#trying to get the animation program to work so enjoy the stills for now

[preemptivejustice]

Arthur’s smile turned softer, a bit smaller this time. He wasn’t laughing, he wouldn’t dare mock, but something about Kane’s words - even the small joke - brought warmth to him that he hadn’t felt in a while. It was a dangerous thing, his mind tried to warn; there was always danger in getting too close to someone, in allowing them a place near his heart. 

He wouldn’t do that, though. None of this was emotional - it was just learning, talking. It was treating Kane kindly because he broke down when Arthur didn’t, and trying to recover from that took too much work. This was just laziness, playing it easy - whatever label he could find that wasn’t quite ‘care’. 

He cared about his job, if anything. He cared about his paycheck, his position. If he cared about Kane, then they would be going outside - forcing him to experience it through a window was proof that he didn’t care. 

“I think that’s beautiful,” Arthur answered, his voice soft. He understood it, of course; the safety in facts, the security in knowledge. The simplicity of things being what they were, without other layers that needed concern - it was a very honest interaction.

Nature mirrored Kane’s personality, especially when phrased in this way. Honest, kind, true; it made sense as to why Kane found comfort in it. 

“We are part of it, too, aren’t we?” Arthur gently mused, turning his hand over in the rain and watching as the water shifted. “It’s easy to forget, when working here. This place is meant to separate people - even the air feels artificial.” Maybe the ones who owned the building liked it. They were the sort of people who enjoyed the separation - the ones who liked thinking that humans were separate from animals, were above them. 

Arthur exhaled again, his gaze staying on his arm for a few moments too long. He could feel that familiar feeling inside of him, just below his ribcage; worry, dread. The knowledge that everything would end, and that it would likely end poorly. 

Kane likely would never be able to experience the rain, how he truly wanted to. Arthur had been working too long in places like this, to possibly be able to convince himself otherwise.

Still. 

What Kane had said mattered, for more reasons than the fact that he was an unknown species. He had a wisdom to him, a deep honesty that Arthur rarely got to see; and the smile was kind. All of it was kind, all of it held so much meaning, Arthur was talking to a living being who was young and confused and wonderfully beautiful - it was overwhelming, in the same extreme that it was tragic. It was the exact feeling that Arthur had been wanting to avoid, this helpless knowledge of holding something valuable and knowing that it would only be crushed. 

He wished that Kane had been a program. It would be easier than figuring out what to do with this. 

“I’ll see if we can come up this way more often,” he offered, rather than voicing any of his thoughts. It would have been kind to confess that he had found himself caring for the other, and it probably would have been right to - but it would only make things hurt more in the long run. “We can’t come here every day, someone would have a problem with that - but every now and then, we can come here. Whenever you need it, just let me know.” 

The pause that follows, the silence that stretches, almost has Kane slip into some kind of trance there; The room is fading for a little while, turning fuzzy at the edges as a gaze remains focused on that naked arm that keeps lingering, keeps being exposed to the elements - wind, rain, cloud-filtered sulight.

It's just Kane, not-Kane, it, the water, the ozone, the air, UV light, pollen, oxygen...

---And then there's another one, all of a sudden; It does not startle him, the fact that Harrow appears by his side after what has felt like minutes, but Kane is pulled back out of his own mind and dragged into reality - eyes now on the other, the way he takes a tentative seat not too far but not too close either, joining Kane instead of remaining seated on his chair.

Why are you doing that, he asks - and Kane presses his lips together for a second or two, sucks them into his mouth, before a blink follows - eyes back on that arm in question, the fact that he keeps holding it into the air, into the outside world, seemingly without there being a real, logical reason to it.

The noise of a window being opened is noted, the very same irises glancing at the motion from the corner of his eye - watching the man next to him roll up his sleeve next, just to... do the same what Kane currently does, mere second later.

Holding out his now naked arm, allowing rain to collide with skin, tissue and fine hairs.

Mimicking Kane. Copying him.

Harrow mimicks what Kane does, instead of Kane mimicking what the other's been doing; A change happening, once again, and Kane allows the situation to sink into him with a certain kind of awe blooming in the center of his chest. Just... watches. Watches for a bit longer. Then focuses on his own appendage, his fingers, the fact that goosebumps are still covering each exposed inch of his skin.

Why is he doing that? Why is Kane, not-Kane, it, holding his arm out for such a long time?

"...Because it feels good."

It sounds simple, it truly does - perhaps a bit stupid, all things considered. But there's more to that statement as it's spoken out in such a soft, almost breathy way - thoughtful, definitely.

It feels good, yes, but in a way that it's hard to explain; Kane wants to try nevertheless, so he swallows, then tilts his head a bit as more of that wet scent is inhaled, enjoyed, consumed.

"There's something to it, something I'm unsure how to describe - it feels... pure, somehow. Profound. The air feels pure, so does the rain. To touch it - the wind, the water - feels... natural. Like, what more natural is there than the weather itself? It just exists, because that's how it is, and everything else exists with it... doesn't it?"

Unsure whether any of what he says is even making sense, Kane pauses, blinks, then glances over at Harrow once again - shrugs after a second passes, gaze a little dreamy, a little out of it, heavy-lidded in a way that does not speak of him being tired, but rather... relaxed, immensely so.

"I think... that the weather is closely connected to nature. To foliage, to animals, to... everything. I like it. It feels very honest - there's rain, and when it falls, it collides with whatever is there, including outselves. It just does. We can try to prevent it from happening - use clothes and umbrellas, such things, but... all of that won't change the rain itself. ---The same applies to wind, to sunlight." ... "---Without any of it, nothing would be the way it is. Nature needs the rain, the sun, the wind; Animals as well as plants require it to thrive."

A lick of a bottom lip, a lift of dark brows, and Kane's gaze is back on the outside world - the wetlands, the rain, the puddles, the trees in the distance.

"Yeah, as said, it's just... very honest. Simple. Rain exists, it's a fact. Wind exists, a fact. The sun exists, another fact... sandstorms, snow, clouds, fog, hail, thunder, lightning - all of it just exists, and it feels raw. It doesn't apologize for being there, it just is. ...And I like that. I like to experience it - to feel it. ...Well, actually, perhaps I don't really want to be struck by lightning---"

A sudden joke, followed by an even more surprising chuckle that just breaks free, accompanied by a smile so wide that a hint of teeth is briefly shown before all of it mellows out once more, turns back into an expression much more gentle, less... intense.

"---But, you know - experiencing the rain is nice. The wind. The sun. It makes me feel... different. Better. It makes me feel better. I think I need it, somehow. Nature, I mean."

[bvixii]

I think it's time we blow this scene.

Get everybody and the stuff together.

Okay, three, two, one, let's jam.

[ Tank! ft. Tulpar ]

[maxwellatoms]

Do you think were any kind of specific aspects of the culture, industry, economy, etc that made making cartoons in 90s / 2000s better or worse than trying to make them today?

They're literally different worlds.

As a 22 year old neurodivergent, I was able to pitch show ideas directly to executives. Part of that was because TV Animation wasn't a glamorous profession (quite yet), so the higher-ups were genuinely passionate about the medium. I earned good money for the time and was generally trusted to run my show and tend to the crew. I would periodically be handed portfolios, which I would personally review and pass on to other show runners. For the networks it was always corporate, cutthroat, and ultimately about the money, but as an artist you could still have a voice and make art while being paid a living wage.

The pay for a freelance storyboard in 2005 is almost exactly what it is today, but now you're likely to have less time and be required to do an animatic on top of it. Portfolios are online, and (beyond metrics) you'll probably never know if anyone looks at it or not.

Animation got big. Too big. The executives got "glamorous", then the talent got "glamorous". By then you probably wouldn't get a pitch meeting unless you were a celebrity or knew one willing to be connected to your project. Animation eventually got so big that it popped. And that's where we are now.

Most of the people I know from Kid's TV Animation are currently unemployed. I have been off Jellystone for over a year, and I'm starting to get genuinely worried. Like, "move away to save money" worried. Most of the employed artists I do know are on long-running legacy series, and they're concerned about their futures when/if those series end. Right now is not a fantastic time for "animation as a money-making profession". The "glamorous" part popped years ago.

That being said, there are still opportunities out there. If you're just starting out, apparently there's a planned surge in adult and pre-school animation. It's also a great time (as long as YouTube remains sane) to be crafting your own content. But I think that the time of Big Studio Patronage is over for most of the industry. It's up to the individual artist now more than ever, not only to make but to promote their own content.

Back at the height of Billy & Mandy, we mostly pulled fours and fives in the Neilsen ratings, but we occasionally got a seven. For reference, E.R. consistently got eights. It's difficult to say exactly how many people that actually was due to how those ratings work, but it was a big deal for the time. Millions. Enough people that if I had a dollar for each person that just watched that one episode, I would have been set for life. Now, nobody gets a seven. A four is huge. Back then there were maybe fifteen or twenty channels of programmed content as opposed to the streaming smorgasbord we were all just enjoying (and which now also seems to have popped). Point being, even though I wasn't paid-per-view, I was able to use those views as justification for an eventual raise. In modern times, streaming numbers are seemingly deliberately kept secret. You'll never really know how well your show was doing until it's over. Or maybe never.

In modern times, a million views on YouTube is enough to get you noticed online. It's a lower bar for entry in a way, but you've got to get there all by yourself. Once you're there (hello Hazbin) a network may indeed come and scoop you up. Even if they don't, you can probably make a decent living with numbers like that if you're savvy and willing to take the time.

I feel like I could go on all day, shaking my fist at the sky, gray-ass beard blowing in the wind. Was it better or easier making cartoons in the past? It seemed that way to me, but that was a world I knew. There was no AI to sell you out to, and the media was more of a "Wild West" than it is today. I do think that AI is going to continue to displace artists (and soon others), making it even more difficult to get anyone's eyes on anything at all.

Culturally, we lack the common touchpoints that bonded our society in the 20th Century. I suspect that the media landscape will continue to become more "bubbly" and disjointed unless some powerful force swoops in to mandate a common viewpoint. Those are two very divergent, uniquely tiring futures, each presenting a different challenge for an artist's survival.

Outside of whatever our modern world is, animation was made for a century by photographing drawings. If Émile Cohl could do it in 1908, you can do it now. It's a lot of labor, but maybe that's part of what makes it special.

[fiftysevenacademics]

Here's the thing that gets my goat about Colossal Biosciences trying to sell itself as a conservation group: We already know how to save endangered species and have brought many back from the brink. They claim to have introduced badly-needed genetic variation into several red wolves using their cloning technology, although so far I've seen no independent confirmation of this. If so, this may be of some benefit to species undergoing a genetic bottleneck, although I will wait for further research and expert commentary before I make up my mind on that one.

Saving endangered species requires protecting their habitat, helping them grow their population through captive breeding programs or other measures, and protecting them from intentional and unintentional harm by humans, predators, or a degraded environment.

Some of you might have seen me posting about how excited I am to watch a peregrine falcon from my office at work. The reason is because when I was a child, there were only 324 nesting pairs left in North America, where I live. Thanks to banning the pesticide DDT and a captive breeding program, they are now a species of least concern that has surprised everyone by adapting very well to urban life.

You may also have seen me completely lose my mind over sea otters, which, like peregrines, were nearly extinct when I was a kid. Although it's still listed as endangered, legal and habitat protections plus breeding programs have tripled the population and they are a regular, common sight along some parts of the West Coast.

These are just two particularly charismatic animals that I am privileged to enjoy seeing wild and free in nature because of multipronged conservation efforts.

The thing is, these efforts require a lot of political heavy lifting, restrictions on access to and use of environments and resources that are often very unpopular with the public, and lots of money and human labor. There's no scientific magic wand, which is the impression you get from Colossal's press releases.

IF Colossal really has such a great tool for undoing genetic bottlenecks, the right thing to do is publish it so every other conservation group can adapt it free of charge. But keeping it this super secret IP that's somehow part of an elaborate bid for venture capital investment is not good for conservation in my opinion. The most realistic outcome of their efforts is that a few rich people will get really expensive designer pets-- they probably already have people lining up to buy the designer wolves and fluffy mice.

[mothdruid]

All the Work

pairing: art donaldson x patrick zweig x afab!reader

summary: you are Art's tutor, Patrick is a bad influence and always crashes your tutor sessions. but today you're more than okay with it.

wc: 3.4k

warnings: 18+, smut, mdni, oral sex (female and male receiving), vaginal fingering, hand job, pet name (princess and baby), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie.

a/n: finally! some challengers fic!! these two have moved into my brain and refuse to leave! I hope you all enjoy!! @gretagerwigsmuse here you go babes (this is barely proofread btw, so sorry)

When you offered to tutor Art Donaldson you thought that would be it. You hadn’t been expecting his nosy and obnoxious friend. They felt like polar opposites when you looked at them. The soft and reserved Art, who seemed to be careful about the words he said to you and texted you. But Patrick was careless and all consuming, a wildfire engulfing everything in it’s path. If Patrick was at the apartment while you were there no studying got done. Art would simply shrug and just offer a smile before joining Patrick in whatever nonsense he was doing.

