#especially the first one because there's a drawing i just whited out after the fact

[l0v3tast3]

i’m fucking loving the pervy older boyfriends!!! how about pervy older johnny??

aa tysm anon !!! ヽ(*⌒▽⌒*)ﾉ i loved writing this hehe i've been wanting to write for johnny for awhile now too so thank u for the request!! <<33

✎ tags: mdni! nsft, f!reader, age gap (r is 20's, johnny is mid/late 30's), semi-public s3x, car s3x, dirty talk, abuse of pet names, innocence/corruption kink, breeding kink (r is on birth control), overstimulation, praise kink/degradation, loss of virginity, oral (f receiving)

✎ word count: 1.7k words (not proofread)

masterlist | requests are open!

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!johnny who has an outrageously high sex drive whenever he's around you, or even just thinking about you. you're just the epitome of perfection to him, so sweet and pretty and smart, and you're all his. that fact alone always astounds him; unlike some others, johnny is aware he's a pervert. to be fair, it's only when it comes to you.

✧ ˖ ° he's just so happy to have you as his girlfriend, he can't help that he expresses his affection for you sexually! you've come to expect that as soon as you get into the passenger seat of his car, johnny's hand will holding the back of your neck to press your lips tighter against his. only when you're out of breath and your eyes are hazy will he draw away, cupping your face to peck a kiss to your nose before he's grabbing the steering wheel with one hand and your thigh with the other. he almost always ends up pushing his fingers into you and teasing you about distracting him when you end up moaning and grabbing at his wrist.

✧ ˖ ° unless he's taking you back to his house, johnny has a bad habit of pulling you into the backseat before you go on with your date. going to the movies or out to a restaurant? he parks in the back of the lot and fucks you slow to "not rock the car", but he just loves when you claw at his back and arms and beg for him to go faster (you've been banned from a concerningly long list of places because he just can't say "no" to you). one of his favorite places to take you out to are drive-in theaters, where he can sit you between his legs and finger you, stopping whenever you start making enough noise to attract the attention of the people around you.

✧ ˖ ° when johnny takes you back to his home, he does try to just spend some nice, non-sexual quality time with you, but he always says you're a fucking minx. if he doesn't make the first move within thirty minutes of settling into the couch, you will. in your defense, it's johnny's fault, and he'll also admit it. he takes pride in how much he's corrupted you, how addicted he's made you to him. he loves how reliant you are on him, especially for your pleasure; johnny will make damn sure that you won't be able to get off without his help after he gets his hands on you.

✧ ˖ ° "what's wrong, bonnie? it's only been a couple'a days, y'really miss me that much?" when you sheepishly mumble that you aren't able to finish yourself off anymore, a cheshire grin spreads over his face. "aww, poor little lass, y'need my help to cum? y'know i'll always help ya with that, c'mere."

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!johnny who wants to get you pregnant so badly. he knows you're on birth control and he'll wear a condom or pull out if you say the word, but his favorite thought to get off to while he's away from you is stuffing you full of his cum and seeing your belly swell. johnny's always wanted a family; maybe two boys and a girl, a couple dogs, and a sweet little wife to come home to and wrap his arms around. who better to do that with that you, his sweet little girlfriend?

✧ ˖ ° this results in him practically jumping you the second you tell him you're on birth control. he has you whining and white-knuckling the sheets, the side of your face pressed against the mattress and your hips being held up by one of his hands in no time. the other is planted beside your head so he can lean down close to you. "y'want my baby, lass? how much?" despite the whole thing being his idea, johnny will still make you beg for his cum. "c'mon bonnie, i know y'can use your words. you'll look so pretty with our child, don't ya think?"

✧ ˖ ° when you finally choke out your best attempt of pleading for him to breed you, johnny has the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. and despite the rough strokes pushing your body further up the body with each time he bottoms out in you, he'll get sweet. he lays his front over your back and holds your hand with one of his, the other snaking down to your clit. "doin' so well, just a bit more, lass, one more for me. sh, shh, y'can bonnie, promise it'll feel good. we wanna make sure, right? it'll help y'get pregnant, jus' one more, bonnie," he coos into your ear, shushing you when you start whining from the overstimulation. at that point, when he's finally wearing down, you'll already have multiple loads of his cum dripping out of your abused pussy around his cock, so you're pretty damn sure, but how can you say no when he's making you feel so good still?

✧ ˖ ° it isn't entirely about starting a family with you, though. part of it comes from how territorial and protective he is of you. not in the way that he'll kidnap you to keep you from the dangers of the world, but in the way of wanting everyone to know that you're his. in public (around anyone, really) johnny is always touching you. a hand on your thigh, around your waist or shoulders, holding your hand. his favorite place is the back of your neck; the shiver he feels run down your spine when he brushes his thumb under your ear always makes him smile. but there's still that little bit of him that says it isn't enough.

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!johnny who likes to make fun of you (in a loving way, of course). he doesn't go as far as humiliating you, but the way you try to look away and pout is just the cutest sight that johnny's ever seen. it'll be for any little thing, too. when your hips twitch as he grazes his hands over them. when you start forgetting to try and keep your moans and whimpers quiet. when your eyes start getting hazy while he sucks bruises into your neck that he'll wrap his hand over later. everything is fair game with johnny.

✧ ˖ ° and it doesn't take long for him to figure out how much you like it too. he sees the way your thighs rub together when he pins you against the kitchen counter or the hood of his car. he can feel the damp spot on your underwear spread even more when he brushes over your clit through the cloth. and the way you tighten up around his cock while he tells you what a good little whore you are for him when you let him use your sweet cunt. it's all because of how much fun he has teasing you near-constantly. johnny's ego definitely gets boosted to the high heavens when he catches onto how much you like his voice.

✧ ˖ ° he will definitely use your love of his voice to his advantage. it's just so easy, so tempting when you whine because he's holding your jaw so you can't look away while he fills your head with filthy words. "hah, i love y'like this, bonnie. so pretty with my cock fillin' ya up, doesn't it feel good? tch, i know it does, you're soaked for me lass. i got ya trained so well! sweet little girl, you'll really let me use ya however i want, won't you?"

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!johnny who puts little to no effort into concealing just how much he loves ruining your innocence. when you first start dating, he'll wait as long as you want to until you're ready to lose your virginity; he takes it as an opportunity to come up with more ideas of what to do with you. once he does finally get his hands on you though, it's game over. your clothes are off of you before you even know it and he's kissing and licking and biting every inch of skin he can touch. johnny wastes no time in hunting for your most sensitive spots. he's making a roadmap of the best places to pull gasps and tiny mewls from your lips as quickly as he can, starving for any sound, any reaction he can get out of you.

✧ ˖ ° after you're covered in imprints of his teeth he makes sure you're begging for him to do something to make you cum. johnny will slip off your underwear, following it down your legs with more kisses and nips, and when he's finally get his mouth on your drenched cunt, he won't come back up until you're nearly sobbing, trying anything to get him to let up. your hands will be pinned against your stomach with one of his to hold you down simultaneously, the other working one, then two, then three fingers in and out of your tight hole. when they get tired he'll swap his tongue on your clit with them, his thumb resuming the shapes and letters he draws over the bud.

✧ ˖ ° as he lines up the head of his cock with your pussy he'll finally be soft again, kissing you deeply and wrapping your legs around his waist and his arms around you. then his tip pops past your entrance and, once again, game over. johnny knows he's pushing into you a little faster than he should, but you're already arching your back, clawing at his back, and you're so tight that he thinks he might lose his mind trying to hold back. the way your eyes are rolling back as he bottoms out makes his last bit of self-control crumble.

✧ ˖ ° johnny delights in pulling you down deeper into the depths of depravity with him. how after he finally relents and decides to show you mercy during your first time together you giggly airily, saying you didn't think it could be that good. how each time he tries something new with you he watches you get more and more desperate for him, his cock, his touch, anything he'll give you. johnny just wants nothing more than his pretty little darling to rely solely on him for her pleasure!

#— ask! #— lilly writes! ♡ #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #john mactavish #soap #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #female reader #reader insert

[the-s1lly-corner]

He accidentally hurts you (Eyeless Jack edition)

I've been meaning to explore something like this and I'm still hungry for angst! Very heavy on my hc of "eyeless jack is cursed and has moments where his monstrous side takes a hold of him especially when it craves flesh",

Basic idea is reader gets hurt, jack smells blood, curse immediately totally takes over, blah blah things happen

More fan fiction-y than my usual short headcannons, but still using the bullet point format since I couldnt commit to the bit

Cw for mild injury, blood, mentions of SH but I wont dwell on it

Not proof read we die like Jack's self esteem

It wasnt too often that the ugliest side of Jack's curse showed itself; at least that's what you thought. You were under the impression that it happened rarely, due to the fact that you only visit Jack when he gives you the go ahead, on nights where he knows it wouldn't be an issue

But tonight, as your anniversary draws near, you decided to drop in unexpected for a night with your boyfriend. It was hard enough getting to his cabin, what with the rain and it being dark..

When you made it to his door, you could hear... noises..

Growls, hisses, howls; all pained. It sounded like there was a fight happening on the other side of the door... the sound of things being thrown and someone's body slamming against the walls made your worry spike

Of course you opened the door, fearing that someone had intruded into your partners cabin.. but when you threw it open, you saw that Jack was alone. Covered in bruises, and his arms bloodied with claw marks and bite wounds; showing off his blackened, inky blood. The man's small body heaved with ragged breaths as his empty sockets locked onto you

You quickly explained yourself after assessing that he was in one of his.. low points..

He wanted you to leave, but the rain had become to pour harsher outside; far too dangerous to walk out alone

And how could you leave him be when he was so obviously wounded? You insisted on patching him up, to which Jack reluctantly agreed to.

So you took him to the bathroom and took out his small first aid kit, and got to work.

Washing the wounds, adding pressure to where he needed it, added bandages. When you were done, you placed a light kiss on his arms

That seemed to soften him up, even through his building bloodlust and hunger

"I'll go get some bedding and we can set camp out in the living room," you said, trying to keep him pacified. He seemed to enjoy the idea..

He was smiling.. that's good, and his breathing seemed to calm down just a touch, though it was still on the.. hissy growly side..

You headed to his room, gathered some of his comforters and pillows, and walked to the living room, then went to his room a second time to grab his radio, knowing it can help keep him calm.

Unfortunately; due to the cabin being run down, one of the wooden floorboards was loose and lightly curled upwards... and, well. You tripped. You managed to save the radio, somehow, but your face slammed down onto the floor

Instant nosebleed

You cursed, and pressed a finger up to your upper lip.. yep, that's blood.. lots of it, the burning in your face intensifying as the pain set in, making your eyes water

Before you even had time to process anything else, a growl caught your attention. Spinning around, still on the floor, you saw Jack. The leaking ink of his eyes doubled in pace and volume; making a mess of his face and shirt as his bared teeth flashed down at you, nose flared and ears peaked at attention. Because of course, how could you forget, the smell of blood is basically a death sentence when Jack's curse is flared.

