insecure about it though, canât blame you. I just hope you come around to it at some point.â You wanted to say that for a long time, but never wanted to make him feel uncomfortable. He smiled âYou really think so?â You smiled too âYeah, I do.â
#twd#the walking dead#twd fanfiction#carl grimes#carl twd#carl grimes imagines#carl grimes one-shots#one-shot#fan fiction#fanfic#writing#writer#writers of tumblr#twd fanfic#carl grimes fanfic#michonne grimes#judith grimes#twdu#twd spinoff#fan fiction twd#s404 writes#s404#s404writes
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Hey, I'm the arachnophobe anon from a while ago.
You see, my fiancé got sick, mental health wise. He's on meds (got them upped and they gave him more) and therapy, but most days are incredibly hard for him. I became his full time caretaker now (I'm happy to) and I wish I could give him extra strength to be able to fight this fight. Do you have some spell or similar to give someone energy, peace or such? He's the one who has to fight, but I want to be able to help more.
Also, when I try to look for answers for the future with my tarot cards I realise it's very hard because I really, really want them to tell me that everything is gonna be ok, so I block myself? Any advice with that too?
I know this is a lot to ask for and kinda unfair, so you don't have to answer at all!! I guess just asking made me feel better. Oh, and excuse any English mistakes, please.
Hope you have a great day!
Hi! Yes, I remember you! đ
Okay, so first disclaimer, covering my bases: make sure you're taking care of the mental health as much as you're able, ask for help when you need it, trust the professionals around you, blah blah, you know the drill. You know your IRL situation better than I can, and I'm no therapist, so I trust you to have a handle on all of that stuff that you need to have a handle on. Cool? Cool.
Now the witching part I can help with.
Go get you a container. It's going to become a little home decoration. You can clean out a clear jar or glass drink bottle, get a fancy vase, use a shallow dish, whatever. We're gonna fold some paper stars, and you'll want to put them somewhere they'll be visible.
PAPER STARS! Here's a video tutorial:
youtube
Cutting the paper into strips is easiest if you have a fancy paper cutter thing, but if you don't have way too many craft supplies like me, you can use a lined paper and cut along the lines.
When you have time, make a decent stack of these paper strips and keep them near your container, along with a pen.
When you want to (daily, every couple days, before bed, first thing when you wake up, whenever you feel like it, etc), write a little something on the paper star, fold it up, and add it to the jar.
These can be things like "Give him energy to fight today" or "Give him peace and rest today" or even "Remind him that I love him and am here for him". He can participate too if he wants to! Even writing things like "Today was very difficult" can help.
This is pretty customizable with magic, as you can bless/charge the papers, or the pen that you'll use to write, or the container itself, or all of the above. It might be something you want to keep on an altar, or you could designate it as its own kind of altar. You can occasionally leave it in the moonlight if that's your thing, or pray over it, or whatever works in your system of magic.
As far as your tarot cards go: [gently takes them from you and sets them down]
Hey.
It's going to be okay. And sometimes it won't be. And then it will be again. Okay? đ
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