Which was currently happening, both downing beers and watching animal planet.

Art and Patrick were on the couch, Patrick’s arm thrown over the back with Art leaning towards him but leaving a small amount of space between them. As much as you wanted to just call it quits and leave you didn’t, something kept you in the apartment, a gravitational pull of sorts. Instead you remained at the kitchen table, books and papers that you and Art abandoned still covering it.

You only started paying attention to the program about half way through. It was about mating rituals for some animals. Patrick had something to say about every single one, Art chiming in every now and then with a joke or to agree with Patrick.

“Can you imagine that shit?” Patrick took a swig of his beer, “Dancing around and putting on a show to get laid, that’d be embarrassing.”

Art chuckled at his comments. You simply rolled your eyes.

“Isn’t that what you guys already do?” You added.

“She speaks!” Patrick teased, turning around to face you.

His arm was still across the back of the couch, his bicep flexed a little. Art simply rolled his head back to try and look at you, blonde curls moving against his forehead. You looked at them, noticing something different in their gazes, something that made your insides churn and warm.

“Isn’t that what you two play tennis for? Look good and strong so people fawn over you?”

Art looked over and smiled at Patrick, who was currently putting on his best ‘deep in thought’ look. Patrick eventually clicked his tongue and gave you a boyish grin.

“Yeah, I guess it is. Right, Art?” Patrick looked over to Art, grin still wide.

“I- I don’t know if I’d say that,” Art murmured loud enough for you to hear it.

“Come on now, Artie,” Patrick took a drink of his beer, “tell the girl what she wants to hear. We play tennis for the ladies, not because we enjoy it or anything.”

There was a bite in Patrick’s voice that time, one that you blamed the beer for. Art was only on his second beer, but Patrick was probably on his fourth or fifth. You rolled your eyes once more, turning to try and focus on the assignments once more. You hated the way that Patrick was able to crawl under your skin, find that one spot that always got your anger bubbling. But then Art would be there later, when he walked you to your car apologizing, telling him that he won’t let it happen again, even if you know it’s a lie. When you peaked back at them Art was leaning into Patrick, who was whispering something into his ear. You looked away, not wanting to become more frustrated with the situation.

“Hey,” it was Art this time, “come sit with us, forget the homework.”

Art was practically hanging off the back of the couch now. His chest was pressed to the cushions, arms hanging out while making grabby hands towards you. Patrick’s arms were out of sight now, only his chin resting on the back of the couch. They seemed to have traded personalities at that moment, Patrick looking small while Art was begging for you. You stared at them for a moment, eventually letting out a huff and a ‘fine’.

Art and Patrick high fived while you were walking over. They scooted apart a little, leaving just enough space for you to fit between them. It wasn’t a lot of room, your thighs touching both Patrick and Art’s. Heat was radiating from them, seeping through your skin to melt and entangle with the heat forming in your body. The concoction was already intoxicating and you had only had a sip of their body heat, nothing more. Patrick slid an arm across the back of the couch, leaning in a little closer to you. Art cradled his can of beer in his lap, also leaning in a tiny amount closer to you.

“Can you imagine that?” Patrick’s voice got low.

The program that was on had started talking about animals who had a more carefree mating style. Hyenas, Bonobos, and many others. Animals who engaged in polygamy and more. It was currently talking about the Bonobo, a primate that happily engaged in orgies, threesomes, and even more at times.

“I’m not sure,” you started, “it seems like a lot of work.”

The concoction of heat was rising up through your body. Patrick looked at you with a little smirk, not a devilish one like he normally did. Art’s hand grazed your thigh, grabbing your attention from Patrick. All your annoyance from before had melted away when you saw Art’s eyes. There was only a small ring of blue around his blown out pupils. The back of his fingers continued to ghost over the material of your leggings, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. It was trance like, hypnotic blue eyes with the rhythm of his fingers. The heat of Patrick’s breath ghosted over your neck now. You weren’t sure when he had moved your hair to expose your skin.

“What if we did all the work instead?”

When you turned to Patrick his nose grazed your cheek, lips incredibly close to yours. You could barely make out the color of his eyes with him this close, a glimpse of a bluish green color was all you could make out. One of his hands drifted up your shoulder, his fingertips ghosting up in a similar manner to Art’s but along your neck. Patrick’s touch was scalding hot, turning that bubbling heat inside of you into something more explosive.

The kiss was sloppy, Patrick’s tongue pushing past your lips immediately. You could taste the cheap beer and a hint of cigarette on his tongue. His hand cupped the side of your face as the rhythm continued. You leaned a little further into Patrick, his free hand moving to cup your chest. Your right hand grabbed at Patrick’s thigh, needing to ground yourself in the smallest amount. At the same time, Art’s hand started to knead the meat of your thigh, gently guiding your thighs open at the same time.

A whimper left you, Patrick consuming and silencing it. Art’s hand had found the apex of your thighs, rubbing against your clothed cunt. The sensation spurred you to kiss Patrick with a bit more force, your breast pressing tightly into Patrick’s hand. Art continued to send muted waves of pleasure with each roll of his wrist. Your hips started rolling to meet Art’s movements, wanting more and more. You broke away from Patrick, turning to meet Art’s gaze again.

“Art,” you whimpered.

Patrick had already attached himself to your neck, eyes watching the two of you. You reached out with your left hand for Art, him immediately moving forward to meet it. Your lips collided with Art’s while you wrapped your arm around his shoulders. Your other hand had found its way into Patrick’s dark curls, tugging lightly as you let him continue to lap at your skin. Your body moved in tandem with the two of them.

Patrick moved a little behind you to let your back meet his chest fully. The hand you had in his hair slipped down to the hand kneading your chest, covering it and mimicking his motions. Patrick’s other hand moved down the side of your body, pulling up the hem of your shirt to expose some skin for both him and Art. The hand between your thighs moved up, fingertips grazed your skin. Patrick’s hand left your breast, fully grabbing your shirt and pulling it further up your torso. That was when the kiss broke. Art’s lips slightly agape as he stared at you, eyes flicking between you and Patrick.

“This okay?” Patrick whispered, pulling your shirt further up.

Art’s fingers spread over your skin, eyes trained on you. You kept your eyes locked with Art’s as you grabbed both of Patrick’s hands, guiding your shirt up further and exposing your bralette to them. Patrick chuckled and finally rid you of your shirt completely. After tossing your shirt to the side, Patrick cupped both of your breasts and tugged on your nipples over the material. A moan escaped you at the sensation of the flimsy material pinching into your nipples under Patrick’s fingers.

“That’s it, let it out,” Art encouraged.

You pushed against Patrick’s grip again, arching your back and pushing your ass back into his hardening cock. You hadn’t realized the feeling of his cock on your lower back and ass immediately, having been so caught up in your own pleasure. Patrick let out a groan when he felt you grind your ass back into him. Art’s cheeks were flushed as he sat there and watched the two of you.

“Fuck,” Art groaned. He grabbed at his own hardened cock, jerking himself off over his shorts.

Patrick’s lips grazed the skin of your shoulder for a moment, only for him to bite the strap of your bralette and guide it down your shoulder. The hand for that mesh cup pulled it down, exposing your tit fully. Art’s mouth was on your tit immediately, tongue caressing and flicking your hardened nipple. Moans fell from your lips, Patrick’s cheek on your shoulder as he watched Art and guided your other bralette strap down.

Blue eyes were staring up at you, or maybe they were looking at Patrick. As you watched Art lav at your sensitive bud, Patrick’s hand came around to thread through Art’s hair, tugging lightly on the blonde curls and earning a moan from him. The vibrations from Art’s moans went straight to your cunt, making it flex and tighten to nothing more than the simple sensation and sounds.

“Look at you two,” Patrick groaned, “so fucking hot.” With those words Patrick tugged on Art’s hair a little rougher and pinched your free nipple.

Art let out a whimper that time, not expecting such a harsh tug that time. You brought one hand up to Art’s hair, covering Patrick’s with your own. Slowly your hand drifted down and rested on Patrick’s wrist. After giving a quick squeeze you started guiding it down the side of Art's neck, eventually pulling it towards your center. Patrick got the hint and chuckled.

“Use your words,” Patrick growled into your skin.

“Touch me,” you whimpered out.

“Where?” Art murmured against your tit.

That’s when you felt Art’s fingers dip below the sides of your waistband.

“Touch my pussy.”

“That’s it,” Art smiled at you and started to remove your leggings and underwear.

As soon as you were bare Patrick’s fingers dove between the lips of your cunt, finding your clit immediately. Art finished removing the fabric from your ankles and pushed your legs apart, bending down to press kisses to the inside of your thighs. Art was trailing up the inside of your thighs, Patrick’s fingers continuing the movements on your clit. Both of their names were starting to fall from your lips, a gasp coming from you when you felt Art’s tongue drag over your slick cunt and roam around Patrick’s fingers. Patrick moved his hand from your tit to your hip, trying to keep you from bucking too wildly. Art’s hands slipped around your legs, keeping you even more in place for him to lick at you.

“Fuck,” Patrick groaned while rolling his hips into your ass.

Art’s tongue slipped below your clit, pushing into your entrance and lapping at the juices flowing from your. The two of them sat there worshiping you in tandem. It wasn’t long before you were falling apart for them, coming on Art’s tongue and Patrick’s fingers. Patrick stayed circling on your clit for a moment, slowly drifting lower through your folds to meet Art’s mouth. You watched with shaky breath as Patrick pushed his glistening fingers into Art’s mouth. Art groaned around them, keeping them in his mouth as Patrick guided Art back up to the both of you.

Art’s mouth was glistening when he came back up to the two of you. Your chest was still heaving, trying to regulate itself after an orgasm of such magnitude. The both of them had taken notice of that, meeting each other’s lips instead of yours. You laid there resting against Patrick’s chest as you watched them make out. It was messy, Patrick’s tongue diving into Art’s mouth to taste you. They were both moaning and groaning over your taste.

You let out a whimper to let them know that you were ready for them. It caught Art’s attention, him breaking the kiss with Patrick. Patrick didn’t let up though, trailing open mouthed kisses down Art’s jawline and neck. Art brought a hand up to your cheek and pulled you forward meeting his lips and letting you taste what was left of you on his tongue.

Patrick leaned back from the two of you for a moment, pulling off his own shirt and then finally unclasping your bra. Once both were removed he pressed his bare chest to your back. You rolled your hips back into his while reaching forward and cupping Art through his gym shorts. Patrick mouthed at your neck and shoulder, hand coming around to rub at your sensitive clit.

“I need your mouth,” Art groaned into your mouth.

You pushed up off of Patrick and moved to lay Art back against the couch. Art started taking off his shorts and boxers before your fingers even moved to the wrist band, signaling how eager he truly was for this.

His cock was prettier than you imagined, a sparse amount of sandy blonde hair framing it. You cupped his balls first, rolling them lightly and listening to his groans. You helped position Art’s legs on either side of your knees, making it easier to bend over and take him in your mouth. Art gasped the first time he felt your tongue on the soft skin of the head of his cock. You kept rolling his balls in your hand and you took him further into your mouth. Patrick could be heard moving around on the couch behind you. That’s when you felt the tip of his cock at your entrance and hands on your hips. With a moan you pushed your hips back, an urge to get Patrick to fuck you.

It was an overwhelming sensation for a moment. The thickness of Patrick’s cock was splitting you open, all while Art’s cock was heavy on your tongue. Art groaned as you took him deep into your throat unexpectedly, the tightness of your throat spurring him to thrust up a little. You moaned around him as Patrick pulled back for a moment, only to thrust forward with force. Patrick’s thrusts were pushing you further and further forward onto Art’s cock. Small gagging and gurgling noises started to come from you, drool forming around your lips. Art’s hand moved to your hair and tugged you off him for a moment.

“So fucking greedy,” Art growled. He gripped his cock by the base and tapped it on your tongue, which you happily held out for him.

“Greedy is right,” Patrick thrust a little harsh, “her pussy is so fucking tight, meant for this.”

Art guided you back onto his cock. You moaned at the taste of him on your tongue once again.

“Wanna fuck that pussy too,” Art thrust up into your mouth as he spoke.

Patrick let out a cross between a whimper and groan before he pulled out. A hand moved from your hip to the back of your neck, tightening and pulling you up off Art’s cock.