Your mind raced as you scooted backwards, Jack seemed to be fighting himself; but he lost. Before you could choose between running or bracing, he jumped on you

Bracing it was, then. Your arms shot up in front of you, and you felt white hot pain almost immediately

But just as soon as he jumped on you, you felt him pull himself off. Blood was all over his jaw, and getting spread all over the floor as he began to force himself to spit it out. Growls were replaced by low whines, before he scampered off, leaving you alone

It all happened so fast you were left confused on the floor, holding your arm. It felt worse than it looked; his teeth didnt seem to go that deep, and since he didnt... pull at you with his teeth still in, you were still intact... that was nice, at least..

Your mind went back to racing as you processed what happened.. you needed to get cleaned up before Jack slipped again

And that's exactly what you did; you rushed into the bathroom you were in just earlier, and began the process of cleaning the wound..

After a minute, the door cracked open; Jack peered in, more mellowed out than before but guilt was written all over his face. It was clear he was still struggling with his hunger, and you can tell just by looking that he was debating whether or not to approach you

His face twisted in pain when he, although hard to tell due to his lack of eyes, seemed to glance at the wound

"Its not that bad," you insist, but he shook his head. "You could have died.. I should have dealt with this sooner, you shouldn't have to.." he trailed off, "get hurt," he finished. His ears drooped slightly as he slumped. He pushed the door open, and entered the bathroom

His hands shook slightly as he removed yours from your arm. "Its my fault, I need to fix it.." he mumbled. You didn't push him away, although it may have been a dumb idea to let the starving man eater handle your bloodied arm

Cleaned, applied pressure, bandaged

He stared at the bandages, still holding your arm in his hands

You finally noticed just how cold he was. Jack was always on the cooler side, but at the moment he was freezing, even though he was covered in a layer of sweat

He ran his clawed fingers along where the wound would be, as light as a feather, as not to risk hurting you again

He leaned down, and lightly pressed a kiss to the bandages; just as you done for him

"Im so sorry," he whimpered, leaving another kiss

"You shouldn't have to be put in danger just to try to help me," his eyes welled with inky tears, and he left another kiss

"You shouldn't have to see me like this," his voice creaked out, another kiss

He was about to lay down a fifth kiss, but you stopped him

You reassure him; it wasn't exactly his fault. He didnt ask to be cursed, he didn't mean any of this to happen, he had been roped and manipulated into the situation that made him this way. You reassured him that you'd heal, and you weren't going to think badly of him, how you took the chance for something like this to happen when you first got together. Things like that. Though, this will call for a more in depth discussion about how to prevent this in the future, make a system and means of communication so he can warn you ahead of time during flare ups... but right now, comfort was top priority

It took a minute, but his tears slowed and he got control on his breathing. He whimpered, before peeling himself off of you

He backed off, but you tugged him into your arms

Cue the waterworks, again. You both hugged, not speaking.. just standing there for a few minutes. He rested his head on your chest, and you rested yours in his shoulder. You pulled away, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Do you still want me to stay?", you asked. He looked conflicted. He didnt want to run the risk, but he didnt want to be alone. Besides, the storm was still raging outside

"Why don't you.. stay here tonight, I'll step out.." he said softly as he stepped back. He cut you off before you could respond, "I'll be back soon, I just.. need to get this.." he gestured to himself, "dealt with, I don't feel safe having you around.. its only a matter of time before.. " he trailed off. You nodded, "I understand.. be back in the morning?"

He hesitated, before nodding back, "I'll be back as soon as I can be," he said quietly

You let him make his way to the front door, tugging his hold and mask on

"I love you," you said as you watched him open the door

He paused.

"I love you, too," he said, the cracks returning in his voice, likely choking down his emotions again

"We'll talk.. more about this in the morning," he added, smoother this time

"Alrighty," was all you said

And he left for the night, closing the door behind him

WOOOO

I hope that wasny too bad

This was really just a VERY vague idea I had for a few days that i wanted to write but I'm too lazy to do proof reading and rough drafts <\3 and im not used to writing longer detailed stuff like this, let alone dialogue

I hope it's not too cringe, I feel like the ending it rushed because

Erm

I didnt know how to end it

So

Uj

Yay

Eyeless jack angst

#creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack imagine #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack headcanon #eyeless jack #eyeless jack angst #angst

[xythlia]

𓏲 ࣪₊ warnings: toxic dynamics, mind games, possessiveness, jealousy, piv, use of clit/pussy/cunt, cervix fucking, mating press, choking, semi hate fucking (?), blood mention

feedback \ rbs are appreciated ♡

eep I hope I did unhinged asmo justice @jeschalynn

Asmo adores the fact that your love for him is double edged, expressed in a way that to an outside observer may not seem quite like love at all.

He doesn't want a different kind of love though, on the contrary he can't help but feed it, drowning you in displays of affection only to slyly shift his focus to another just to watch your teeth flash and your eyes narrow. To him, this is love. Every time he smells arousal dancing across your skin afterwards he can't help the yawning ache that opens inside, the one that calls to crack you apart and hold your heart in his hands and taste blood on your lips because after all isn't the point of love to consume?

And god does he want to consume you. You, so cute beneath him with your bruised, swollen lips and glassy eyes. With your mouth hung open he has a full display of those human canines, wondering if the pain of them piercing would be perfectly balanced with the pleasure of it coming from you. When you're so riled up you let him fill you to the brim with his cock, as much as he wants and he loves you for it.

But it's when you spurn him ever so slightly that has his cock throbbing, the sudden sharpness of your previously unfocused gaze as you purposely refrain from touching him.

"Oh, still feeling jealous are we?" He sneered, lips pressing against your cheeks with every turn of your head.

"If you want a kiss go ask your groupies," you murmur as your head tips back, tongue peeking out in a voiceless moan as his skilled fingers draw teasing circles around your clit.

It was funny, in a way only you could pull off, to still cling to jealous resentment with your legs on his shoulders while his balls slap against your ass. Asmo bit his lip to keep from giggling, that might piss you off a little too much and he didn't want you leaving. Especially not now. But it does little to hide the delighted smirk on his face.

He's loved that you love the same way he does from the moment he first observed it, you're the pool of water to his Narcissus.

"It's funny to you?" You bite back between gasps as he pushes your legs up towards your face, body braced above yours now. "You know how I feel but you still-"

Your voice trails off in a high pitched groan as he shifts the pace to slow but deep, cock nearly kissing your cervix with each movement. Asmo puts both hands against the sides of your face, squishing your cheeks and making your skin boil in white hot embarrassment as the squelching sound of your cunt fills the room.

"How do you feel, hmm?" He sing songs.

"Screwed up! You piss me off," your eyes are squeezed shut and you can barely force the words out against how good he feels, "your fans make you act crazy-"

In response every roll and push of his hips was skillful and the hand come to wrap around your throat and press on your carotid carried both tenderness and a warning. Through your fluttering eyelids you noticed his horns. Satisfaction, sticky and sick, welled up alongside your cresting orgasm making your thighs shake.

H fucks you like he's batshit crazy, eyes shining with something you don't have the capacity to identify right now, and pressed so close to you it's almost like you're one form. Calling him that always makes something crack inside him, and you stick your fingers inside the hornets nest every time.

Indents from your nails carve an angry red track around his forearm, but he's too focused on keeping that fucked out look etched on your face. Crazy, it's the only ugly word to fall from your lips and he knows you do it on purpose, knows you like what comes after and honestly so does he. Hearing your thin, strained whimpers doesn't make him loosen his grip on you.

That sharpness is back on your features.

"Don't get mad now," he purrs, shushing you.

The obscene noises of your slick cunt sucking him back in seem to grow louder and louder. Your eyes roll back as his pace finally becomes frantic, desperate to fill you up. "Besides, it sure doesn't sound like you're mad."

You squeak and slap his forearm which makes him relax his hold as you start sucking in air with broken hitches and blubbers of his name, for him to shut up, how much you love him, how much you want more.

He likes that you're the same, wired the same and with all the same buttons to push.

#something something love thats like starting at your own reflection until you become delulu #obey me x reader #obey me shall we date #obey me imagine #obey me smut #obey me asmodeus #asmodeus smut #asmo smut #om smut #asmo x reader #asmodeus x reader #om! asmodeus #꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ kita writes

[lxkeee]

I want to know more about Azrael Hfvbafhvbaefhjv 💗

I don't have any art of him (unfortunately, because I cannot draw)

Manifesting that someone will draw him omg 👀

APPEARANCE:

Azrael is a throne angel, his angel form consists of four golden rings that are filled by countless dark black eyes, his angel form is also accompanied by two pairs of black angel wings.

His semi-angel form is a male gendered body, except his head is a mini version of his actual angel form just floating above his neck.

Now to his humanoid or human body,

Azrael is tall, is 243.84 centimeters tall, has very long and slender legs and arms, skinny and slender body build (yes, he has a slutty waist), pale skin, dark black monolid eyes, long eyelashes, sharp jawline, pretty face (ethereal and out of this world, his facial features differ to the souls he's guiding. Terrifying to sinners, angelic to winners), clean and trimmed fingernails (sometimes he wears a black or gold nail polish), and his halo as dark as the abyss floats stop hiss head.

I don't know what hairstyle this is called but his hair is like this(https://pin.it/5WZCzuwcU) but his hair color is black.

He has the touch of death and he can activate and deactivate it at will. When activated, darkness crawls up from his fingertips up to his elbow, creating an ombre color of light and darkness.

Azrael Pinterest board (https://pin.it/L5weDj6X9)

PERSONALITY & BACKGROUND:

Azrael is a mystery amongst the three triads of heaven, doesn't make an appearance often amongst his kind.

Azrael has a laid back yet teasing personality; teases anyone if he has the chance to, he finds it amusing to see the person's reaction.

He always has a smirk on his face.

He has a bit of a flirty personality, he knows he has the looks and won't hesitate to use it to his advantage.

Especially asking the angels underneath his leadership to do favors for him, such as doing paperwork or doing boring tasks that he doesn't feel like doing.

Due to his laid-back personality, he sometimes doesn't take serious situations seriously and often cracks a joke during it.

He usually skips meetings unless it's a meeting that is held at the First Triad Embassy.

The First Triad Embassy is where angels who commit serious crimes are to be judged.

As the angel of death, he couldn't possibly roam the mortal realm on his own.

That is where the angels underneath his leadership come in.

Each virtue oversees their assigned angel types

He watches over the thrones and dominion angels, giving them lists of souls they needed to reap, usually souls of winners.

He wants to personally reap the souls of sinners, he wants to scare them.

When guiding a winner he just summons a portal that leads to heaven's gates.