“Go on, princess, let Art fuck that pussy.”

Even though you were more than happy to be in the position you were in, that pet didn’t send thrills through you. You shot a dirty look to Patrick over your shoulder, earning that devilish smirk from him. Patrick leaned closer and pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

“Go on, baby,” Patrick whispered to you.

Art was lightly pumping his cock when you looked back at him. A rosy flush was covering from his cheeks to his chest, which matched the red tint that his waiting cock had. You moved your legs on either side of him, planting one on the floor due to lack of room on the couch. There was barely any time to line Art up, his neediness getting the better of him. Within mere seconds of positioning yourself above him he was thrusting up into you. Art didn’t have the same girth as Patrick, but his cock still felt heavenly inside of you. And he didn’t let up.

Thrust after thrust you were a moaning mess above Art. Your hands were scrambling to find purchase on his chest. Each thrust was hitting that perfect spot inside of you. The leg that you hand on the ground was starting to shake, the ability to balance starting to allude you. Patrick moved up behind you, snaking his hands under your shaking legs. Patrick used some of his strength to take on some of your weight, allowing you to relax a little.

“Fuck!” Art groaned as you felt his abdomen tense below your touch.

Art pushed his hips tightly to where you were connected, rutting desperately to feel closer. Hot cum filled your insides, your walls clenching tightly around Art. You could feel that Patrick was still hard against your ass, reminding you of what was still to come. Art’s breath was coating your chest as you leaned over him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. During that motion Art’s cock slipped out of you, to which was quickly replaced by Patrick’s.

Patrick’s grip was tight on your hips, almost as tight as your cunt on his cock. Patrick groaned as he watched his best friend’s cum leak out of you and coat his dick. You could barely hold yourself up anymore, Art letting you rest on his chest. Patrick leaned over you, his chest covering your back once more. His thrusts were starting to become more harsh and forceful. He pressed a few kisses to your shoulder before leaning forward and meeting Art’s lips once more. After a few more thrusts both you and Patrick were coming.

The three of you laid there in a pile for a while. Patrick was softening inside of you, but still keeping both his and Art’s cum safe in you while placing kisses on your shoulder. Art was running a hand up and down Patrick’s shoulder and back. You were trailing your fingers around on Art’s chest. The program on TV had changed by that time, now showing something shark related.

Patrick hesitantly moved his hips, his dick slipping out of you. A shuddering breath left you at the feeling of their cum starting to drip out of you. You didn’t even move when you felt a shifting on the couch cushion, Patrick getting up to track down a washcloth. It felt relaxing to actually just lay there against Art, finally not having to fully focus on anything.

When Patrick returned he cleaned you up as gently as he could, or at least that was what he claimed. Art pressed a kiss to your forehead before you got up, swiping the wash cloth from Patrick. After cleaning yourself you softly wiped Art’s cock clean, then turned and cleaned Patrick’s too. Patrick stole the washcloth and took it to the bathroom again, returning to find you and Art still in the nude and cuddling in the same position. Patrick simply moved into his former position with his chest to your back. Patrick tossed the old knit blanket on the back of the couch over the three of you. All of you just watched the shark program in silence for a moment, Patrick breaking the silence.

“Hope that wasn’t too much work,” he said quietly.

Art let of a huff of amusement.

“Not when it’s the two of you.”

[chuwenjie]

i really enjoyed you sharing your intern story, but i was also keenly aware while reading that it seems like that trajectory is only possible if you have enough money to jump at the opportunity. things like buying a plane ticket, potentially break and lease, and sign a new one with just a few weeks' notice, and then work minimum wage only a couple of days a week while there? do you have any advice for how you were able to make that financially feasible, or in your opinion is breaking into the industry only possible by having a ton of cash to burn on last minute and under-compensated internships? this is asked without judgement; i do really appreciate your insights, and am asking out of desire to carve this path for myself with limited resources. thank you!

(Note: this reply is regarding this post)

You're 100% right - the way that studios structure internship positions highly favor students that have the financial means to drop everything and move to California for a few months, for little to no compensation. The fact that they don't offer any form of housing assistance or travel stipend makes it incredibly difficult to take on an internship without already having savings ready to go.

I was very thankful and lucky that my parents had saved funds for my higher education, which is how I had money to do the internship, but I totally recognize how much of a privilege that is. I think the fault is on the studios for making these programs inaccessible, especially when it could be an experience with the potential to shape the course of an artist's career.

There are a couple things that could possibly help - the first is that internships already require you to be a student enrolled in college, and it's possible you could try asking your school for financial assistance for the internship. Some schools have special funds set aside for things like this and it's always worth to see if your school does.

The second would be that the pandemic vastly changed the way studios operate, with many of them now allowing full-time or hybrid remote employees. During the beginning of COVID, internships were done virtually, and perhaps it's still possible to ask if the studio is willing to accommodate a remote internship.

My last advice though, would be that being unable to participate in an internship is NOT the end of the world. Getting an internship in the animation industry is WAY harder than getting a job - the vast majority of artists I've worked with never had internships, and many of them transferred into animation from other disciplines like engineering or computer science. The way I got my first job also was not directly through my internship, it was actually through a Dreamworks showrunner discovering my artwork on Twitter and reaching out to me about a job. These days, social media has so much power to connect us to opportunities that would have been extremely hard to get in the past and I would definitely keep that in mind as you continue your journey! Wishing you all the best of luck.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

The Librarian & The Wolverine ~ The Rescue

THE LIBRARIAN & THE WOLVERINE MASTERLIST

< previous: The First Mission

Word Count: 6,220ish

Summary: Logan does whatever he can to make sure you are safe again.

Warning(s): mentions insecurities, time jumps, injuries, violence. nightmares, torture, kidnapping, PTSD

Notes: I hope you guys are enjoying this! Please share your thoughts with me on it. These two are so great to write for. Also, it's just going to be up and down from here on out. No more straight fluff chapters.

You woke up in a room that didn’t belong to any government facility you knew. You were restrained to a cold metal chair. There were medical equipment surrounding you, some of them were already attached. Your throat was dry and your vision blurred at the edges.

The door opened a moment later. Two figures walked in— a man in military-grade black and a woman in a lab coat. Her clipboard tapped softly against her thigh as she stopped beside your bed.

“Ah, you’re awake,” she noted. 

You didn’t answer.

“Vitals are stable,” she looked over the machines connected to you. “Cognitive strength appears intact.”

“What—“ you rasped. “What is this?”

“You’ll come to understand in time. You’ve been chosen. Not harmed, not… yet. Just relocated. The government has great interest in your abilities.”

You struggled against the cuffs, vision sharpening now.

“You’re going to be so useful. Your ability to absorb and store information? Beautiful, powerful, and full of untapped potential.”

“We’re going to help your mind work even faster,” the man finally spoke up, stepping forward. “With the right enhancements, you’ll store every byte of classified data we feed you. Weapons programs. Mutant registries. Government secrets. Foreign intel. And when we ask for it? You’ll give it back.”

“You want to make me a…” nausea rose inside you, “a living vault.”

The woman smiled. “An archive. A perfect one. You will read what we tell you. And when we ask, you’ll tell us what we need.”

“I won’t! I won’t help you.”

“You won’t have a choice.” She gestured to the man, who lifted a syringe.

Your breath caught. “You— You can’t do this—“

“We already are.”

“No! No! Logan!”

And the needle pierced your neck.

~~~

They kept you underground. No windows. No clocks. No sense of day or night— just harsh fluorescent lights and the constant hum of machines. You were in and out. They hadn’t fed you information yet, they were preparing you for it. You kept chanting Logan’s name in your head over and over again, trying to keep you tethered some how. But it was getting harder.

One day, they brought in stacks of files and placed them under your hands. Almost instantly, your eyes went blank and your breath caught. The information from the files began feeding into your mind, filing and organizing itself away. While you— the real you— was being bushed back, filed away itself.

~~~

At first, they tried to keep Logan home. They tried to tell him it was too dangerous without a plan. But he didn’t care. Logan had to find you, it was his sole purpose now. He hadn’t slept since before they took you and basically hadn’t eaten in that long either.

Every lead, every scent, every trace they could find— Logan hunted down like an animal. He tore through outposts and left entire teams bleeding behind him. He didn’t speak unless it was to ask where you were.

Charles tried to keep him grounded. Jean tried to reason with him, but nothing worked. Because Logan could feel it— deep in his metal bones. You were in pain and it was only getting worse. He’d seen his fair share of government experiments and he couldn’t let them turn you into their weapon. Or worse, into a ghost of yourself.

~~~

Every question they asked, you answered— steady, flat, and completely devoid of emotion. You didn’t blink because you weren’t there. They rewired your neural pathways. You still remembered everything. You still analyzed and indexed. But now you did it for them. A living hard drive. You recited names and secrets. You exposed enemies and allies. Whatever they asked of you.

They replaced the files everyday, always checking to make sure you’ve got it all before doing do. The more information you took in, the farther your true self got pushed back. 

~~~

Logan could smell you from a mile away. He crouched in the treelike, feral, eyes locked on the facility buried in the mountain. There were dozens of soldiers, automated defenses, and no visible entrances. They thought that would stop him. But they have no idea what they had brought down on themselves.

“Found her,” he whispered into his comm.

Then he dropped it, knowing the team would be there shortly. He wasn’t going to waste any time though. He reached an access point and began tearing through the soldiers like paper. Alarms wailed and lights flashed red, but he ignored it all. His only focus was you.

After fighting like hell, Logan burst into the chamber, tearing the doors clean off their hinges. And there you were. You were restrained to a metal chair with wires and tubes coiled around you with a stack of files under each hand. Your face was blank and too still. 

His heart shattered. “Baby…”

He dropped to his knees in front of you and reached for your face— gently and terrified. You eyes were wide open. But they don’t focus or move. You were breathing but you’re not there.

He finally touched your cheek. “Hey. I’m here. I found you.”

You didn’t blink.

“Come back… Come on, sweetheart. It’s me.”

Still nothing.

Then, barely there, a murmur, “…Logan…”

“Yes, baby. I’m here. I got you.”

He ripped the cables from your skin and cradled your body against his chest. You didn’t resist or cling to him— simply limp and distant. He held you tighter and whispered over and over how he was will you and how you were save and he begged you to come back to him.

Logan carried you out of the facility. You don’t speak or move or blink. Your eyes were still open, but you were looking through everything.

Storm reached him first. “Oh my god— Is she…?”

“She’s breathing,” Logan stated, not slowing his pace. “She said my name once. But there’s been nothing besides that.”

Jean and Charles stepped forward from the Blackbird, already reading out with their powers to assess the damage.

“She’s alive,” Jean stated softly, mostly for herself. “But… she’s gone deep. Deeper than I’ve ever felt before. They used her mind like a network. She’s— it’s like she’s filed herself away.”

Charles’ face was pale and jaw tight. “She’s dissociating on a psychic level. Her consciousness is in full retreat. Like a mental coma.”

Logan stopped at the bottom of the jet, holding you tighter. “You’re not taking her.”

“Logan—“

“You are not taking her.”

Jean stepped forward carefully. “We’re not taking her away. But we have to get into her mind. We have to pull her back before she disappears completely.”

“She needs to feel safe.” Logan backed up. “You think putting her in a sterile white infirmary room is gonna fix this?”

“No,” Charles cut in. “But if we don’t reach her soon, there may be no one left to fix.”

Storm laid a hand on Logan’s arm. “She’s not herself. And you’ve done everything you could. But this part… this part isn’t something you can do.”

For a long moment, Logan just stood there— breathing hard and shaking, like he was still fighting. He looked down at you. You didn’t look back. Finally, his shoulder sagged. He walked up into the jet and laid you gently on the cot ready for you. When Jean and Charles moved to touch you, his growled.

“I stay with her.”

Charles looked at the broken man. “Of course.”

Logan sat on the ground beside you and took your hand. He leaned his head against your body. “I need you to come back. I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll read every damn book in that library if it gets you to look at me again— really look… You’re not gone, darlin’. You’re not gone.”

Jean placed a hand to your temple, eyes closing. Charles closed his eyes as well. Jean gasped the second she connected. She’s not in a mind, but a vault. There were endless corridors in every direction, filled with bookshelves and data streams. Everything was expertly categorized and catalogued. It was all too neat and silent. She glanced to her left to find that Charles had joined her.

“She built this,” Jean murmured. “To protect herself.”

Charles nodded. “It’s not a prison. It’s a defense mechanism. She’s locked herself in the deepest part of her own mind and thrown away the key. Jean walked slowly down the corridor, reaching out to gently touch the books. All emotion had been stripped from them— labeled by dates. There were so many government secrets with a mix of your personal history.