When guiding a sinner, he just opens a portal underneath the soul's feet and drops them to hell without notice.

Azrael was born into existence when earthly creatures were created, no, humans aren't the first creatures on earth.

He was created because mortal creatures existed.

He is death, he is what awaits them after their time ends.

Yes, he also sends animal souls to heaven.

Azrael is currently seventh in rank among the seven main virtues, embodying the virtue of humility.

MISCELLANEOUS FUN FACTS:

• His favorite flower is a red spider lily.

• He is a cat person, he loves cats. His favorite are the orange ones.

• His bird form is a black swan.

• He doesn't like doing paperwork.

• He likes drinking black coffee with two cubes of sugar.

• His favorite colors are black, white, and gold.

• He wields a black scythe with golden edges.

• He gets distracted easily.

• Slightly narcissistic.

• Amongst Luke's ocs he is the favorite child.

#lxkeee answers #hazbin hotel #Lxke's Azrael character

[penncilkid]

Been thinking about my experiences as a POC within fandom while also being an artist and how much that sucks sometimes. This is primarily in regards to the Redacted fandom, but could be applied to any other fandom honestly.

Proper "fussing" under the cut (for those who would rather not see):

Sometimes, I really stop and think about what it must be like to be a white person in fandom, especially when you're an artist. To see yourself reflected in the spaces you exist in all the time. There are some exceptions to this, of course. For example, lack of body diversity is just as much of a problem in my opinion (Like fat people exist. Disabled people exist. Fat, disabled people exist. You can draw them, y'know? /rhet) But generally speaking, it's not difficult to find designs that probably look like you. There will be blondes, brunettes, redheads even— It's everywhere you look.

I don't think most people realize how isolating that ends up feeling though.

Because it's not just the fact that most of the art/designs you'll stumble upon won't resemble you. It's the fact that the prevalence dictates how everyone else interacts with fandom too.

Do you know how much it sucks seeing a post saying "So we all agree that Asher's blonde, right?" and knowing that most people are thinking of a white guy and nothing else?

Or noticing how Alexis, a generally "hated" character in the fandom, is the only vampire most people are willing to make visibly brown?

How about the fact that Gavin, the "thrilling" and "sexy" incubus, has so many black and brown designs— But I can count the non-white Lasko designs I've come across on my hand?

People can do whatever they want. I've said it before, and I'll continue to repeat it when I make these rambles. If you want to make every single design you have varying shades of white and never stray from that, that's your prerogative. But for the love of god, I wish I didn't feel like I was fucking crazy for talking about how much that shit sucks to see as a person of color.

On top of that, do you know how frustrating it is to watch white artists get praised for generic diversity when POC artists have been consistently bringing forth such compelling, stunning designs to table? Like I see the kind of shit that gets praised in this fandom and what doesn't. Racial ambiguity or the slightest addition of a curl gets treated like it's revolutionary— And that's only if it's the "correct" character. It has to "make sense", right? The same way Sam has to have sun-kissed, golden skin even after he's been turned, or the way Guy has to be white because there's no way someone with that personality could be anything but.

Do you know what it's like to be filled with such a sense of joy because someone made a design where a character had your skin tone or hair texture or facial feature? Like, I genuinely have a strong reaction whenever I find a black or brown design in this fandom because they're so rare in comparison to everything else. And when I really stop to think about that, I realize how fucked up of a phenomenon that is.

I love the designs that I've made, but I've also noticed which ones "do better" comparably. I don't change much of anything with how I go about posting or promoting them. The only difference is that some of them fit what is considered widely "canon" in fandom. And the others... don't. I go out of my way to make every design POC in some regard, and you can usually tell visually even without the addition of colors. I'm not gonna stop doing that because I know why I started in the first place. But fuck, it does start to hurt seeing white artists with the same general white designs get hyped up endlessly while I internally debate if I should even make another character look like me or not. If it'll even matter to anyone but me.

Some days, I just really wish it didn't feel like shit being black in this fandom. I hate knowing that I'm gonna post this, and I'll probably get responses for other people of color primarily.

But maybe putting this out will help that pill get easier to swallow.

#PK Rambles #Fandom Wank #If you feel “targeted” by this post: Maybe just ask yourself why? /gen #Because I promise you that your brief discomfort will fade with time #And my isolating exhaustion will continue to seep deeper and deeper into my bones #I'm just really fucking tired in a lot of ways

[l3viat8an]

HWAAAAHHH HEY ROOOOO ♡

A not so quick thought I've been dying to shareeeee ahhhhh

Omg- so yk how Mc has that long table in their room??? Imagine setting up a craft station each week for the boys to do a lil craft.

Beel, Asmo, Dia, Simeon and Luke are super excited for crafting. Barbie, Mamms and Levi are excited too even if they won't admit it. But Luci, Satan and Belphie need a little bit of convincing. They're not children! But after your first successful chaotic crafting session they start to like it.

𖥸 Luci is surprisingly artistic. Even if it seems silly, this little crafting session is very relaxing and it gives him time to bond with his brothers. He likes to follow the model closely first before experimenting a little bit with his technique and style

𖥸 Mamms + Levi are trying to 1 up each other the whole time. They will hate on each other's projects and will fight over supplies. Mammon will swipe the scissors from Levi mid-cut even though there are 5 other pairs currently not being used. Then Levi will try to get them back and a fight will break out. Mc has to use "stay" before Levi summons Lotan.

𖥸 Satan bbg I'm so sorry. He will make something beautiful that he's proud of but it will get ruined. He'll just be putting the finishing touches on his craft when Levi and Mammon's fight will cause something to ruin it. A paint cup got knocked over and now there's paint water soaking his hard work. Or the glitter got spilled and now there's sparkly bits clinging to the undried glue. Mc is gonna have to use "stay" again to keep him from wringing his older brothers' necks.

𖥸 Asmo's crafts can be described in one word. Shiny. He's using all the glitter, gold leaf and sequins available to him. He especially likes those gold and silver detailing pens. But don't mistake sparkly for tacky because even if his crafts are sparkly they are still tasteful.

𖥸 Beel + Belphie will make adorable little projects but Beel will try to eat the supplies duh. Please for the love of Dia get the nontoxic supplies. He can't help it though. That shade of pink looks just like a poison strawberry tart and the colors Simeon mixed look exactly like Madam Scream's Macarons! He just wants a little taste. Belphie will be busy trying to stop him from drinking paint. If he keeps a few extra snacks on hand then it will keep Beel at bay.

𖥸 Diavolo is just absolutely enamored by all the cool crafts. Like woah you made that little scarecrow!? And you made a pom pom pumpkin? He's so excited to try out all the crafts and is that one weirdo that is absolutely covered in 8 different colors of paint somehow even though he only used white.

𖥸 Barbatos will also create the most gorgeous crafts. Like excuse me sir, you're telling me you made that out of construction paper, pipe cleaners and popsicle sticks???? There ain't no way. 100% the chillest crafter at the table but he will snap Mammon and Levi's necks if any of the mishaps of their fight ruins his project.

𖥸 Simeon and Luke will probably work together on a craft. Like Asmo's projects, Simeon and Luke will add lots of pastel colors and shiny bits to their project mostly in the form of gold flakes or those metalic paint pens.

𖥸 Solomons crafts are similar to his cooking. They never end up being what was intended. Like today we're making kites and - Uhhh Solomon made an abstract Mona Lisa with construction paper shapes?? Alright then... You do you man

HIIII CHERRY!!! Omgg okay- this is all so cute <3 finally giving that silly table a good use too jsjsjsj besides homework 💀

Lucifer being good at everything doesn’t even surprise me anymore- but he’s genuinely very into it and it’s nice to see him try to relax and do something with his brother that’s just for fun!!!

Mammon + Levi- I wouldn’t expect anything else honestly- those two can’t stop for five minutes and they almost ruin it for everyone. (Until MC calms them down and fixes everything) also the fact Levi’s better at traditional drawing them Mammon is probably another reason they fight hskshsj

Poor Satan. Tho depending on how annoying Levi & Mams have been it might be fine to let Satan smack them up a bit- jkjk bad idea ik- MC needs to help him calm down and maybe start a new project together? (That’ll at least perk Satan up and piss off Levi ‘n Mammon which again will make Satan feel better :))

The first thing Asmo used was a pick glitter gel pen and his artwork is absolutely gorgeous~ (definitely something super shiny!!! but still gorgeous and he’s careful to stay at the other end of the table away from Levi and Mammon helpsjsj)

All the supplies have to be non-toxic and absolutely no one can try drawing or making anything resembling food- Also just imagine Belphie taking the paint water away from Beel and putting it by his drink….so a little later sleepyhead accidentally drink some instead lolol also anything Belphie actually makes looks like it’s out of a horror movie while Beel’s is just…abstract :)

Diavolo’s feels like a callout as the kid who was always covered in paint but he’s so happy with his little somewhat lumpy pompom and little painting!! Just look at his sweet smile!!!

Barbatos doesn’t even need to threaten Mammon or Levi- they take one look his way and see that smile and know they better knock it off and behave- also how??? Sir it’s gorgeous but how??? Hell he probably made a fully functioning little model of MC XD

Simeon and Luke are adorable as always!! It’s definitely something sweet, yet a little more simple, but still very cute! The shiny bits are perfect and they definitely made it with the intention of gifting it to MC when they’re done <3

Solomon……Solomon wtf why?….you could’ve drawn a stick man and it would’ve been better that…uhhh that- But he’s happy!! Also very, very proud of it and when you ask what it’s supposed to be he looks a little offended-

#awhwhwhw I loved this sm <3 #not a super crafty bitch myself but with these dummies it would be ✨fun✨ #obey me! #obey me #om! #obmswd #obey me fluff #om! fluff #obmswd fluff #obey me shall we date #obey me shenanigans #obey me headcanons #om! hcs #om! headcanons #obmswd hcs #obmswd headcanons #ro rambles #moot mail!

[prince-kallisto]

“An amusement park full of free games, rides, and food? I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to take a day off from my strenuous duties to goof off- I mean to supervise you all!”

This is my silly design for Crowley’s “Playful Land” event costume haha \(//∇//)\ Since the full story isn’t out yet, I may have jumped the gun a bit…but since all the students look like puppets, I thought it would be fun for Crowley to have a ringmaster theme. However, the outer accessories were meant to disguise him as a clown with a lot of inspiration drawn from carnival/fair attractions like carousels, shooting games, etc. But underneath it all, he’s still wearing a ringmaster’s outfit, if that makes sense

I talk more about my concept sketches and thought process below!

These two photos above are meant to be the final concept art showcasing my mental image of how his outfit works haha.