They could hear Logan still begging for you to come back. Something shifted— a crack formed along the corridor walls.

Jean looked at Charles. “She heard him.”

“She’s listening. We need to keep pushing.”

Jean began to pull the books that had your history on them. The first time Logan held your hand. The night of the fire. The first kiss. The love confession. The vault trembled and then, from the end of the corridor, you appeared. But it wasn’t you. It was a fragile, flickering version.

You spoke without emotion. “I am the Archive. I exist to preserve and protect. Please do not attempt to disrupt the system.”

Jean stepped forward. “You’re not the Archive. You’re Y/N. And Logan is waiting for you.”

You flickered, hollow eyes meeting hers. “He’s… waiting?”

Charles came up and took your hand. “Yes. And he’s not leaving without you.”

You blinked once, then again. And the cracks continued.

~~~

Logan was still talking, whispering about the day he fell in love with the way you corrected his grammar. He was just about to chuckle to himself when your fingers twitched. He froze.

“Sweetheart?” He whispered.

You drew in a shaky breath— ragged and shallow. “…Lo—Logan…”

Logan laughed, half-choked, half-sobbed. “Yeah, baby. It’s me.”

You finally blinked and turned your head. “Logan…”

He pulled you into his arms and Jean and Charles moved back. He didn’t let you go the rest of the way.

~~~

You woke up in the infirmary. It took you a few seconds to realize where you were and that you weren’t alone. Logan was in the chair next to your bed, head bowed forward like he was trying to stay awake and lost the fight. His hand was still curled around yours. You tightened your fingers just slightly causing his eyes to snap open.

“Hey,” his voice was rough but gentle. He sat up and you could see the exhaustion and relief all over his face.

“Hi,” you whispered.

“You want water? I can get—“

“No.” You squeezed his hand tighter. “Just… stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

You shifted slightly on the pillows. Every muscle ached and your head was still very fuzzy. “I remember… some of it… They took me.”

“I know.”

“They almost made me forget you and myself…”

He flinched.

“But I didn’t.”

“You said my name. That was the first thing. Back in that damn chair. I knew you were still in there.” He exhaled hard and leaned forward. “Darlin’, you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

“I don’t feel like me yet… Everything is… fuzzy.”

“That’s okay. We’ve got time. You take as long as you need.”

“I’m scared.”

“I am too.” He kissed your knuckles. “But I’m here and you’re here.”

“Can you… read to me?”

“Yes. Yes. Of course.” 

Logan reached under the chair and pulled out your worn copy of Persuasion by Jane Austen. He had it there so that he could read it for himself while he waited for you to wake. He began reading. You closed your eyes and let yourself just listen.

~~~

You slept more than you stayed awake. Jean and Hank told Logan that it was your mind trying to repair itself— that sleep was safety. When you are awake, you barely speak. Sometimes you looked at Logan like you didn’t trust what you were seeing. Other times you cried and you couldn’t explain why. 

Logan never asked you to. He just held you and wiped the tears. “I’ve got you.”

You kept asking if this was real. And Logan told you over and over that it was. That you were safe now. Even when he could tell that you didn’t believe it, he kept telling you.

The first nightmare hit on the third night. You were screaming before you even woke— voice ragged and hands clawing at the wire you still thought were there. You hit Logan and bit him. You sobbed so hard your whole body shook. Logan didn’t flinch. He simply fought you gently and held you, trying to ground you.

“They’re gone,” he whispered. “You’re safe. They can’t touch you now. You’re not theirs.”

You didn’t stop crying for a long time and he didn’t let go.

Days later, you sat in the library, curled in one of the chairs you used to love. You had a book in your lap but your eyes couldn’t focus. The words kept slipping. You knew the words— your mind still remembered— but your body recoiled. The act of reading, once second nature, now made your hands tremble. Logan watched from the corner. You shut the book.

“I can’t,” you whispered, defeated.

He crossed the room and knelt in front of you. “Then I’ll read to you.”

You looked down, ashamed. “Do you still want me?” The words were so small, broken.

He reached for your hand. “More than anything. Even when it’s hard. Even if it’s never easy again. You’re not a job, sweetheart. You’re mine.”

You nodded and let him take the book.

~~~

One morning, a student knocked over a cart in the hallway and the loud crash made you jump, heart racing. You began to shut down— breath catching, eyes glazing over. But Logan was there in a heartbeat, hands gently holding your face.

“Deep breath,” he guided. “Right here. Just us.”

You breathed in and then out.

“That’s my girl.” He kissed your forehead. “Keep breathing. I got you.”

~~~

It was late. The halls of the mansion were dark and still. Logan couldn’t find you in the infirmary or the library. But when he came to his room, he found you sitting on the floor, knees tucked up to your chest, curled in on yourself like you were trying to be small. You were wearing one of his shirts, sleeves pulled over your hands. You didn’t look up when he entered.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asked gently.

You shook your head. He didn’t press. He just closed the door behind him, walked over slowly, and sunk to the floor beside you. You sat in silence for a while.

Then, you spoke up, voice thin and shaky, “I thought I was stronger than this.”

“You are,” he replied, sounding so sure.

You finally glanced at him. “I’m scared all the time. Of sounds. Of people looking at me too long. Of falling asleep and waking up back there. I can’t even read a full paragraph without panicking. I shelved one book and had to go lie down for an hour. I can’t help students. I can’t concentrate. I don’t feel like me anymore, Logan. I don’t know who I am without… control. Without knowing everything… without… reading.” You looked away. “And I can’t stop thinking… what if you stop wanting me? What if I never get past this?”

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m broken.”

“No. You’re not.”

“You don’t understand—“

“I do. I know what it feels like to be ripped out of your own head. To wake up and not know what parts of you are yours anymore. To be scared that what they did made you unlovable.” He moved closer, taking your hand and pulling it to him. “But you are still you. Even when it’s hard. Even when you can’t feel it or keep questioning it. I see you, darlin’. I see you. Every piece of you.”

Tears spilled over before you could stop them. You folded into Logan like gravity was pulling you there. You bury your face in his chest and cry. Logan simply wrapped his arms around you and rocked you gently.

“You don’t have to hide the hard parts from me,” he murmured against your head. “You don’t have to be okay for me to love you.”

You cried harder. “I just want to feel whole again.”

“You will. Not tomorrow. Maybe not not week. But you will. And I’ll still be here. No matter what.”

~~~

The library was mostly empty. It was a quiet day— one of those afternoons where the students were either napping on the lawn or sparring in the Danger Room. But a few linger in the library. A girl, maybe twelve, stood hesitantly at the reference shelf. You were sitting behind the desk, just there. A book was opened din your lap— not to read but to feel the weight of it. One of Logan’s flannels were draped over your shoulders, sleeves rolled at the cuffs. Your heartbeat still skipped sometimes when a door slammed. And you still checked the exits without thinking. But you were in the library and that was something.

When the girl at the shelf sighed— frustrated— you spoke up before you could stop yourself. “Need help?”

She looked up, startled. “Uh… yeah. We’re supposed to write about resistance movements in Europe, but… I can’t even spell half of this stuff.”

You smiled, just slightly. “Try ‘Maquis’. M-A-Q-U-I-S. French resistance. I think you’ll like them.”

She perked up. “Is there a book about them?”

“There’s a few.” You stood slowly. “Come on. I’ll show you where they live.”

The girl followed you to the far wall. Your steady, not fast, still healing from the neural drain. But you walked with purpose. You find the book and hand it to her.

She grinned. “You’re really good at this.”

You rose an eyebrow. “At being a librarian?”

“At making it make sense.”

Across the library, Logan stood silent. He leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, watching your every move. When you turn and catch his eye, he smiled. You tried not to be too embarrassed.

‘What?’ You mouthed.

He just shrugged. But he was already thinking of a dozen ways to tell the others— Jean, Ororo, Charles— that today, you came back. Even just for a moment.

~~~

You had finally done it. After weeks inside the mansion, you decided to take a quiet walk outside. The wind was soft and the sun was warm. You had a book in your hands, just for the weight. You were okay. Until, your chest seized and your breath hitched. Something slipped into your mind. It was subtle at first. A brush of thought. Then it hit, an unwelcome pressure. A mind not your own was inside your head. 

You dropped the book and fell to your knees. Your vision blurred and the pressure spiked behind your eyes. Your hands flew up to your head.

“No— no no no no!” You scammed. “Get out! Get out!”

~~~

Logan felt it before he heard your screams. He ran through the halls at full speed, blowing past students and furniture. You were in the garden, on your knees, hyperventilating. You were curled in on yourself like your skull was going to split in two. 

Logan dropped beside you, voice low and urgent. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”

“They’re in my head again— Logan! They’re in— I can’t— I can’t!”

He lifted you into his arms and pressed your head to his chest. “No one’s in there now. Just me. Just me, sweetheart. You’re safe.”

Behind him, Jean rushed through the doorway, pale. “I didn’t mean to,” she stammered. “I didn’t even realize— I was scanning the grounds and I must’ve— Logan, I’m sorry—“

Logan’s head snapped towards her, eyes full of ice.

~~~

Logan gathered all of them. Jean, Charles, Emma, and any other telepathy with regular access to the mansion. He paced in front of them, hands clenched.

“She just started walking outside again,” he voice was low but razor-sharp. “Just started. Like today. And someone pushed into her head like it was a hallway.”

Jean swallowed. “It wasn’t intentional.”

“I don’t care. Accident or not, you don’t touch her mind. You don’t scan her, brush her, or think too hard in her direction. Not without her permission. Not unless she asks.”

Emma sighed. “We can’t always avoid passive contact. We’re trained to keep our fields contained, but—“

“Then train harder. Because if it happens again? I don’t care who you are. I’ll treat you like any other threat.”

“He’s right,” Charles spoke up, calm and firm. “She is still recovering from a psychic violation more invasive than any of us can truly understand. We must respect her mental space. No exceptions.”

Jean nodded. “I’ll make sure everyone understands. And I’ll apologize to her again.”

Logan didn’t respond. He was already halfway out the door.

~~~

You were curled up in Logan’s bed, still shaken and quiet. But you were holding his flannel against your chest like it could anchor you. 

When Logan came in, you whispered, “Was it really an accident?”

“Yeah,” he replied, coming to sit beside you. “But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt you.”

“I panicked.”

“You had every right to.”

You looked up at him. “Did you tell them?”

“I told them and made sure they heard me.” He brushed his knuckles down your cheek. “No one touches your mind again without your say-so. Ever.”

~~~

Later that night, you were still jittery. Logan was beside you. Reading, but not really— his focus was mostly on you. You rolled onto your side. 

“I don’t want to feel like this,” you whispered.

“I know,” he replied. He closed the book. “You wanna try something? Something Jean taught me a while back?”

You nodded. He took your hands and gently pulled you up to sit across from him. He let his hands wrapped around yours.

“Close your eyes.”

You obeyed.

“Now listen to me. Just my voice. We’re gonna ground you, alright? Five things.”

You breathed in and out.

“Name five things you can feel.”

Your voice was shaky. “The blanket. Your hands. My shirt. The sheet. The mattress.”

“Good, baby. Now four things you can hear.”

“The breeze outside. Your breathing. The clock. The paper from your book— it buzzes.”

“Three things you can smell.”

You smiled faintly. “Your cologne. Coffee. And… old paper.”

His lips twitched up. “Two things you can taste.”

“My toothpaste… and… coffee.”

“Okay, darlin’, now one thing you can see.”

You opened your eyes, just enough. “You.”

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours. “Still here… still yours.”

~~~

You started to work in the library for one hour a day. In the early morning, when the halls were quiet and the students were still tricking down for breakfast. The smell of books, old wood, and sun filtering through high windows was enough to help your breath settle.

The first thing you did was dust the shelves. Section by section. No sorting or cataloguing. You moved your hands gently along the familiar spines, like you were re-learning a language. Logan didn’t follow you in during that hour. He sat outside the door, reading a book he won’t admit that he’s re-reading just because you once said it was underrated. 

~~~

The second week, you began shelving again. Only returns for now. You don’t touch the recommendation board that you used to keep updated or reorganize the new arrivals. But when students dropped books into the return bin, you sorted them one at a time. Some of the students left notes with them.

“I liked this one. Thanks for showing it to me.”

“Can you help me find another with a strong girl lead?”

You didn’t answer aloud yet. But you tucked the notes into a little drawer in your desk. 

~~~

The third week, you were in the library more during open hours now. At first, the students tiptoed around you. But the moment you recommended a book to a group of students working on a project, everything shifted.

“Miss?” A new student nervously approached. “I don’t really like reading but Mr. Logan said you could find something even I’d like.”