This design came to me surprisingly quick since I had a strong mental image of what I wanted him to look like. However, I DO wish I kept exploring with his design. I usually spend a lot of time in the exploration phase, especially when it’s for a nicer drawing. This above concept art was pretty much the “final” design I made before I started drawing him. And as you can tell from the finished art, there were quite a few changes…the amount of changed details alone make it an entirely different outfit haha. It caused me a lot of pain while sketching AND inking…I think I got overexcited with this event and I jumped right into inking. In fact, I had a start from scratch after inking my first art- the proportions and design was all wrong haha. A lesson learned.

From the start, I knew I wanted a ringmaster-disguised-as-a-clown theme, but I think the detachable clown pants really put it all together haha. I like outfits that can “shed” themselves to reveal a hidden theme underneath.

In his initial final design, he had a red feathered coat, meant to resemble the feathers in the students hats. This was one of the many things that changed last minute because I didn’t like how the big cost looks in Crowley’s pose haha. But I like this change better actually- it stands out to his usual headmasters coat, and it resembles Malleus’s masquerade cape. His coat lapels are decorated to look like a piano- I think there was a piano scene in Pinocchio? I actually didn’t check at all…

The carousel hat was the first thing I came up with haha, I thought it was funny. I wonder if it’s functional…that would be a funny animation haha. His bird mask is too iconic to drastically change, so it’s just a different color and shape with some beading to look like clown makeup/tears. I love how the novel describes Crowley as flamboyant yet melancholic…

I’ve only gone to a fair once in my life many years ago, so I had to search up common carnival games. I’ve seen festival games in Japanese media, where a rifle with a wooden cork is used to shoot down plushies/other prizes- and I think it would be a really fun and eccentric cane design haha. Perhaps if someone is really misbehaving, he can aim a cork at them? 🤭

The shape of his tie and thigh harness was another sudden design choice made during official drawing, but I like it! It incorporated the ribbons everyone else has without having Crowley being the one “controlled.” The gold points on his shoes are actually removable- it’s part of his “clown” theme. The white spats were made to match him with Fellow Honest- like a hint that he’s not one of the performers since he matches with the owner of Playful Land. Ahhh I’m still learning how to use gouache, and the background was a mess…but it’s inspired off of this Pinocchio concept art! It’s so gorgeous! I’m sorry Ortho…

And finally, the masks on his waist. They’re wrapped around his waist with rope, and are made to resemble the faces of certain characters. Average Kallisto moment of being the most unsubtle person ever with my theories LMAO. Anyway, I thought it would be the perfect event to include various masks on his costume in a similar placement where the mirrors are in his regular outfit. Since he has a lot of carnival game themes in his outfit, perhaps he can pretend he’s a mask vendor haha.

@marrondrawsalot Haha I’m not sure if you remember, but a long while back I made a Glorious Masquerade Crowley design, and we decided that I could tag you if I made a future event design. It’s been a while! ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

#twisted wonderland #twst #my art #twst playful land #dire Crowley #twst Crowley #twst dire Crowley #kallistopost #twst fanart #twst art #sndbxhsj sorry that the photo looks blurry #I had to use some editing to hide to streaky gouache in the background andddd and messed up the resolution #I mean I prefer that over the terrible background but #NSBXHSJS one of the moments I’d prefer to do digital art #because I think half of my issues would’ve been solved LOL #or maybe I should just Get Good at painting… #yeah 👉👈

[saintmuses]

❝𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙖 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙢𝙚❞

Pairing:

Tom Buckley x Best Friend!Reader

Summary:

When looking at her standing in her white dress, Tom realized he had to be the one to cut the string that tied him and her together despite not wanting to, but he had to.

Warning(s): Angst. Implied jealousy. Mutual pining, but unrequited love. Implied psychic powers. Implied toxic relationship (Reader/Sal). Minors dni! Note: Sal Owen is the male equivalent of Sally in the movie. Also Tom gives me a vibe that girls break his heart. Margaret Matheson is alive in this fic. Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac especially live version is my Roman Empire!

Word Count: 2k

Tom knocked on the door tentatively, the sounds of his knuckles -the knuckles he had dealt with violence who dared to cross his line that night in the theater- rapping against the wood echoed, drawing the attention of someone in the room.

Y/N turned away from the standing mirror at the corner of the room to face him. He could see that her eyes widened when they laid on him.

"Tom," she said his name in breathless-like quality in her voice as she stared at him. Her hair was curled lightly, and it cascaded down her back, away from her face. His eyes flickered to her hands when she gripped the dress as she looked down.

She was a vision.

He inclined his head towards her, "Y/N." He said her name simply, but it held so much emotion that he held back from her.

"You came," she beamed at him, and the sight of her smile had his heart flutter as he smiled in return.

He then chuckled softly, "how could I not." 

He was seventeen when he met her in the hallway at high school. Her locker was next to his, and they had met when her lock was jammed, and she had roped him into helping her. She went out of her way to bake him his favorite sweets out of gratitude. 

She came and went throughout the years, but they were still best of friends.

He'd remembered the days when she would laugh that slight airy sound that would've warmed his heart, except she was laughing with Sal Owen, her fiancé. He wasn't amused by it, the jokes her fiancé had made in an attempt to make her laugh, wasn't funny at all.

When Y/N left her then-boyfriend the first time after he barely put any efforts in their relationship, she came down to the city to stay with him. It was one of the best and the worst things that could ever happen to him. It was torture, her being nearby all the time and not being able to do anything about it.

She helped him with PowerPoint presentations, put together experiments that debunked supernatural phenomena, and would be a volunteer during Dr. Matheson’s lectures. She loved her like a family.

There was a little animosity from Margaret’s side due to the fact that Y/N was ditzy, but she quickly warmed up to her after learning that she was nothing like she portrayed herself to others who did not know her.

A simple phone call from Sal had Y/N pack up her bags and leave his place.

She came and went, just like that.

Then Y/N and Sal were back together, and he was okay with it because he knew it would end again.

It ended again, a different reason this time. He was caught with another woman, and it broke her.

She had called him one night, with the sounds of sniffling and a shaky voice had him running to the town and take her back to his place like before. 

He was there for her when no one else couldn't. 

She had confessed in a small voice when they were sitting on the couch, saying she missed being here more than where she was at with her ex-boyfriend, and she was considering moving to be closer to him.

It gave him a slither of hope. That he might had a chance, but he wouldn't do anything until she was emotionally feeling better. It wouldn't be good if he took advantage of her in her vulnerable state.

He wished for her to see that Sal wasn't worthy of her affections.

He loved her and he wanted to do this right.

The situation with a world-renowned psychic Simon Silver got out of hand and had taken him away from her.

That was when Sal somehow wormed his way back to her heart, and things were okay again.

With a heavy heart, he knew it wasn't the right time for them.

They talked a few times in few and far between.

When Margaret, his co-worker and a good friend received an invitation to the wedding, she was wide eyed when he entered the lecture. Fortunately for both of them, the classroom was empty. She knew how much he loved Y/N, and dreaded telling him the news.

With a whisper, she told him that his best friend was getting married.

He did nothing but walked out of the room with an unreadable expression.

Tom knew Margaret was somewhat in a foul mood due to his careful stoic persona turned abrasive and irritated which affected the rest of the students.

He tried to keep it together that day, stoic and professional-like, then once the day went by, it was time for him to go home to his empty place.

That was when he’d let go of his façade.

He lashed out in his apartment, turning his room upside down far too many times, and he would be solemnly silent in the dark of nightfall.

A few days before the wedding, Margaret stormed into his office with her arms crossed, staring down at him with hard eyes while he was sitting by his desk, and proceeded to tell him that he needed to get his act together and go to his best friend’s wedding.

She had told him that if he didn’t want his best friend marrying the guy who’d never treated her right then tell her before it was too late, but if he didn’t want to do that then he needed to let her go.

He thought of the memories all those years ago. In his darkest days, she had always been there for him, he hadn't known she wouldn’t make him forget who he was.

Not even his previous relationships were able to make him forget how he felt for the girl he met at the locker. He did love them; but his best friend, with her eyes fierce, and determination that came down onto him like an iron fist, had made his love for them pale in comparison.

He didn't want to fall in love with her; nothing good could come out of it being in love with their best friend, but how could he not when in her eyes, they were the windows to her soul, the one that made her different from the others who wronged him in the past.

Tom gazed at her as she looked out to the window to see the landscape of where she was having the venue at. 

With a sense of heavy heart sitting in his chest, he blinked placing his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

He would have to let her go.

"I came here because Margaret thinks that you shouldn't marry Sal." A tiny white lie slipped from his tongue, as he raked his eyes over her dress as a reminder that she could be making a potential mistake, in his eye that was.

"And I couldn't help but to agree with her," he said slowly, pride nearly rose up to prevent him from speaking any further, but he suppressed it.

Y/N turned away from the window to face him, with a slight disbelief on her face, a taut grimace on her lips. "What?"

He took a step forward, suddenly feeling the courage that he hadn't felt before. "Are you absolutely sure this is what you want?" He murmured.

He was beyond to the point of being exhausted of never getting what he wanted.

Between the time of her spending some time with him to the time of today, he was being driven slowly insane with affection and grief and longing.

A never-ending torment.

He just wanted her, to be loved by her. 

Wholly and irrevocably. 

It was his fault for her to not know how he felt about her, nor could he just expect her to read him, especially since he tried to keep his feelings locked up in the shields of his heart.

It wasn't a coincidence that he kissed her, hovering over her lips back when they were drunk together at a dive bar, excusing for his inebriated behavior. She tried to be someone else that night due to heartbreak she was experiencing again, but he saw right through her within a mile away. 

Y/N didn't dye her hair, it was not something she would do. That night her hair was a different color, she was trying to be different, and he knew that. He could tell the difference in her eyes that night; before when she had the first heartbreak, it was painful to look into her eyes. A third time, her eyes were more guarded and vulnerable all at once.

Since she was playing a game with her liver, he went along for the ride, alcohol running through his bloodstream. She wouldn't know that he was not as drunk as she was, and that was why he took advantage of kissing her.

It was something he had always wanted.

He was truly a selfish man, but he would never tell her so, and he got away with it when her lips caved under his lips. If he could do it again, he would.

When they crossed each other's paths over and over, there was always something in between them. Always. 

He knew he had feelings for her from the beginning, he knew people could see the adoration in his eyes whenever he looked at her, and he didn't care because no one would say anything. 

Even when Sal in the same room as him, he knew that Sal was reminded that there was a serious competition between them due to his position in her life and how long he had been a part of it; the way Sal shifted towards her as if he could protect her from him, hidden threats behind the snide words he tended to throw at him, and most of all, he hated when they spent any second together.

She had always rebelled against her fiancé when it came to him, defended him on her own premise, and trusted him explicitly.

Maybe, he had thought she felt something for him too.

Now, he wasn't so sure, and he hated being unsure of anything, especially something this important. She was supposed to be his. His. Her fiancé didn't appreciate her the way she deserved. Tom would have given her the moon and the stars if she had asked.