You glanced at Logan, who leaned in the doorway not even pretending he didn’t send the student. 

You smiled at the student. “How do you feel about ghosts?”

By Friday of that week, the recommendation board had two new entires in your handwriting. Logan stood across the room, reading the board over and over like it was sacred. Because to him, it was.

~~~

The fourth week is when you began to work full days. The library had been buzzing the entire week. Students trickled in and out, teacher stopped by. Even Charles paused in the doorway with a proud little smile. You helped with essays, made book recommendations, and repaired books.

Now the week was over and you were exhausted. You made it halfway through Logan’s door before your knees buckled. He caught you in one smooth, steady motion— arms wrapping around you without question.

“Whoa, there,” he mumbled. “Hey.”

“I’m fine,” you murmured, already leaning onto him heavily.

He chuckled. “You’re cooked.”

“Thoroughly.”

He smiled. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you off your feet.”

Before you knew it, you were on his bed in one of his old t-shirts and flannel pajama pants. He disappeared for a few minutes and then returned with a warm plate, a thermos of tea, a water bottle, and an ice pack.

“Dinner of champions,” he commented, setting everything down. “You barely ate lunch.”

“I was busy,” you mumbled, tired.

“You’re always busy.” He settled the ice pack gently against your lower back. “Doesn’t mean you don’t need takin’ care of.”

You didn’t argue. Logan fed you a few bites— not because you couldn’t do it yourself, but because it made him smile and you were too tired to resist how gentle he was tonight.

“You made it,” he said after a while.

“Made it?”

“You got through the week. Every single day. That’s worth something.”

You sighed, leaning against his chest and closing your eyes. “I’m proud of myself. But I’m so tired.”

“I know. You’ve been carrying a lot.”

“How are you so good at this whole ‘supportive partner’ thing?”

He chuckled, kissing your head. “Don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my image.”

“Too late.”

~~~

The next evening, you were in search of Logan. You followed the soft hum of something old-school playing on the speakers in the kitchen. You rounded the corner and paused in the doorway. Logan was at the stove, sleeves rolled to his elbows and apron on. The picture of domestic competence that you never expected to see.

He looked over his shoulder, lips curing up. “Hey, sweetheart.”

You smiled. “You’re cooking?”

“Don’t sound so shocked. I’ve cooked for you before.”

You stepped inside, the music playing low. “What’s the occasion?”

He shrugged, tossing a few vegetables into a skillet. “Figured you deserved a night that didn’t revolve around trauma. Just good food, soft music, and, well, me.”

You laughed, warm and light. “That sounds perfect.”

He gestured to the counter. “Sit. I’ll finish up.”

You perched yourself on the counter behind him and watched him move around the kitchen. You just let yourself enjoy the moment.

~~~

Dinner was simple, but surprisingly very good. You ate across from each other at the tiny table tucked near the window. He lit a candle between the two of you.

You raised a teasing brow. “Romantic, are we?”

He shrugged, but his ears reddened. “Maybe.”

You finished eating with your foot nudged against his under the table. 

~~~

The two of you were working on cleaning the dishes with another song came on— slower and sweeter. You hummed softly, swaying a little at the sink. Logan came up behind you, towel for drying still in hand, and leaned in close.

“C’mon,” he urged.

“What?”

He offered you his hand, eyes softening. “Dance with me.”

You hesitated for a breath but then took it. His hand slid around your waist. Your fingers found his shoulder. The two of you moved slowly, turning in time with the soft melody.

“I don’t know how to dance,” you admitted quietly.

“Neither do I,” he pulled you just a little closer. “Don’t matter.”

“Doesn’t.”

He chuckled. “Doesn’t.”

You closed your eyes and let the world blur around you. You let his warmth and the music carry you somewhere far from everything that every hurt. Your cheek rested against his shoulder.

“You feeling’ okay?” He murmured.

“I am now.”

~~~

You were surprised it hadn’t happened earlier in your relationship. It began wit his breathing. You woke up to the sound of it— harsh and fast and uneven. Logan twisted beside you, the sheets tangled around his legs, chest heaving. A growl ripped from his throat, low and feral. Then his claws unsheathed. 

“Logan,” you whispered, sitting up. “It’s okay. Hey, it’s just a dream—“

But before you could touch his arm, he lashed out. Metal flashed close to your face and suddenly pain bloomed in your shoulder. You gasped— more from the shock than the actual wound itself. It’s shallow, but your hand flew to the bleeding skin just beneath your collarbone. He woke instantly, eyes wide and wild.

“No,” he rasped, breath catching. “No, no, no— what did I— fuck!”

You tried to speak and to reach him, but he was already scrambling out of the bed. He was already backing away.

“Logan,” you said gently, trying to mask the pain. “It was an accident.”

“I hurt you.”

“It was a dream. You didn’t—“

“That doesn’t matter!” His voice cracked as his shaky hands finally retracted the claws. “I said I’d never hurt you. I said— I said I’d never be that person again.”

Your vision blurred. “You’re not. Logan, you’re not.”

But he was already pulling on his jacket— panic in every line of his body. He refused to look at you. “I need— I need air. And time.”

He was gone before you could beg him to stay.

~~~

Jean and Charles could feel what had happened. You were already trying to bandage yourself in the infirmary when Storm found you. 

“He went into the woods,” she told you.

You nodded numbly. “Did he say anything?”

“Only that he was afraid he’d do worse next time.”

“He won’t.”

“I know that. And you know that. But he doesn’t.”

~~~

You found him on a ridge above the lake, crouched low with his knees to his chest. When he looked up at you, his eyes were rimmed red. His fists clenched in the dirt like he was trying to bury himself in it.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said hoarsely.

“This is exactly where I should be.”

“I hurt you.”

“You love me.”

He flinched.

You stepped closer. “I’m okay. It wasn’t dep.”

“That’s not the point. What if one day it is? What if one day I…”

You knelt in front of him, taking one of his hands in both of yours. “You’ve never laid a finger on me in anger. Not once. You don’t hurt me.”

His eyes locked on yours— desperate to believe you.

You placed his palm against your chest, over your heat. “This is where you live. Right here.”

He let out a ragged breath and then broke. You held him close while he cried.

~~~

The next night, you came back from brushing your teeth to find Logan already curled up dup on the floor. He had a thin blanket and a pillow, with his body turned away from the bed.

You paused in the doorway. “Logan?”

“Just for tonight.” His voice was rough.

You didn’t push. But you lied in bed and stared at the ceiling for hours, listening to him breath just a few feet away. The distance between you two was heavier than any wound.

~~~

Logan was already on the floor the next night when you entered. In the same spot and posture. You stood at the edge of the bed.

“You don’t have to—“

“I do.”

You knelt beside him. “Logan, you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

“That’s not the point. I still did.”

You reached for him but he flinched. Your throat closed as you slipped into bed alone again.

~~~

It was the fifth night that became your breaking point. Logan was already on the floor. You stood at the door, waiting for him to break first but he didn’t.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you whispered. “Logan, I need you. And you won’t even look at me.”

Logan didn’t say thing and so you walked out. He didn’t stop you.

~~~

The bed in your room felt wrong. It was too big and too cold. You curled up on your side, waiting to hear the sound of him coming. But he never came and you cried into your pillow.

~~~

The week that followed was painful— for the both of you and everyone around you.

Day One

You passed him in the hallway. He slowed when he saw you. Like he wanted to say something but didn’t. You kept walking.

Day Three

You heard him in the Danger Room while Hank was doing a quick examination of your shoulder, just to be safe. Logan was tearing into the training bots like they had personally offend him. When he limped past the library later, all sweaty, he didn’t look in. You watched him from behind your desk.

Day Four

Jean gently asked if you were okay. You lied and said yes. You knew she could see right through you, but she didn’t push.

Day Six

You almost knocked on his door. Almost. You stood there for ten whole minutes, hand hovering near the wood. But you walked away again. And he heard every footstep.

Day Seven

You found one of his flannels under your bed. It still faintly smells like him. That night, you wore it to bed.

~~~

Logan hadn’t slept. He lied on the floor because he thought he deserved it. He thought it was safer and that distance was kindness. But every time he closed his eyes, he heard you leave again. He whispered your name into the dark. Every night. Over and over again.

~~~

Logan stood by the window in Charles’ office, arms folded tight and jaw locked. Charles watched him from behind his desk, calm as ever, but with that knowing look. The one that said he had already heard Logan’s thoughts.

“You call me here to lecture me?” Logan muttered.

“No,” Charles replied simply. “I called you here because you’ve been bleeding more in the Danger Room than on the battlefield and you haven’t spoken to Y/N in a week.” 

Logan didn’t move.

“She walks through the mansion like a ghost, Logan. The students are asking if she’s sick again. Jean asked me if she should start forcing her to check in more. All Y/N says is that she’s fine.”

“She deserves someone who won’t hurt her in her sleep.”

“She deserves someone who won’t disappear the moment she needs comfort. She thought you were that person.”

Logan turned slowly. “I hurt her, Charles.”

“I know.”

“I swore I wouldn’t and I did.”

“You didn’t mean to. She knows that.”

He began to pace. “It doesn’t matter what I meant. What if next time I don’t wake up? What if I— What if I go full animal in my sleep and she pays the price?”

“And what happens when you do similar damage by keeping this distance?”

“… I don’t know how to fix this.”

“Just show up.”

He dropped into a chair in front of Charles’ desk, rubbing his face with both hands. “She’s sleeping in that big bed alone. I know it. And I’m just down the hall, pretending I’m not a coward.”

“You’re not a coward. You’re in love and you’re terrified.”

“I should’ve followed her…”