He saw her nearly faltered, and he blinked. "I just needed to know if it's something that you truly want, if that is what you desire." He murmured before sauntering over to her.

She didn't say anything other than sadness that flitted in her eyes when she looked at him and he swallowed thickly. With a sense of clarity with the way it was in her eyes when she gazed at him, he knew she loved him too, knowing she made her choice when she said yes to Sal.

Then she closed her eyes when his hand reached out to thread his fingers in her strands. He noticed that she leaned in his touch slightly, and it broke his heart even more.

"I don't want you to marry him, but I know you will.” He chuckled mirthlessly, inhaling slowly then exhaling which sounded shaky. Sadness radiated in his veins. “And when you do, this is it for me after tonight.” The sentence ended in a whisper as his bottom lip slightly trembled at the thought it would be the last time.

She slowly opened her eyes to peer at him under her eyelashes. With glassy eyes, she whispered, “why?"

However, she was always holding him at arm’s length, as if she was afraid of him being the one to truly break her heart, tear it out of her chest, and throw it to the ground for her to never be able to get it back in one piece.

Suddenly his throat began to close on him, and he inhaled sharply before feeling a brim of anguish. The emotion caused his eyes to soften with a bitter smile, he curled his fingers around her ear to brush away a loose strand before confessing.

"I love you, but you would not let me."

Perhaps in another life.

#tom buckley #tom buckley x reader #Tom Buckley x you #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #red lights #Tom Buckley x y/n

[project-sekai-facts]

Hey there! Thanks for all your hard work. I wanted to send something that would hopefully be fun and a break from the asks. What are your fave cards for each character (and why if you want to explain)? :D

no problem :) and thank you for the break haha

this is kinda long bc of the amount of images so i'll put it under a readmore. note that my reasoning kinda ranges from "it's pretty" to <ramble about art>.

Before Thinking About It (Live with memories)

This set is really pretty but Ichika definitely has the best card in it. I love the stars and the little fish things swimming about.

Rainy Distance (First Star After the Rain)

No I do not care that this was her first 4*. How can people say the old sets are bad like have you SEEN the Stella set? It's absolutely beautiful.

Because You're Our Dear Friend (Unwavering Feelings, Now Put Into Words)

This set is so pretty!! It’s one of my favorite perm sets. Honami's is definitely my favorite though because the twinkly stars really take it up a level.

The Right Path for Me (Colorful Festival)

Shiho looks really cool in this one and I love the artstyle. I like the sign that just says "sign".

For "Your" Sake (Let's Deliver! Hopeful Stage)

Another really good Year One set! I love the angel theming with Minori and giving her actual wings was such a cool idea. Faito faito Minorin!

Perfect Premonition (Connecting Painful Hope)

I vividly remember when this leaked it was a big day for MMJ fans. She looks really cool in this card and I like the sort of rockstar aesthetic it has. Easily my favorite card for her

To You Who Wants To Be An Idol (Colorful Festival)

One of my favorite cards in the game! The aesthetic is really cute and reminds me of pop art. I love the details on the eyes as well

With the Feeling of Shooting a Thousand Arrows (Draw Your Bow in This White World)

I still can’t believe that this set is perm it’s absolutely stunning. Easily Shizuku’s best card, she looks so ethereal here

Kaleidoscope of Footprints (Colorful Festival)

I love the colors and the art on this one. It’s really unique and definitely one of my favorite fes cards. Again I love how her eyes are drawn and colored.

Past Excitement (Colorful Festival)

This is An’s most recent 4* with neon lighting i just want them back. Also the Nagi-inspired hairstyle ueueueueue

The Reason Behind the Words I Was Told (Find A Way Out)

I love the emotion on this one like it carries really well. Honestly it’s not the prettiest or most interesting card ever but it resonates ygm. You can really feel his joy and passion in this one.

Feelings That Were Buried (Colorful Festival)

Ough his fes is so good. The symbolism as well like music is really important to Toya and it’s a huge part of his life but he's keeping this specific part behind a curtain for now. The fact it’s in the part of his fragment sekai that isn’t as derelict as the rest- it hurts.

Receiving Your Inspiration (A Sorrowful Farewell at the Curtain Call)

It was really close between this and Torpe but ultimately I chose this one. It’s really bright and warm compared to Rui's dark and cold and Nene's in-between and I think that's why it sticks out to me.

An Irreplaceable Smile (Smile of Dreamer)

Yumekawa sets are always some of my favorites and this set especially. Imo this is also the most “Emu” card so far like it’s so fun and colorful and imaginative

Dazzling Dream Stage (Colorful Festival)

Mary poppins nene!! Like I said with Emu this is probably one of the most “Nene” cards to me, she needs more stuff that has that classic musical theatre kinda vibe.

The Right Words to Throw (At This Festival Colored By Twilight)

I think this whole set was really pretty but this one is probably my favorite from it. I like the references to previous wandasho events and looking at this after Curtain Call just hits different yk

Flowerbed of Memories (Carnation Recollection)

Like I said with Akito this one is about the emotion. I think it captures the event story really well like if you have background context you can see all the connections to the Yoisaki family and Kanade reminiscing about that warmth.

The Silence That Only You Know (Draw Your Bow in This White World)

I had a really hard time picking my favorite but I think I’m gonna go for her archery card as well. I already said it but this set is great and I love the details in the background of this card as well.

Through Pain and Misery (On This Blank Canvas, I Paint)

I remember really well when this one leaked because it was around the time I started actively playing the game and I’m still in awe about it. It looks so good for a permanent card and we have never gotten another card like this.

Making Chocolates With Children (The Gentleman Thief's Thrilling White Day!?)

Not the most impressive choice but white day sets go hard. I love medieval/fantasy AU and this card is really cool. Also convinced that the artist does not know how heavy flagpoles are.

At Least, to Me (2nd Colorful Festival)

I love the victorian mad scientist look she’s bringing to the table. Also I like lore.

Sending My Singing Voice (On This Blank Canvas, I Paint)

Another emotion card. Rin being the one connected most to Ena and the way she’s embracing the art is so !!! It’s such a warm card as well you can really feel the way Ena feels about her craft.

Cheering For You (Colorful Festival)

The artists went all out for Kagamine fes the art looks so good. I don’t really have much to say about this one lol

Chalkboard Cherry Blossoms In Bloom (Sakura Across SEKAI, Interconnecting Our Feelings)

I love the colors on this one it looks so pretty; pink and purple palettes look so nice. Also leo/need with stars always a plus.

Reassuring Warmth (Get Over It.)

Probably my second favorite perm set after archery. I love space/sci-fi themed things and this is probably my favorite from that set. The colors are really nice and I like the lore implications of her solar system model

What Arrangement Would Be Good? (Draw Your Bow in This White World)

Shocker I picked archery again. What can I say, this set fucks.

#mod talks #asks #i'm posting this at 1am sorry for any typos

[the-burd-lord]

Finally am confident enough to post my redesign of Charlie. Buckle up cause it’s a lot!

Kept her simple since I think her original design is kinda alright, but went with the doll aesthetic more.

Made her design simple enough for it to stand out in most any environment within Hell. Should probably have made a colored version for her, but I'm keeping the white and pink from her original design, but making her outfit yellow to compliment the reds of Hell and the blues of Heaven.

Here’s the newest design although I'm still fiddling around with different variations for the marks on her face, shown later in this post. Might lean towards stop motion look with how the mouths of the characters are always a separate segment from the face.

Eventually she goes from bellhop to more of a concierge roll as she gains more confidence in running the hotel, and eventually becomes the defacto ruler of Purgatory.

More on that later.

Also lil Lucifer resign too. Might make a whole post about him, but the basics are that I decided to go more “biblically accurate” angel for him.

He made Charlie's body, with Lilith drawing up the design for what she would look like. Overtime Charlie got to choose what she wanted to look like. She has accrued many bodies over her thousands of years of living.

Their relationship is close as although they don't see each other in person as often, Charlie always makes time to have at least one phone call a week with her dad. Especially with his worsening depression.

He doesn't fully believe in the hotel idea, but he’s willing to support his daughter anyway he can. Although he is hesitant when she requests to have an audience with Heaven as he knows how fickle they can be.

Especially when her first meeting with an angel is spent talking about rock bands.

I also changed up what Charlie is as not only is she a doll, but she is also the manifestation of “free will.” Spawned from Lilith and Lucifer’s union being an action that goes against "god's plan."

Although she barely remembers it, her actions caused Adam and Eve to eat the apple. She partially made the hotel out of guilt for condemning humanity, feeling as though she has to make it up to the sinners she condemned.

This makes her super hesitant to push the patrons to get help as although she knows that it'll help them in the long run it must fully be by their own free will to want to change. This hesitance also leads her to not fully interfere in their afterlives either, even when she knows a push is all they'll need.

She is able to literally be anyone or anything, and she is scared of this fact. Kinda getting decision paralysis. Also being that she is a being made out of pure energy this essentially means she's a bomb.

This is the result of what happens to her once her form is broken.

These are the old designs, went with a more streamlined look later.

Heavily inspired by the final form of the Princess from Slay the Princess. A game I highly recommend!

When in her "chimera form" she accidentally kills Adam, leading her to take him on as a guest at her hotel. It also leads her to convince Heaven and Hell to use Mount Purgatorio for her new liminal hotel. Kinda using Adam as a bargaining chip to show heaven that if angels can fall, then that doesn't mean sinners can't climb up the mountain to Heaven.

Overtime, with more horror influences I kept adding into her character and design I accidentally just made her into a creepy doll with some analog influences.

(It's almost like my subconscious is trying to tell me something 🤔)

Vaggie and her scary gf.

Decided to go for a more psychological route for Charlie’s abilities and personality. On the surface appearing normal, but still standing out in most environments because of her simplicity. That there's just something about her that doesn't quite fit anywhere.

Her character finally clicked for me after watching Paranoia Agent. She's not really based off any characters from the show, but some of the themes and imagery are baked into her character.

Along with the banger opening.

Eventually she builds her hotel in purgatory, and essentially becomes its ruler. Much to the chagrin of Heaven, who still only sees her as a demon. Even though she was technically born in the heavens.

Even though Charlie uses Adam as a bargaining chip they don't really care that he fell. But they don't want to be proven wrong either, so they reluctantly agree to the idea.

Also lil bonus of Charlie and Vaggie in nightwear. Gotta make another post for Vaggie, but I’m still working some things out with her story and character.

I apologize if so much of this post made no sense. I didn't realize how much I had written for Charlie. Although makes sense as she is supposed to be the main character.

I am happy to answer questions if y'all want more clarification.

#Youtube #charlie morningstar #hazbin charlie #charlie hazbin hotel #hazbin redesign #hazbin rewrite #character redesign #character rewrite #vaggie #horror #horror art #sketch #digital sketch #sketch dump #sketches

[lt-natrace]

Bruised Knuckles || Natasha "Phoenix" Trace

Hi everyone, I've been a little MIA on here writing wise because my classes started again and I have been struggling with a balance of classes, work, and writing but here I am! I wrote this for @callsign-phoenix and her 500 follower celebration. I chose the prompt "Don't tell me you're fine, I can see the blood"

Description: Phoenix doesn't take shit from men that offend her or nurse!reader girlfriend

Content: includes violence, blood, sexist/gross comments from men, fluff at the end, phoenix is a badass

Word Count: 1.3k

Thank you to @blue-aconite for looking this over, it was very appreciated <3

The first time Phoenix saw you, she was in for a sprained ankle from a team bonding game day. In fact, as soon as you entered the room the pain in her ankle had magically disappeared and all she could focus on was trying to make you laugh. Bob saw right through her actions and mumbled out a “really Phoenix?” as soon as you left the room. From that moment on, she did whatever she could to see you and after two months of fake concussions and cold symptoms, she got the nerve to ask you out for a drink. 

That first date was almost 4 months ago. Since then you had gone on several more and eventually became an official couple. Due to the relationship being so fresh, the two of you decided to keep it under wraps, only letting a few close friends know of what was going on. Which is how Phoenix ended up at the Hard Deck without you. She insisted on you coming out with them but being in a sweaty bar with all the pilots you’d taken care of was the last place you wanted to be. 

Almost immediately after she got her first drink Hangman challenged Phoenix to a game of pool. The two of them were known for going up against each other in anything they could, especially a game of pool where the loser buys a round. While standing back to observe Hangman’s plan of attack she heard a few men letting out belly laughs across the pool table before one of them spoke above the rest, “I’m just saying that seeing a girl like that makes me wish they ditched the scrubs and went back to those little white dresses that nurses used to wear.”

Phoenix could’ve swore she felt her blood heat up as she continued to listen, hands tightening around the pool cue. Bob noticed her whitening knuckles and looked to where her eyes were set in a stare. Upon listening further, Bob immediately understood the cause of her growing rage. He shot her a warning look which was promptly ignored as Phoenix straightened her posture and took a step forward.  

“Phoenix-” Bob started in a low voice to avoid drawing attention as he stuck his hand in front of her.

He was cut off by Phoenix’s pool cue being handed to him as she walked by, “It’ll be real quick, Bob.”

The other members of the team quieted and shared confused glances before looking towards Bob for an explanation. He ignored their looks, focused on Phoenix’s actions as she made her way towards the men.

“Couldn’t help but overhear you talking about that new nurse, the one that should ditch the practical scrubs?” She questioned, cocking her head in an attempt to play dumb.

The taller of the men sat up straighter and glanced at the others before looking back to Phoenix and speaking up, “I mean yeah, what does it matter? We’re at a navy bar and if it offends you, maybe this job isn’t right for a little girl like you.”

Phoenix let out a scoff before trying to swallow her anger as she took a step forward, “Just didn’t like some of the things I heard, pretty disrespectful to talk about someone in the same field as you like that.”

“C’mon honey-“ The man tried but was cut off by Phoenix’s fist hitting his nose, blood pouring out almost immediately

Bob jumped forward as soon as it happened to help defend his pilot’s actions, mumbling out curses as he set the pool cue against the wall. Phoenix held up her hand to stop him as she grabbed her jacket from the chair and left cash on the counter before Bob could lecture her or anyone could ask questions.

—————-

The sound of your door unlocking caused you to jump up and check the time on the stove, wondering if you’d fallen asleep and missed Phoenix’s call asking to be picked up. To your surprise it was only 10pm, she had never been home this early after a night out but you couldn’t complain. 

“Hey baby,” she greeted you, bringing you in for a kiss before you could ask any questions, “I brought home some pizza in case you were hungry.”

Her actions continued to confuse you, “Thank you, but we ate dinner like 3 hours ago, right before you left. Everything alright?” You asked, struggling to finish your sentences as she continued to push your hair out of your face and pepper kisses on your cheeks.

“Everything is fine, even better now that I’m back here with you.” She mumbled against your jaw before placing kisses down your neck, smirking as you let out a quiet moan. 

As you realized what she was trying to do, you grabbed her hands from your face, not missing the slight wince in her face as the palm of your hands brushed her knuckles. On instinct you flipped her hands over to look at the tops of them, noting the dried blood and blue bruises forming. 

She ripped her hands back and your eyes met hers, “I can explain but I promise I’m fine.”

“Don’t tell me you’re fine, I can see the blood!” You exclaimed, grabbing her hands back to take a closer look. “Jesus, Nat.”

Before she could protest anymore, you pulled her into your bathroom and helped her onto the counter and out of her jacket. You shuffled around under the sink until you found everything you needed, a giggle leaving Phoenix’s mouth as she saw how much you had pulled out, “You can put away the tape and gauze, the blood’s not mine.”

When you looked up at her, she was staring at her knuckles and trying to rub the blood off of her skin in order to avoid eye contact with you. As you saw her smile fall and turn to a look of shame you stood up to be at eye level, grabbing her face in the process. 

“What the hell did you get into?” You asked, forcing her to keep eye contact. She stayed silent for a moment and you let her gaze fall back to her bruised knuckles.

“He was talking about you,” she mumbled out after a moment, your confused look urging her to keep talking, “the guy at the bar, some new recruit, was saying disrespectful things about you and I just couldn’t stand to sit there and listen anymore.”

Your heart swelled as you listened to her story. You were the kind of person to brush off gross comments about your profession, your body, or whatever else men decided they had something to say about you. To have someone that respected you enough to say something in your defense was such a new concept and it made you fall even harder for the woman in front of you that was trying her best not to stain the counter with blood. 

“Oh baby…” you whispered, barely loud enough to be heard above the fan and movie playing in the next room.

Phoenix looked up with apologetic eyes, “I didn’t mean to make a scene-”

You cut her off with a harsh kiss, cupping her face to keep her close. After a moment, she reached her hands up to yours to get your attention to pull away, “Are you mad that I might have spoiled this secret thing we’ve had going on?”

“I could never be mad at you for this,” you replied, holding her face close to yours, “but no more fighting, you’re too good at what you do for your skills to be washed down the drain.”

“Deal, but only if you put your skills to use and fix up my hands so I can thank my pretty girl” She said, a smirk appearing on her face.

#my writing #natasha phoenix trace #natasha trace #phoenix #natasha phoenix trace fic #natasha trace fic #phoenix fic #top gun fic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick fic #top gun x reader #phoenix x reader #natasha trace x reader

[dekusleftsock]

IVE BEEN A GOOD KID AND IVE ACTUALLY LET MYSELF LIKE. THINK ABOUT THE OFFICIAL TRANSLATIONS SO. HERE WE GO BITCHES.

(Along with some other things bouncing around, implications of togachako because of this chapter, maybe even a prediction? This is my FINAL THOUGJTS POST, unless ofc I notice something and I say it BUT HOPEFULLY THIS IS THE LAST AND ITS JUST GONNA BE ME BEING SILLY AND POSTING FANART)

1, i find it funny that Caleb said lickitung than Pikachu since that… totally doesn’t make sense nor was why Twice suggested the name. IDK IM A POKÉMON NERD AND AN MHA FAN SO I JUST FIND IT A LITTLE SILLY.

Like I think Horikoshi chose Pikachu bc it’s the most recognizable Pokémon, along with Himiko’s “chu-chu” noises she makes when she drinks blood ofc, but it was also probably suggested bc… Pikachu has the same blushies that Ochako has…

Not to mention the fact that Pikachu is also representative of Toga’s colors, those of course being red and yellow.

Lickitung makes no sense other than the fact that it paralyzes people/Pokémon by licking them and making them uncomfortable. It’s such a… random gen 1 Pokémon idfk. I can see WHY he chose it, because lickitung is supposed to be a friendly Pokémon that accidentally makes people uncomfortable, but I think Pikachu being said instead just makes far more sense; Pikachu is supposed to be a cute Pokémon. It’s origins in gen 1 were, “I want you to make the cutest Pokémon you can” and the artist Atsuko Nisida had to go through 3-5 iterations of pixel art (bc they would make the pixelated version for the game first AND THEN draw the Pokémon from that) before finally settling on what people call “fat Pikachu” which looked like this

Lickitung works ig by being a Pokémon that ultimately is harmless to people but just accidentally freaks people out and makes them off-put by them, but Pikachu fits much better in a chapter where Ochako calls Himiko’s smile, something we’re supposed to see as creepy, perfect/pretty/beautiful. Comparing her and her cuteness to something like Pikachu just seems like something twice would do anything bc he’s a sweetie like that.

ALSO ANOTHER THING FOR PEOPLE WHO KNOW NOTHING ABOUT POKÉMON: reguri is I think the most popular ship? That might be beat by Selena/ash and misty/ash, but regardless it’s super popular and also is EXTREMELY SIMILAR to bkdk.

This does depend on which version of them you’re talking about, but personally when I read pokespe (the most popular official Pokémon manga, there’s others but that’s just the most well known one) I always thought bkdk were so similar to red/blue to the point it was uncanny. At the time I thought “eh that’s just gay rival tropes there’s tons of other characters in other anime/manga/tv that are similar to them too” but after the mention OF Pikachu and Toga’s purposeful similarities I do wonder if horikoshi was a Pokémon fan in the 90’s during his childhood. That wouldn’t surprise me seeing as the games were such a booming success in Japan (literally it’s the most sold Pokémon games ever nothing has beat it since), so it would make sense if horikoshi was a secret Pokémon fan.

I mean, blues hair is even similar to bakugous but idk, maybe it’s a stretch.

They’re not childhood friends in pokespe, but they are childhood friends in the games, blue bullying him as they got older and pushing red away, red goes and has an emo arc on mount silver by himself without telling anyone, eventually comes down from that mountain in black and white 2 where red and blue are starting to be friends again, and I don’t think they’re seen again until sun and moon where they’re on vacation together in alola. There’s other outside game content that has just… progressively gotten more gay.

AGAIN, IM NOT SURE IF HORIKOSHI HAS READ THE POKESPE MANGA OR IF HE PUT THIS MUCH THOUGHT INTO IT! However I WILL say that if you enjoy bkdk you will probably enjoy reguri and the pokespe manga, especially since it has a more interesting plot than the anime or games, along with being less corny. It’s a lot more… I don’t wanna say graphic but honest? It wasn’t really made in mind that it would be targeted overseas like all the other Pokémon stuff, so it’s just more honest about environmental issues and pet abuse and things like that. Red and blues character arcs and friendship, along with Leaf’s character arc is very interesting just by itself, highly recommend.

MOVING ON… my Pokémon nerdiness aside, I love Himiko’s defiance to conform to hero society especially as a villain. Will she go against this vow because she sees herself as a full fledged villain? I wasn’t really sure.

She didn’t, which is great, but I also think those themes of pity and feeling like Ochako is still looking down on her… remind me exactly of Katsuki.