“You still can.”

~~~

You sat up with a yawn the next morning. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed and suddenly tripped. You stumbled forward with a startled gasp, catching yourself on the nightstand before you fell flat. Your eyes snapped down.

“Logan?!”

There he is, curled at the side of your bed. On the floor, asleep. He had a blanket wrapped around him like a cocoon, boots kicked off by the wall. His brows were furrowed even in his sleep. You knelt down beside him. His eyes opened slowly, hazy with sleep and something fragile underneath.

“What are you doing?” You whispered.

“Couldn’t stay away any longer.”

What didn’t you wake me?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t think I deserved to.”

You shook your head. “Logan…”

“I missed you. I missed you so bad I was shaking.”

You leaned down and kissed his cheek. “I tripped over you.”

He huffed a laugh, short and embarrassed. “Romantic, huh?”

You nodded. “Deeply… come back to bed.” You could see the hesitation in his eyes. You held out your hand. “Please.”

Logan slid his fingers through yours and lets you pull him up. You led him to the bed and he climbed in beside you. You curled into him immediately and his arms wrapped around you just as quickly.

“No more running,” you whispered against his collarbone, pressing a kiss to it.

“No more.”

next: The Relapse >

[celestialalpacaron]

Ayo, someone by the name of Curly-B-Blog is redlining art of yours from 2020 (while pretending that it's actually Sai Scribble's work), and kind of being a dick about it. just thought you should know.

You know, originally I was just gonna brush it off, but then I went back to look at my old SU art from 2020 and did so much self reflection from then till now.

I think this was around the time I was just learning how to do perspective and tried to use the perspective tool on Procreate for the first time? :0 and I remember telling Sai “Sai I have this STUPID idea, I CANT believe it this stupid joke it’s so DUMBBBB, it’s living rent free in my BRAIN I SWEAR THIS IS GONNA BE SO STUPID DCIUWHEFIUWHIRFUIW4F” and being super excited to show her the finished product. People still think Sai created the Cursed Skin Gloves comic and I think it’s hilarious wjhwnuhwijwuiw

The comic was received very well and it made LOTS of people laugh and I’m still proud of this comic to this very day! :D and tbh if it wasn’t for my obsession for Sai’s Switcheroo AU I never would have found my passion in comic work! (love you you stinky hoe @saiscribbles 🩷)

HOWEVER…. I definitely still had lots to learn! I wasn’t very good at perspective at the time I’ll admit, but I was definitely having lots of fun learning :3

And throughout the past 4 years, ALOT has happened.

I graduated from college with TWO fancy pieces of expensive papers in Visual Development in Animation and Illustration learning from Will Kim and Jeff Soto, and as a I was working with the funny voice man Cougar MacDowall as a comic/story artist and reached in total around 7 million views for my fan series FNAF Security Malware Breached (it was even #21 on the trending list around the time of my birthday 🩷 what a lovely gift), had an insane opportunity to work with Mike Geno and with the voice cast from The Amazing Digital Circus for a fan song as a background and character asset artist, Vivienne Medrano liking and sharing my silly Overlord Husk AU comics, currently on my route to getting my certificate from Aaron Blaise’s Character design program and graduating from Marc Brunet Art School, and now I am completing my first year as professional colorist and art assistant for my storyboard and comic mentor Michelle Lam, aka Mewtripled! (Also I’ll be heading out to Lightbox Expo 2024 on October 26 with Michelle and the team so if y’all ever wanna meetup hahahajaj wink wink wink wink wink)

So you can say I learned ALOT and I enjoyed every minute of what I do :D I try to be humble about my accomplishments because blah blah being humble good yes yes but this time I wanna be selfish and say HELL YEAH I DID ALL THIS!!! AND IM SO EXTREMELY PROUD OF MYSELF FIUGEIURGERGGRS

Now here’s my most recent comic page that I posted like 2 days ago without the text.

That’s pretty freakin wild to me, I can’t believe I used to draw Steven Universe art like that back in 2020 LOL LIKE GUYS I DREW THIS!! WITH!!! MY HANDS!!! IS THAT NOT INSANE!!!???

Anyways moral of the story:

Learn from everyone and everything! Yes, even then mean ones too! If you can learn to work with anyone, I promise you’ll get to where you want to be faster. People can be a little mean on the internet, but that shouldn’t stop you from being where you want to be in the future. I’m so EXTREMELY grateful for all the opportunities and to all the kind professionals who were willing to give me a chance. Seriously, I’m so graciously thankful for everything, and I hope everyone here will support me and my silly little comics I will do now and in the future!

And one more thing:

Don’t be a jerk. Be to be nice to everyone :D nothing good comes out when you’re bad to everyone.

[babiigirly]

MC with anxiety and depression

pairings/mentions: brothers x reader

cw: anxiety, depression, bottling up emotions, very slight spoilers of the OG!OM, not proofread (lmk if there's more.)

A/n: i will write the dateables and maybe the undateables as soon as I free up my schedule. For now, I hope you enjoy the brothers' part and that it brings you at least a dash of comfort:))

Read more: Babi's Masterlist

~ ~ ~

Since coming to the Devildom and growing closer and more comfortable with the brothers, you've promised yourself that you know better than showing how vulnerable you can get in times when your anxiety kicks in and your depression takes over.

You had always wished for a new start, a fresh one, away from those who left you all alone feeling the way you do. You had seen the exchange program at RAD as an opportunity to do just that, to forget about your life in the human world and become a new person, to try and be someone with lots of potential.

Of course, the first few months of your life living under the same roof of 7 powerful demons was chaos, but you told yourself that you won't let that break you, even though you know how close you are from falling apart. There were times when you experienced anxiety and panic attacks and your emotions getting the best of you, and you have no one to turn to, so you stay and attempt to keep quiet in the privacy of your room.

However, time passes by, and you've finally found a place for yourself in the House of Lamentation, you wondered how long it would take for you to finally show how you truly are to the brothers as you feel your mental conditions getting worse.

Your secrets were not completely unveiled, but symptoms and tendencies that occur often begin to concern the brothers, royals, and purgatory boys. They know how it feels. They've been there, but they don't know if it works the same for humans. But still, they don't stop there, and they decide to help you with small gestures.

Lucifer would reduce the works you have to do, both at RAD and at HoL. He invites you to his office or his room, insisting he needs to be kept company, but truly, he just wants to see as you relax and slowly fall asleep from whatever you decided to do as you enjoy the silence between you two, away from his brothers and all the chaos around you. Lucifer will never bring it up to you or be verbal about it. Instead, he tries to tell you through his actions that he's here for you no matter what.

Mammon makes sure he's always by your side to make sure you're laughing and having a great time. If he notices that you're being overwhelmed by his brothers and everyone else, he wil, drag you away from them and bring you to a good hiding plave with a nice and relaxing view. He will never pressure you or anything, but once he notices that you're bottling up your feelings again, he tells you that he'll keep it a secret if you cry and he won't judge you at all.

Levi invites you to game with him or sing in karaoke or watch anime or read manga, whatever it is you want. Even if he thinks he's not good at whatever you choose to do with him for a change, he will try his best at it if it makes you feel better. It's also not that he's forcing himself, but he wants to try other things for the first time, and he thinks it would be more special if he first tried it with you. Levi will try his best to comfort you. He would be awkward about it at first because he's scared he'd say something that will make you feel worse, but he still tries. He will refrain from insulting himself too in the middle of it because he knows it won't do anything good,

Satan reads books on understanding human feelings and conditions. He also reads to you whatever book genre interests you, what book you choose, or the book you bought in the human world or the Devildom, wherever it's from. He takes you to bookstores, too, as well as in cafés and to feed cats in the streets. He will do hobbies that are peaceful, not stressful, hoping it relieves you at least a bit. He will also tell you that it's okay to feel emotions, that you can go to him, and he will do anything to make you feel better. Of course, like everyone else, he will not make you feel like he's pressuring you to do so.

Asmo is a really bright demon! He's a ray of sunshine honestly, bringing positivity everywhere, reminding everyone especially the people he loves to love themselves. He would invite you to do spa with him, have a massage, skin care, and basically any self-care activities. If you're not up for it, however, he hopes you would stay with him still and he praises you, complimenting you over and over again until you tell him to stop if you want him to. He tells you he's here for you and that whatever you're going through will pass. Would tell you he loves you very much and he will help you with whatever you struggle with in your self-care and well-being. ♡

Beel offers you food, but it's okay if you reject it! He takes you to his practices and hopes to entertain you. If you want, you two can try cooking together, he promises he'll try to stop himself from eating the ingredients before you even get the chance to cook. Beel is very warm, and though he's very muscular and big (unless you have a different headcanon of him), he is still so nice to hug because he makes you feel so safe and protected. He doesn't want to let you go when he knows you're not feeling well, he wants to hug all your sadness away and make you feel better again. Like Lucifer, he won't be verbal with it. He will show his love and care for you through his actions.

Belphie says he sleeps to forget about loneliness and sadness, but he knows that's not how it always works. If you ever need someone to talk to, literally about anything, he will be the one to listen. He will try not to fall asleep. He does think that your voice sounds like a lullaby that comforts him in a way, knowing you're next to him. He wants to do the same for you, to help you feel comforted and not judged for your feelings. He cuddles with you, you can be the big spoon or he will be, you decide. He tells you he's always here for you and that he will try to understand you like how you did for him.

~ ~ ~

Read more: Babi's Masterlist

[cameronspecial]

hey lovely!! i’ve been thinking about rafe spoiling angel and taking her to those cute little stores with all of the cute plushies and stuff. idk, but i absolutely love your work, and i literally giggle and kick my feet when i see that you’ve written more 😛

ilysm pookieeee 😋😋

Let Me Spoil You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Sex

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.0K

A/N: Thank you so much. It makes me giddy that you enjoy my work!

Masterlist

Y/N had just found out that she got into her top-choice Master’s Program and Rafe couldn’t be more proud of her. She’s been working so hard, so he wants to reward her for her accomplishments. “Rafe, why are we at the mall? You know I mostly shop at outlet stores,” she complains. Rafe brings her to his side, “I know, but why don’t you let me spoil you, Angel?” She exhales and bobs her head. “Fine, but not more than a hundred dollars,” she limits. She really does love it when he pampers her, but she needs to set some boundaries or else he’ll buy the whole mall. He shakes his head, “One thousand.”

“Two-fifty.” 

“Five hundred.”

“Fine, except I get to buy dinner.”

Rafe is satisfied with the offer and holds his hand out for her. He doesn’t want her to feel guilty about him always spending money on her. The first stop on their tour is the bookstore. He purposefully picked this mall because of the big indie bookstore inside. This is probably where she’ll spend most of her money. She has been browsing the science section of the store for about ten minutes now and has already picked out a few books. Rafe wants her to choose whatever she wants; however, he has a small request. He resets his chin on her shoulder, “Could you throw in some spicy romance books? I like proving to you that I am the ultimate book boyfriend.” Y/N giggles, remembering what happened when he caught her reading Icebreaker. She takes his hand and heads over to the romance section. She browses the books for a few minutes and picks one out. She examines the back, proceeding to add the whole series into the basket. “What’s the book about?” he asks because he is intrigued by the fact that she wants to buy all four books. She smiles at her, “The first one is a grump x sunshine book. She is a photographer and he is rich and her brother’s best friend. I’ve seen it on Bookstagram.” 

He follows her further down, “That sounds interesting. I can’t wait to see where it has us having sex next.” Shy about his words, Y/N turns her head away and continues to look at the books. They spend about forty minutes in the bookstore before moving on to  Miniso. Y/N stares at the wall of stuffed animals in front of her. She knows she wants one, but can’t decide which to choose. “Okay, so there are four possible ones that I want. The penguin, the cat, the bear, or the banana. Which one do you think, Rafe?” she consults. Rafe doesn’t use words to reply; instead, he goes to each one she points out and puts it inside the bag. He adds an elephant in just because he thinks she’ll find it cute. “Rafe, that’s too many. Where am I going to put them?” she reasons, trying to reach into the bag to return some of the plushies. 

He holds his hand out to stop her, “It’s still within your budget. We can put them in the frat storage if there isn’t space in my room and when we find a house in the summer, we just have to make sure there is enough room for them.” “Okay, I guess we can do that. Come on. I want to buy you some things too,” she tells him. They pay for the toys and she drags him to J. Crew. “You don’t have to use the money on me. It’s supposed to be for you.” She turns to him with a grin, “I know. This is for me too. You are going to do a fashion show for me.” Rafe isn’t one to like going shopping, but he will find joy in it if Y/N enjoys it. 

Y/N sits on the little stool Rafe got a sales associate to bring over, waiting for him to come out of the changing room. The door opens and he comes out wearing the teal and white-stripped button-up shirt with the tanned chinos that she picked for him. He does his best to catwalk towards her and spins around for her to take in the full look. “What do we think?” he questions. She gives him a thumbs up, “Rafe, you look so good. We are definitely getting those.” He nods his head before going back to the changing room to try on the next outfit. He comes out in black shorts and a light blue polo, which compliments his eyes. He mocks taking a golf swing, “This is the perfect outfit for golfing. We are going to have to get you a matching one.”

“I don’t golf, Rafe. You know that.” 

“I do, but don’t you think it would be fun to have a matching outfit? I can teach you how to play.” 

“Fine, it would be cool. We can go next week. Now, go finish trying on the rest of the clothes.”