I also find this page and what toga says quite interesting.

Saying that she KNEW ochako was sad too, that’s a VERY interesting observation to make when thinking of someone you “hate”.

And I like the distinction that Ochako wasn’t afraid of Toga because of her smile being creepy, or that she was trying to harm her or tsu, but because she couldn’t understand why she was smiling during a fight.

More bakugou vibes/lines

If/when they ARE canon, explicitly and completely and all that, then that would make mha a, and idk if it’s the first, shonen GL + BL. That would be fucking crazy.

ALSO THIS? THIS IS ABSOLUTELY NOT AN IZU//OCHA MOMENT… let me explain.

It’s a couple of things: Ochako is not explicitly saying how she wishes she could talk about her love with Izuku, instead it seems to be more framed as talking ABOUT Izuku.

He’s not even looking at her, and she’s not looking at him; no, instead Ochako and Himiko are looking at each other, and talking about the importance to talk about your feelings openly, how she admires that quality to Himiko.

In a way this is Ochako saying “No, don’t become like him, this is why I admire you. That trait makes you admirable, it’s a trait I love in you.”

And lastly, that marriage proposal. Is it REALLY a marriage proposal? How romantic or platonic is this this scene?

Well, I went back and read chapter 348 to find out, and a little detail disregarded, not only by me but everyone else, was the line, “If you ask me, being a couple means being one and the same. Makes sense right? Nothing else… would fulfill my desires.”

And then ochako in 393, purposely bearing her feelings to Himiko and offering her blood to her? Even with this knowledge? The knowledge that Himiko would see this as a confession? Fucking crazy.

For all her flaws, I can perfectly picture why Ochako would prefer someone who sees romance like she does, openly unapologetic about her feelings like she is, over someone who can’t even see a teenage girls confession as an actual confession of love. Way to be selfish Izuku.

(God he would be SO offended at all the shit talking I’ve been doing to him recently HAHA! BUT HE NEEDS TO HEAR IT BC HES AN IDIOT WHO SHOULD BE TAKING HIS FEELINGS SERIOUSLY. How are you going to let the hot headed blonde kid that bullied you be better at this. HOW.)

So yes, I think this is so explicitly romantic, I literally thought this scene would never fucking happen because I KNEW how gay it was, how gay everyone KNEW it was—but god damn. Horikoshi you mad man.

#togachako #himiko toga #togaraka #togaocha #ochako uraraka #mha 393 #mha chapter 393 #mha deku #togachako brainrot

[thegreatnterrible]

JOHN DOE NSFW-ABC

John Doe's nsfw alphabet just because he deserves one.

NSFW! I don't want any minors to interact with this text!

TW: Mature themes, blood, non-con, stalking

John Doe - genderfluid (he/him)

You/Reader - gender neutral

A = Aftercare

Doe loves aftercare, especially cuddling. He wraps his arms, legs and his surprisingly lively dark curls around each part of your poor body, he won’t let you go. Doe takes advantage of the fact that you are tired and he would never help you to clean yourself (since he even would never let you do this) afterwards, that’s the way he prefers you, dirty and sweaty.

B = Body part 

Obviously, he adores every part of your body.

Talking about Doe’s body, his most sensitive part is hair. He loves you petting, playing and pulling his curls. He wouldn’t mind if you tugged his hair hard while he gave you oral.

Doe is also weak for you touching his scars. And his ears are delicate too. He is literally trembling when you’re gently tucking his hair and whispering something in his ear, or, maybe, licking him behind his ear.

C = Cum

Doe needs to cover you in his cum. He loves making things dirty, he would love to cum on your face, chest/breast, stomach, thighs or whatever. He especially likes to fill your mouth, pleading you to stick out your tongue to admire the sight of white thick ropes of his cum on it. 

He usually puts his fingers in the puddle of cum on your stomach and draws hearts or other silly doodles, then he makes you lick his dirty fingers.

D = Dirty secret 

He has a lot, but doesn’t keep it a secret. He has done a lot of dirty things like stealing your underwear, jerking off on you while you’re sleeping, watching you change clothes through the window. 

Usually he just throws these facts in your face during breakfast. “did you know that I licked the dirty forks you ate with?”

E = Experience 

He isn’t experienced at all, moreover he actually didn’t even know what sex was. One day you were lying in each other's arms and kissing and he just felt the tension in his lower stomach. You had to explain to him how the genital works and the concept of intimacy between people. Then you showed it to him, gently stroking his lengths until he had his first orgasm. After this experience, he couldn’t stop thinking about sex and how people do this and what you have more to show him.

F = Favorite position

His top choice is missionary, because he can see all your body and, the most important, your face. He loves you riding him the most and he prefers any pose in which he can admire your facial expression.

G = Goofy 

Sex is a new concept for Doe, he is a bit nervous so he wouldn’t act goofy or humorously, but he remains as silly as usual. He can’t help but smile with his eerie grin during sex and sometimes it gets disturbing.

H = Hair

He doesn’t shave himself at all. And the carpet does match the drapes, he still has this black curles down. He doesn’t understand the sense of grooming and he would prefer you having your hair, but he doesn’t care much though. Because of his interest in human habits, he would like to help you shave your intimate areas himself, just to take a curious look there and touch it once more.

I = Intimacy 

He is an old good gentlemen. All his knowledge about romantic things comes from the rom comes he loves to watch, so usually his flirt is silly, but it’s always genuine, and that makes up all the awkwardness.

J = Jack off

He does this every time you aren’t available for intimacy. He uses your photos and underwear or just clothes that smells like you. Though, he can be satisfied only with thoughts and his imagination. He would close his eyes and even talk to himself some of the hot replicas he imagined.

K = Kink Okay, I think there will be a long list, but some of the most important ones:

Blood kink and knife play. He doesn’t like the idea of hurting you, so he’ll probably ask you to cut him instead during sex.

Somnophilia. Doe will touch you while you’re asleep, starting with light strokes and moving on to gripping your thighs and wet kisses, just because he is curious when it’ll be too noticeable and you’ll wake up.

Submission. Doe likes to obey you, listening to your commands and fulfill all your wishes. He likes the praise you give him even more and he wants to deserve his praise. He would also like to dress up for you, whether it's lacy lingerie, stockings or a maid outfit.

L = Location

Usually you do things at home in your bed, but he doesn’t care at all about the place. Doe needed time to understand human norms and stop trying to undress you in public.

Bonus: Doe definitely has some dreams of fucking you at the gas station, he finds this place special due to “oh isn’t that romantic, we met there and had a talk, now let me fuck you right behind the counter”

M = Motivation

Literally every little thing you do.

You bent down to tie shoelaces? What a sight. You’re changing into your home clothes after work? Let Doe help you. Got your hand stuck in the washing machine? Doe saw a couple of videos of what people do in such situations.

N = No

As soon as Doe realized that you’re a fragile human and gained some knowledge of human anatomy, he became afraid of harming you. 

So he wouldn’t do something dangerous, though he likes blood and knives. But sometimes he gets overexcited and can really go too far.

O = Oral 

Doe prefers to give. He wouldn’t go against your will to give him oral, he will with pleasure look at you kneeling down before him. He is a total mess while receiving, you can see him trembling and shaking. He would literally cry from stimulation if he could. 

But once his head is between your legs you can’t stop him. He keeps whispering some blurred lines like “aww you’re tho tawsty”. Doe can make you finish in minutes, but he won’t stop after that, he will keep devouring your cum and there is nothing you can do about it. Also, his tongue.

The only way to stop this machine is to pull his head away by the hair, but he still keeps smiling at you, his gaze is thirsty, his lips are wet.

P = Pace

He is fast and mostly rough. Even if it started out gentle and slow, Doe breaks into a fast pace, fucking you into the mattress, clinging to your hips and waist so hard that bruises remain, quickly hitting his hips against your body.

Q = Quickie 

Usually your sex is a quickie, Doe initiates it at least twice a day, in the morning and before going to bed. and only on lucky days can he persuade you for a third or fourth time in the middle of the day.

R = Risk 

He would like to take any risk with you. Doe trusts you fully and he is excited to hear any of your ideas. He can sometimes offer something new, but usually his ideas are silly and don’t make any sense, like “let’s try to fuck upside down”

S = Stamina 

Doe doesn’t last long, he comes really quickly, but he has his inhuman stamina and he will go for many rounds. 

T = Toys

Doe doesn’t have any toys himself, but he will gladly buy you one as a christmas present once he finds up what it is. 

U = Unfair

He is too impatient to tease you and make you (or himself) wait. 

But Doe kinda likes to be teased, actually. He will gladly beg and cry for you, though he can’t go on like this for a long time.

V = Volume

He doesn’t moan or make loud sounds, more like something muffled. Doe can sob and whimper prettily for sure.

Whether it's a curse or compensation for his lack of moans, he chatters all the time. It can be quiet nonsense that he whispers in your ear or loud confessions of love, but he never shuts up. 

Getting him a gag should be a good idea.

W = Wild card 

Doe has a piss kink. It’s canonical and incredibly reasonable.

X = X-ray 

Whatever. He is a shapeshifter and he is fucking interested, you discover different things every day in his pants.

He would use his ability to shapeshift to please you, make his dick the perfect size, his pussy extra tight and wet for you, or he would make something spicy like a tentacle between his legs.

Y = Yearning 

Surprisingly, not so high I guess. I’m sorry for picturing Doe as a pervert teenager previously, it seems to me that he is a more sensual type, who prefers cuddling and kissing to actual sex.

Z = Zzz 

Doe doesn’t need to sleep anyway. But he likes to feel your relaxed body in his arms, likes to hear your quiet breathing, to see how your chest falls and rises. It’s hard to fall asleep next to him, mostly because of his constant unblinking gaze and his clinginess, but the inhuman warmth of his body fully makes up for it.

Thanks for reading! I also write one shots according to your requests. Let me know if you want something more from me ;)

Also there is a link to this work on ao3, I'll be glad for your support.

#john doe #john doe game #john doe headcanons

[pawnshopbleus]

Put Me in a Movie - Chapter Thirteen

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary - You’re a famous actress and he’s one of the greatest directors of all time. What happens when you get cast in his new movie? 

Chapter Twelve 

Two weeks have gone by and dating Miguel felt like heaven. He was a family man. He always put his family first, especially his daughter. Gabriella was the light of his life and you were a close second. You were okay with that though, nothing could be more important than the bond between a parent and a child.

Today, you had a date with Miguel. It was nothing fancy, just brunch at a new underground restaurant that just opened in Los Angeles. This would be your first public appearance as a couple. To say that you were nervous would be an understatement.

Stella told you that this would be risky considering that Jessica still had some die-hard fans. No matter how much Jessica would defend you, some of them would still hate you.