He gives her a mock solute. After trying on the other outfits, they get her a matching outfit to Rafe’s and then go pay. They head to his car, having spent five hundred dollars in almost three hours. It’s a new record for them honestly. Rafe opens the passenger side door for her and she slides into the seat with a thank you. He puts the shopping bags in the trunk, making his way to the diver’s side. “Did you have a good day?” he postulates. His eyes land on her beaming mouth and she holds his chin in between her fingers. Her head moves up and down, “I had the best day. Thank you for spoiling me, Rafe.” She gives him a sweet kiss. “I will always shower my angel with gifts. Now, where are you treating me to dinner?” “Let’s get sushi!” she announces, pointing her finger in forward. He chuckles at how adorable she is and starts the car, driving in the direction of her favourite sushi restaurant.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @nonbullshit-toleratingkindagirl

[goobtopia]

need a rafe x fem plus size reader 🧎‍♀️ maybe a grumpy sunshine moment too where he’s mean to everyone except her 🫣

it’s a little blurb but i hope this is what you were asking for!!

!! 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!

warnings: allusions to sex (no actual smut), groping, kissing, domestic!rafe, swearing, sexual dialogue, f!reader

disclaimer: the original edit of this blurb contains poor choices that i made, that have now been edited due to a criticism i received in this ask, here, you can read the original line, the critique, and my response. one line i wrote originally, in particular, could possibly offend or hurt you so please consider this before reading as the goal of this disclaimer is transparency and accountability rather than to cause any further harm. thanks for reading and all criticism is welcome.

[requests are open]

☆ masterlist ☆

-

You and Rafe had begun to look like your very own Home Living magazine, you only moved in last year and since the dust had finally settled Rafe was letting you go wild with the interior design. You had to hire help for some things like the dining and the living room but almost everything else was by your own creation. You'd been having a lot of parties.

No kids yet and you were still fresh out of college so it was the perfect spot for all your friends from your undergrad program and Rafe's buddies to come let loose.

"Hey are you not feeling okay?" You whispered, sliding into the seat beside Rafe who had a scowl on his face and a warm beer. "No it's fine I just-" He cut himself off letting things go silent for a moment.

"Just what?" You questioned, hoping he wasn't starting to feel sick or anything. "You told me to chill out tonight but I can't help it, they're not using the coasters on your new coffee table and spilling champagne on the wood floors. These people are animals." You smiled, touching him on the shoulder.

"First of all, they're our friends and it's our coffee table." You reminded him, soothing the skin under his shirt by rubbing it as he takes a swig from the bottle. "You just put so much work into this baby, I hate to see them ruin it." He whispered sweetly, leaning his head on your shoulder allowing you to run you hands through his straight hair.

"Baby the wood's all sealed and I doubt a little bit of champagne is gonna make our floors buckle. Can you at least try to enjoy yourself?" You cozy up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he can't help but smile and give you a quick kiss. "Of course baby, consider it forgotten." He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

"You smell nice baby, is that your perfume?" He takes a deep inhale as you twirl a piece of your hair, "New shampoo, it's strawberries." You were both in your own little world at this point when he landed another kiss on your awaiting lips. "Yummy." He mumbles, sliding his tongue into your mouth deepening the kiss as he travels lower, grabbing the side of your hip.

"Y'know what might really help me forget?" He asks, pulling away from you so suddenly it's like he's teasing you. Daring you to tell him no when you have him so desperate. "Oh, yeah?" You ask him to continue raising a brow in the process. He pulls you over his lap, standing from his spot on the couch with you in his arms.

"Getting to spend some time in this cute ass of yours." He says loud enough for only you to hear as he squeezes your thighs, making you bite your lip at him.

"But Rafe, the party!" You whine, holding on to his shoulders and looking around the room that was uninterested in your theatrics. "What party?" He groaned, leading you his favorite room in the new house, the bedroom. "If I don't have your tits in my mouth in the next 30 seconds l'm kicking everyone out."

[bonzos-number-1-fan]

TMAGP 35 Thoughts: Pen Pals

We're back to what I like to call "the real podcast". More seriously, I'm just happy for more of what this one is about. I'm really enjoy how this series is building out these multiple plot threads and there are a lot of good call backs in this one. This is one of those ones that makes me thing they've got a really really well fleshed out plan about how everything is going to come together.

Spoilers for TMA , and TMAGP episode 35 below the cut.

Starting off pretty simple really, Alice is very upset that she's a dummy and Colin went mad. Just more reinforcement with the Freddie stuff. Nothing much to say about it all in all. Besides, more important things afoot.

It's a Mr. Bonzo episode, baby! Unfortunately, it's mostly about a pretender but any Bonzo is welcome. We get a proper introduction to Terrance Menke (previously spelled Menki), the Bonzo Butcher mentioned in episode 10 Saturday Night. As you may recall from that episode Menke's crime in the Mr. Bonzo costume basically killed off the entire brand, but I don't think there is an awful lot to get into about the specifics of the crime. Not that it means there aren't things to dig into, but what is interesting about it is the mention of his suit growing tighter, and getting slick. As we know eventually, and for some reason, the Mr. Bonzo suit stopped being just a suit. However, Menke's description of his own suit does seem to imply that any suit, even one with the colours back to front, does seem to work as a host for whatever Mr. Bonzo really is. Is Mr. Bonzo born from the concept of Mr. Bonzo and as such is bound to depictions of him, or is it simply something the animating force prefers? Given how prevalent Mr. Bonzo is in this series I'll be shocked if we don't get an answer to at least some of that soon.

The next thing of importance is Allen Stolas from the Elric Rehabilitation Initiative, both of these things are fairly overt references. Stolas is a goetic demon who're mostly commonly associated with the Lesser Book of Solomon, although a lot of its contents is based on the Pseudomonarchia Daemonum. Stolas is a demon prince and his role is that of a teacher of astronomy, herbs, and precious stones. All of which are quite important to alchemy. The name Elric is very likely a reference to Edward and Alphonse Elric, the main characters from Fullmetal Alchemist. Taken together, and with the general emphasis placed on celestial bodies in episode 21 Breaking Ground, then it would seem likely that the Elric Rehabilitation Initiative is another of the Magnus Institute's organisation. Much like with Welling Mutare Materia research program which also incarcerated people.

For more mundane things Strangeways is a fairly interesting pick for this. Its current official name, and what it would be during this incident, is HM Prison Manchester. It's not particularly interesting as prisons go IMO but it being in Manchester, along with TMAGP's Institute, does mean it parallels TMA's Institute and Millbank prison. It also came up very briefly in the ARG as a cracked theory involving triangulating Manchester landmarks.

Overall, I liked this incident a fair bit. It's always interesting to see things like this revisited and more Bonzo never hurt anyone. As with the ep a few back, I still don't love the whole multi-people talking transcript style but it's a fairly minor complaint all in all and with all the information in this ep it's hard to be too annoyed at it.

Back the OIAR crew and there is generally quite a bit to touch on. Some of that's fairly minor, Celia is still trying to link back the incidents to the Fears she's so familiar with. That's something I'm quite interested to see expanded upon. We can infer from the fact it's a sequel that whatever is going on is at least somewhat compatible with TMA's metaphysics and cosmology. Something that was confirmed in the Q&A. How they tie together isn't super clear right now though. At least, not beyond the more basic takes of "X ep is Y Fear". There isn't anything wrong with assigning those things but we've been pretty constantly shown that those classifications aren't a good fit for TMAGP's incidents so I'm eager to see the ways those are good fits. Also, Gwen both being taken about by Alice being somewhat kind, and also having no idea how to actually socialise with the OIAR crew, makes me sad. She deserves better. Probably.

GWEN Not really. It’s just going on and on about how important it is to “balance the books.” Alice, do you know if a guy named William Price ever worked here? ALICE If he did it was before my time. CELIA Hang on… “Bill Price” and he wants to balance the books? That’s got to be a fake name Right?

This deserves quoting because it reads to me as a very intentional bit of manipulation by Celia. This isn't the first time we've heard of William Price, and it's not the first time Celia has either. William Price, as mentioned by Sam in episode 20 Social Stigma, was the head of the OIAR's response department. Now, Alice was in that conversation too but at the time she was pretty over Sam's whole Magnus rabbit hole. Celia was very much pushing him forward though, and has been trying to cover her tracks since. I don't think this will deter Gwen any and I'm ever hungry for more information about what the OIAR is actually doing. The “balance the books.” bit is well in line with how Lena described the OIAR's purpose to Gwen in episode 13 Futures as monitoring the various forces in the world and balancing them as required. And, obviously, balance is a central idea of the show with Celia's explanation of why Sam needs to get booted to the primeline being explained that way, and with the Institutes own rituals requiring it. All of which is largely a continuation of TMA's ideas when it came to the rituals.

ALICE steps out the main door with her headphones in. She walks into a heavy trolly, bashing her shins and knocking a couple of items, including the camcorder we’re listening through. ALICE Ah! Mother-[fucker!] Hmmmm. Ow. What the hell is- Teddy?

Teddy's back, and I swear I thought this was going to end up being a "Teddy is homeless" bit, but it's worse.

ALICE Anything exciting? TEDDY It’s fine. [bzzt]

Poor Teddy. This man deserves better.

ALICE walks off. The Camera zooms in on TEDDY. His tension transitions into fear once she is out of sight. TEDDY (To camera) I’m Sorry! I’m on my way okay? It won’t happen again!

Man, you quit one nightmare job only to end up on the proverbial nightmare fire. Poor Teddy, man. Dude is gonna end up being Freddie's meat puppet and eventual host. It's gonna suck.

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

Incident/CAT#R#DPHW Master Sheet and Terminology Sheet

DPHW Theory: 4778 is more or less what you'd expect. As with other incidents where people die but it's not all about capital D Death you get a bit of that, but lots of killing, incarceration, and fucked up clown men on a war path does get you a lot of PHW.

CAT# Theory: 1 is the same Category as the previous two Mascot incidents. Not much more to say than that.

R# Theory: B is also the same Rank as the previous two Mascot incidents and as with those, it's very B.

Header talk: Mascot (Incarceration) -/- Retaliation (Imposter) is an interesting heading to me in that it reframes what we hear as being all about Mr. Bonzo.

[lime-ether]

Canceled Get lost Animatic

So. Why canceled? problem is not with the animation itself that there is something wrong with it, no, it's just that my program where I work (Flipaclip) crashes and deletes WHOLE HUGE PIECES OF THE ANIMATION THAT I WAS DOING SO I TOOK FROM WHAT WAS LEFT AND NOW IT LOOKS LIKE THIS

Just... try to enjoy, characters by

Ivy and William - @lime-ether

Shi - @jirlshi / @chill-shi

Ali - @shirkshingatumadre

Catri - @catribone

Dravolo and little den @dravolobones666

Sam @samuel-needs-sleep / @strawbxrryidiot

.... and @/phasimsigm

Nevertheless, I am upset that it turned out this way, not complete, assembled from pieces and a bunch of TEXT, WHICH I DIDN'T WANT TO DO

Because to tell a story, you have to show it.

Still yeah.

Og post

<><><><><><><><>

[grilledcheese-savage]

Sonic X: The Chris Issue

Sonic X spoilers ahead, I guess? It’s pretty old now I don’t think I need to warn anybody.

I was messaging my brother during my rewatch of Sonic X and decided to post some of my thoughts on Chris as a character. I’m not here to shit on Chris, I don’t actually hate him… I’m just here to suggest my ideas if I ever magically had the chance to make a modern reboot of Sonic X.

A lot of people dislike Chris, some for good reason, some just to be haters. And while I know a lot of people hate Chris because of him shutting off the gateway to Sonic’s home, there’s actually a much bigger issue with him as a character that I think is causing this immense hate;

People would like Chris more if he was obviously pathetic.

Okay now I know what you might be thinking BUT HEAR ME OUT FIRST. This is where my copy paste dms come in.

For example, If chris wore glasses maybe and was still rich and overprotected by his working parents and butler, but secretly discovers his love for adventure through Sonic, suddenly he has a much more interesting and streamlined arc.

Think about the comedic potential.

In the og, Chris is just an annoying rich kid who wants adventure until he finds it and gets scared but only when the writers remember it. Chris in the show, is sometimes helpful and always a liability.

I want it the opposite way.

Wouldn’t it be funnier if that’s what you expected from the get go, a kid who gets in everyone’s way? When it couldn’t be further from the truth?

In mine, he’s a more obvious, archetypal-tropey character that fits right in with the team of colorful animals.

He thinks he is this unlucky kid with no friends and stays inside all day, living in fear WHEN IN ACTUALITY he isn’t unlucky, he is LUCK INCARNATE.

AND HE HATES IT.

“oh no I’m weak and just gonna get in the way”

*trips on a rock* accidentally hits a button that prevents them from hitting the side of a cliff

Sonic: “Wow Chris, great job!”

“oh god.”

“What would we do without you, Chris! You’re an invaluable help!”

“Nooooooo!!!”

Another fun character trait is that he shamefully enjoys all the adventures he gets wrapped into in secret.

Adventure is like a poison, that enters his bloodstream and corrupts his programming. His programming being literal because all his overbearing parents fears for him made him into this hermit that he isn’t. His grandpa is the one who is always trying to him out of his shell. His grandpa is what he would’ve been like, without all his anxieties of experiencing the world.

His parents put all these rules on him that made him fear the world, until Sonic makes him actually experience it.

And he learns that it’s not something to be afraid of and he’s missed a huge portion of his life just studying and being a hermit out of fear. That’s why he has no social interactions out side of his family until Sonic.

It’s so much better when he gets back to school after his summer with Sonic, and he had no friends, everyone thought he was lame. Something happens and Chris has to do something scary to save the day and everyone is freaking out like “Omg how did you do that, he was dangling off the seventh story!” And Chris is so desensitized he’s like “Huh? What do you mean. That was nothing.”

Chris is so much stronger now and less anxious and he even dresses better maybe wears contacts (I hate that trope honestly but it fits so well). Everyone’s convinced he died and was replaced by a clone by the end of the summer. He becomes a certified school scp. He’s wanted by the government in several countries.

His parents are confused as well. If they come back temporarily they are so concerned for him. His new programming almost reverts but he’s just like that now. He stands up to his parents. He continues yoloing

What do you think? Do you like Chris? I also think it would make more sense for Chris to stop Sonic from going home because he’s connected his newfound confidence with Sonic in his mind as well as gaining his first friend. It would be too painful to make him leave, even if it’s disgustingly selfish. He knows it. He doesn’t want to go back to the way things were- Nervous and completely alone.

It’s his dip in character arc. But his guilt and toxic friendship with Sonic makes a complicated and emotionally compelling arc that eventually ends in him letting Sonic and his friends go.

Ignore the awful second hair, he has permanent bed head but this what I mean. This Chris is way more charming

Dishonorable second mentions:

[foxena]

Non-sims Interests »

Thank you for the tag, @introvertedfox!

List 5 (or more, or less) of your non-sims interests. These can be hobbies, shows, books, other games, etc.

I’m such a hobby-hopper—I'll fall headfirst into something, burn out, and then jump to the next obsession. But a few things have managed to stick around, so I’ll list those under the cut.

Other games – Shocking no one: I’m a gamer. I won’t list every title I’ve sunk hours into, but here are some favorites: Skyrim, Stardew Valley, Terraria, Assassin’s Creed, My Time at Portia, The Witcher 3, Animal Crossing, Prison Architect, and Scribblenauts Unlimited. A bit of chaos, a bit of cozy, a lot of save files.

Indoor plants – This is one of the few hobbies that stuck! I picked it up during my long COVID journey—five years later, I’m (thankfully) much better, and my little indoor jungle is still going strong. I don’t obsess over care guides anymore, but I still water, repot, and fuss over them like they’re my children.

Sourdough – Speaking of children... this little guy also came to life during my long COVID journey. It took years before I felt even a little proud of my bread—perfectionist, much? But now? I’ve become a bit of a bread snob. Nothing but my own loaves seems to satisfy my finely tuned tastebuds.

Violin – This hobby has always been in the background for me. Saying I’ve played since I was 8 (so, 17 years) sounds way more impressive than it is—because I don’t practice regularly, I’m not all that great. Lately, I’ve been trying to learn more classical pieces, but I think what I really need is a better practice routine.

Fitness and group training – Before long COVID knocked my health off a cliff, I worked as a personal trainer and group fitness instructor, mostly teaching Les Mills programs like BodyPump and BodyCombat. I want nothing more than to get back to it. Recovery’s slow—and honestly, patience isn’t my strong suit—but I’m trying.

Tabletop role-playing – I’ve played a bunch of different tabletop RPGs with a group of friends over the last 6–7 years—I can’t believe it’s been that long! Last year, I gave DMing a shot for the first time, running sessions in the Swedish version of Dungeons & Dragons. It’s been both terrifying and incredibly fun.

Japanese – I’ve been casually learning Japanese with Duolingo and Anki for the past couple of years. I’m not super serious about it, but I do study a little every day—so I figured it deserves an honorable mention. And if you’re also on Duolingo, we can bond over our mutual hate towards the owl.

Programming – I really enjoy the problem-solving side of programming, it’s another skill I’ve been learning bit by bit. I’m no expert, but it’s already proving useful! I’ve written scripts to automate some of the repetitive stuff I do here on Tumblr—like generating tzr posts or deleting anything tagged “delete later.” Most recently, I built a little program that pulls my scheduled and queued posts into a tidy spreadsheet.

I told you I have too many hobbies! If you made it this far, consider yourself tagged—I want to know what you’re into!

I’m also tagging @aliengirl, @tipsy-clouds, @minty-plumbob, @sharona-sims, @alxandergoth, @thiassimz, @bloomingkyras, and @wolkentage!

(No pressure at all if you’ve already done this or prefer to skip!)

[axilarycobra]

[Wings of Fire] Headcanon for every dragon character (a-b)

Hello! I started this thing a while ago where I created a headcanon for every Wings of Fire dragon. Right now, I'm just starting the J's, so I decided that I wanted to share some of them. Today I'm going to share my headcanons for characters with names that start with A and B.

As

Abalone - was a childhood friend of Gill; the two had a relationship with each other before Gill married Coral, but there were still always feelings between them which Gill felt guilty over. He eventually married Pearl (the member of the SeaWing council) and their son is Barracuda.

Addax - before the war, he owned a cattle farm where he lived with his family, he was a lot more friendly back then; after he got his family back, they returned to the farm where they live to this day. Arid is his daughter, but after she left for JMA, he had more dragonets.

Admiral - after TFoH, Admiral traveled the continent trying to recover from the conditioning of the flamesilk caverns. He eventually settled down in the LeafSilk Kingdom where he used his flamesilk to help the tribe.

Agave - Agave thought she had a crush on Palm when they were dragonets, but always had to hide it because Plam loved Smolder. Later, she learned that she didn't have feelings for Palm, confusing her care for Palm as a friend for romantic feelings. She would tell Palm to break up with Smolder as every solution to a problem in their relationship.

Alba - Alba loves hunting and used to work in her parents' animal skin shop before she was sent to JMA, making her a master of creating woven articles. At JMA, she taught other dragons how to use animal skin and even started a club for the activity. She and Changbai started dating after meeting at JMA.

Albatross - before Lagoon became queen, Albatross and Lagoon's mother, Queen Monsoon, was very careful with Albatross's magic and he rarely ever had to use it. This made it especially difficult when Lagoon became queen and demanded that Albatross use it for her.

Allknowing - Allknowing and Vigilance were friends as dragonets, Allknowing being the younger of the two. Vigilance was aware that Allknowing wasn't the strongest seer in the kingdom, but was biased as Allknowing was her friend, which was why she got to be Vigilance's personal seer until Clearsight's power was discovered. Quickdeath was Allknowing's son, which made her hate Darkstalker and Clearsight even more after Darkstalker killed him.

Anaconda - Anaconda inherited the throne from her aunt, Queen Jaguar, in a royal challenge, as her mother, Queen Dieteri, got the throne from their mother but was channeled by her sister. Anaconda had a close relationship with her mother and viewed the challenges as more of revenge for taking the throne, as she was never the more ambitious dragonet of her and her sister. She didn't let Python see it, but she was fond of her sister and let her take military charge and do what she would like to make her happy.

Anemone - Anemone felt relieved when animus magic disappeared and found an interest in pottery. She enjoyed actually using her claws to make something beautiful rather than making something beautiful at the expense of her soul.

Anhinga - Anhinga loved reading and established a program to collect ancient MudWing literature that would be stored in the MudWing palace library, fittingly named the Anhinga Library.

Aphid - Aphid would be one of the HiveWings to settle in the LeafSilk Kingdom as his father was horrified when he saw his baby dragonet being used like a puppet by Queen Wasp. He is the younger brother of Carabid who also lives in the LeafSilk Kingdom.

Arctic - Arctic was the oldest of his siblings, all of them being male and none of them being able to inherit the throne. Because of this, Diamond was very serious about Arctic specifically getting married and having dragonets so that she could have direct heirs and also continue the animus lineage. After moving to the Night Kingdom and having trouble with his marriage, Arctic began to figure out he was bi and experimented with male NightWings behind Hope's back which she found out about, but it was one of the things the two were more cautious about, so Whiteout and Darkstalker never learned about it.

Argus - Argus is a SilkWing servant of one of the kinder HiveWings which is why he can sometimes appear to be lazy to the Chrysalis, as he was in love with his boss. He didn't tell this to the other members because he was afraid it would make him look bad since their relationship had an imbalance of power. After TFoH, Argus's boss remained in the Hive Kingdom while he moved to the LeafSilk Kingdom to get away, knowing he should spend some time away from HiveWings. He is the older brother of Cinnabar and the grandson of Daniad.

Arid - Arid is grumpy and blunt due to spending time in the stronghold around dragons influenced by Burn. She isn’t the biggest fan of other tribes but JMA has helped her to open up

Armadillo - Armadillo was raised in the Scorpion Den by their father, Adder, a powerful business dragon in the den. Eventually, Armadillo met Thorn and when Thorn became queen, they and their father moved to the SandWing stronghold. Armadillo becomes Blaze's partner.

Ash - Ash is not a LeafWing, but actually a SilkWings, as the book she is in was written during a time when the LeafWings and SilkWings lived peacefully together.

Asha - Asha was in love with Dune and the two had a relationship with each other before Asha's death. Dune always mourned for her and it was one of the reasons why he was often sad and upset.

Atala - in the LeafSilk Kingdom, Atala becomes a member of the SilkWing assembly and marries her LeafWing partners, being one of the first SilkWing-LeafWing couples post-Tree Wars.

Auklet - Auklet has pink accents like Anemone did. Auklet will become the next queen of the SeaWings (many, many years into the future) after Coral dies of a SeaWing plague.

Avalanche - Avalanche meets Secretkeeper while the Talons of Peace go to the Rainforest Kingdom for a meeting and the two become partners.

Bs

Barracuda - Barracuda is skittish and longer/skinnier than most SeaWings. He and Newt are in a relationship.

Battlewinner - Battlewinner is the sister of Morrowseer, Quickstrike, and an unnamed male NightWing. Before her injury, she was ambitious and some of the kinder, less loyal NightWings were afraid that she would try to take over multiple tribes. The frostbreath injury she got was not from an IceWing in a battle, that is only a cover story. Battlewinner actually had fallen in love with an IceWing, but to protect her tribe, she attacked Battlewinner, making her resentful of the IceWings, even more so than before.

Bayou - when the MudWing Succession Crisis happened, Bayoun ran away to the Sand Kingdom where she befriended Jerboa III. The two remained friends until Bayou's death from old age.

Belladonna - Belladonna and Hemlock did not want to marry each other initially, and Belladonna tried to protest to her mother, Linden, but ultimately the two decided that it would be better for their tribe if they married, even if they did not love each other. The two see each other as close friends and partners in crime, but not lovers.

Beryl - Beryl is a SeaWing Scarlet knew from her reign as queen who was incredibly rich from an unknown source and had certain powers that scared the SkyWing queen. She is deathly afraid of Beryl which is why she never mentioned her to anybody before.

Bigtail - Bigtail is larger than most dragons which he is self-conscious about. This was made worse when Pike yelled at him in the prey center.

Blaze - Blaze enjoys dressing up other dragons, not just herself, and loves matching outfits with her friends.

Blister - Blister was a keen scholar, and despite her cunningness, she loved history and protecting scrolls. Before her mother's death, she organized the SandWing stronghold library herself. She is also passionate about theater and if she did not have the pressure of taking the throne and fighting in the war, she would have become an actor. She is a major scrollworm, similar to Starflight.

Bloodworm - Bloodworm wanted to take the throne from Wasp for a long time during Wasp's rule and would secretly practice her fighting. If Wasp hadn't been removed from her position earlier, Bloodworm would have developed a plan to kill Wasp and take the throne. Bloodworm killed Wasp after the two were put in the flamesilk factory, just for her own peace of mind, making her other sisters afraid of her.

Blue - after settling in the LeafSilk Kingdom, Blue attended higher education at the first LeafSilk academy, Sapling Academy. After he graduated, he became a lawyer and would later in life become a teacher at an academy built after he had graduated called Chrysalis University.

Bombardier - Bombardier also came to live in the LeafSilk Kingdom and as an adult, apologized to Cricket for how he acted toward her. The two would become friends and Bombardier works as an accountant at Chrysalis University.

Bonecruncher - as the settlement of Renewal expanded, a council was formed and Bonecruncer was named the head of agriculture. He never formally changed his name to Greentalon, but his close friends call him that.

Boto - Boto is the younger brother of Bullfrog. He had a crush on Thrush before Thrush started dating Ostrich.

Bright - Bright was Tualang's sister and they were kidnapped together while exploring the outer parts of the RainWing village. Although it was believed that Bright died, she was only pretending, and when the NightWings threw her "corpse" into the ocean, she miraculously survived until she reached the top of the Claws of the Clouds Mountains. She is currently lost in the Sky Kingdom due to not knowing the continent.

Bromeliad - Glory eventually assigned Bromeliad to be an envoy between the Rainforest Kingdom and the lost city of night, which Bromeliad found more enjoyable than all of her previous jobs. Bromeliad looks similar to Kestrel which makes Glory feel uneasy sometimes.

Bryony - Bryony's relationship with Grayling was platonic, she eventually got into a polyamorous relationship with several other LeafWings

Bullfrog (MudWing) - Bullfrog is the nephew of Queen Moorhen and one of her most trusted advisors; after coming back from Pantala, he met Bullfrog the RainWing when the medic visited the Mud Kingdom to learn the medical properties of mud; Bullfrog, being the healer of his sibling troop, got along with the other Bullfrog and the two started dating

Bullfrog (RainWing) - Bullfrog would eventually return to the Rainforest Kingdom with the MudWing Bullfrog; to keep others from getting their names mixed up, the RainWing bullfrog went by Frog and the MudWing Bullfrog went by Bull

Bumblebee - Bumblebee saw Sundew and Cricket as her parental figures growing up, going between those two households

Burn - Burn always felt strange when visiting Scarlet in the Sky Kingdom; she had a suspicion that the SkyWing queen had a crush on her, but was too awkward to bring it up; Despite her cruel personality, Burn was extremely awkward when it came to doing anything with other dragons besides killing

Burnet - after moving to the LeafSilk Kingdom, Burnet got a leadership position in the department of housing where she ran operations to build infrastructure

Byblis - Byblis is Linden's sister's daughter, making her Belladonna's cousin; the two are best friends