You were wearing a casual top and a white pleated tennis skirt. It’s what Miguel told you to wear. He didn’t want to draw too much attention to you. He wanted this to be as intimate as possible.

There was a knock at your door and some barking that followed. Miguel was dropping off Fern after she had a sleepover with Gabriella. He was also here to take you out on your date. Even though he told you to dress casually, you still tried to look your best.

You opened the door and saw Miguel standing there with a dog in one arm and beautiful pink roses in the other.

“Oh, Miguel, you didn’t have to,” you smiled softly at him. Your heart was melting at the fact that he was gentlemanly enough to get you a gift. Fern wiggled from his arms and jumped into the threshold of your home. “Do you want to come in?”

“Please,” Miguel kissed your cheek as he walked into your home. “Is there somewhere you want me to put this?”

“Just give them to me and I’ll put them in a vase.” You walked over to one of your cabinets and grabbed a pretty green vase that used to be Princess Diana’s that you won in an auction. It’s one of your most prized possessions to date.

“You ready?” Miguel asked as he rubbed the back of his neck.

The water was still running as you tried to process the question. You really liked Miguel and you were willing to do anything as long as they didn’t push your boundaries. Sometimes, the fans could be brutal to the partners of their celebrity crushes. Miguel had a lot of fan girls, you used to be one of them, but never to that extreme. For example, people call Zawe Ashton, a great actress, Tom Hiddleston's soon-to-be wife, and the mother of his child, ‘ugly and not good enough for Tom’ even though Zawe is a beautiful woman who doesn’t deserve the hate.  

“I think I can handle it.” You run off the tap when the water gets halfway full in the vase. You put the vase on the table and cut the roses diagonally at the bottom and put them into the vase.

“If it gets too much just tell me, mi linda princesa.” He took your head in his hands and leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “Now, we need to go. Turns out the place needed reservations and we have one for two thirty.”

The drive to the restaurant was hot and not in a steamy way. You loved living in California, it was definitely better than living in your small town in the middle of nowhere, but sometimes the heat could get unbearable. You were lucky though, you were sure the people in Arizona would trade the heat any day.

Someone must have tipped off the paparazzi that you and Miguel were going to be there today because when you arrived at the restaurant, there were at least five paparazzo's there. What year were you guys in? 2005?

“If you want, I can get out and open your door for you,” Miguel said as soon as he parked the car in one of the closest available spots.

You made eye contact with one of the paparazzi and rolled your eyes as he pointed his camera at Miguel’s car. You shook your head, “It’s fine. I’m a big girl. I can do this” “Alright.” Miguel got out of the car and waited for you on the hood of his car. Flashes and flashes of lights and clicks of the camera sounded as soon as Miguel exited the car. You knew that he would look good in the pictures. He always looks good.

Miguel pushed through the crowd that was starting to form in the front of the restaurant as you trailed behind him.

“O’Hara for two,” Miguel told the hostess at the front of the restaurant.

The hostess ushered you to a secluded room in the back of the restaurant. The lighting was dim, there were candles on the table which gave the room a waxy smell and more lighting, and there was a tablecloth that covered the entire table and fell to the floor. A person could hide under the table and no one would ever know.

“Let me know if you need anything.” The hostess said as she placed the menus on the table. She lingered for a second longer than needed to look into Miguel’s eyes. You really wanted to be a girl’s girl, but sometimes girls made it too hard.

“What are you going to get?”

“I don’t know, the steak and eggs look good, but I’m deciding between two options right now.” Miguel subtly bit his lip.

“And they are?”

“The steak and eggs or you.” “You want to eat me? Who are you? Armie Hammer?” You tried to steer the situation into something more humorous, but that didn’t quench his undeniable thirst for you.

“I’ll stop if you want me to, but I want you and I want to show you how much you mean to me.”

“Here?” You asked and he nodded his head. You looked around the room and spotted two security cameras pointing at the two of you. “But there are cameras.”

“I paid for them to be off today. No one will see, I promise.”

“Okay,” you squeaked out.

You didn’t know what he meant by when he said that he needed you, but when you saw him sink to his knees and crawl under the table you knew. Maybe this is why he wanted you to wear a skirt today.

He slowly spreads your thighs apart as his mouth trailed kisses down your thighs. “Are you sure you want this?” Miguel’s voice came out a bit muffled due to him being under a table that was covered by a tablecloth. You nodded your head and then you realized that he couldn’t see you so you said, “Yes.”

He kissed you through your panties. You could feel yourself getting wetter with each touch of his lips on your clothed pussy. Miguel’s fingers hooked onto the waistband of your panties and slowly lowered them revealing your pussy to him. Miguel nearly groaned in delight as he saw that your body was reacting to him.

His middle finger caressed its way up and down your slit, spreading your wetness. Miguel’s mouth soon found its way to your clit, gently sucking it in his mouth. Your hips bucked in pleasure as your body reacted to the gift Miguel was giving you.

Then, the same hostess came into the room, asking if the two of you needed anything. She noticed that Miguel was gone and decided to bring that up. Little did she know that he was currently on his knees eating you out like no one has before.

You tried your best to compose yourself as Miguel didn’t stop attacking your cunt with his skilled tongue. “He went to the bathroom,” you lied. You nearly panted that out as Miguel licked a long stripe from your hole all the way up to your sensitive clit.

The hostess asked you if you needed water or anything. That was nice of her considering that usually waiters were the ones to get the guests their beverages and food. “I’m fine,” you said as you politely smiled at the hostess.

“Yea, so is your friend. Do you think I could get his number?” The hostess sat in Miguel's seat and put her chin on the back of her hand. Miguel thought that it was a great time to insert two of his precious fingers into you while he continued to lap at your clit. Everything was becoming too overwhelming. Miguel eating you out under the table and this girl obviously trying to steal your boyfriend. It’s no wonder that she didn’t notice what was going on under the table considering that you couldn’t sit still.

You were close. You could feel it and so could Miguel. “He’s my,” a moan slipped out as Miguel continued his assault on your sensitive pussy. You tried your best to cover it up with a cough, “He’s my boyfriend.”

The hostess’s face dropped. She displayed severe disappointment but she didn’t leave. “By the way, why were those people taking pictures of you and your boyfriend earlier?”

“I act and stuff,” you breathed out. All you wanted was for this seemingly nice girl to leave so that you could come in peace.

“Oh, I know you were in that one movie!” The hostess slammed her hands down on the table causing Miguel to hit his head in surprise. Luckily, the hostess didn’t hear it. “Do you think we could get a picture together?”

“Look,” you looked at the hostess’s name tag. Emma was her name. “Emma, I mean this in the nicest way possible, could you please leave?”

Her face dropped with disappointment yet again. You promised her you would take a picture with her on your way out. Now that she was gone, your thighs nearly squeezed Miguel’s head off as they closed on instinct. He spread them open again and kept them in place, causing him to hit a new angle.

“Fuck, I’m going to come,” you said as you threaded your fingers through Miguel’s hair. Your breath hitched for a moment before your body fell into an earth-shattering orgasm.

Miguel’s hand made an appearance and began looking for a napkin. He eventually found one and began to clean you up. He put your underwear back on you and climbed out from under the table.

Your head fell back in the aftershocks of pleasure. He wiped his mouth, getting rid of the stains of your arousal. Just as you were about to thank him for his random act of kindness, the waiter came in.

“Hello, my name is Ben, I’ll be your waiter today, what can I get for the two of you?”

Miguel ordered first, “Yes, I’ll get water and the steak and eggs.”

Chapter Fourteen

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x female reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #fan fiction

[disturbedbeautywrites]

Just A Dream - Jake Hangman Seresin

Warning: This is 100% angst. The first few paragraphs are cute and fluffy, but after that it is straight up heart-breaking angst. Main character death, pregnancy, cursing, and just overall dealing with death. Lots of grieving.

I couldn’t get this idea out of my head and I had to write it because I wanted to challenge myself as a writer.

“I can’t wait to be his wife, Phoenix.” The words left your mouth as you grinned at her, spinning around in your wedding dress as you stood in front of the big wooden doors that separated you from your fiancé. She laughed and squeezed you, telling you she would see you soon. Her and the rest of the bridesmaids took off down the aisle. As you were standing there you caught a small glimpse of Jake standing there in his dress whites.

The bridal procession soon started to play as you looked over at your dad, putting your arm through his. “Don’t let me fall, please.” You teased, laughing through the tears as you started to make your way down the aisle. The church was absolutely glowing under the love that you and Jake had for each other; it was almost a tangible feeling. The blonde aviator had never been happier; his bright smile lighting up every single room every time he saw you. You had never felt so loved; especially now as you looked at your soon to be groom and saw the tears pouring down his cheeks. “You look so gorgeous.” You could see him repeatedly mouthing the words to you, a small blush creeping up on your lips as you wiped your tears and were handed off to him.

Marrying Jake Seresin felt like it was an absolute dream come true. You were standing in a beautiful church surrounded by all your friends and family and you felt like the luckiest woman alive. You were holding eyes with Jake as the minister talked, a warm smile on his lips as he looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the universe. His fingers were lazily drawing hearts on your palms as the two of you waited for him to say the next magical words. “Mr Seresin, you may now kiss your bride.” There was whooping from Jake’s fellow aviators as he pulled you in, his lips pressing to yours in a kiss that felt different than any you had ever shared before. It was passionate. It was full of love. It was the first kiss of the rest of your lives.

That day was by far the happiest day of your life. The love that the two of you shared poured out of the church in the form of a warmness no one had ever experienced before. It was intoxicating. It was surreal and fairytale like, but it was real. It was your actual reality. You had met someone who acted like you hung the moon. And to Jake Seresin, that is exactly what you did. You made him the happiest man alive and that church became a sacred place for the two of you. It was the place where you shared the happiest moments of your life. It was the place where the two of you became one.

The atmosphere shifted in your memory, the wooden chapel doors now seeming like they weighed 1000 pounds. It was a stark contrast to the last day you were here over a year ago; now everything dim and gloomy. Sniffles and crying could be heard and soft whispers of “I’m sorry for your loss.” kept being repeated to you. The words felt as hollow as your chest felt; your heart now missing. You hadn’t felt whole in days. In fact, you felt like you would never feel whole again. Last time you were here, you were wearing a beautiful wedding gown. Now, you were clad in a basic black dress that felt completely wrong.

You felt like you were suffocating, your hands shaking as you stood there. This couldn’t be real. Tears started to streak your vision as you sat down against the wall, your knees pulling to your chest. You didn’t look lady-like, but you didn’t even care anymore. “(Y/N)...” You heard Rooster and Phoenix come walking up to you, but they sounded a million miles away as you recalled the last time you saw them.

You had been standing in your kitchen making dinner as the news played on the tv in the living room. Jake was currently gone on a mission at an undisclosed location and he had been for a couple of weeks now. It was hard to be without him, but you knew he would be home soon. That was what got you through every single day. You finished cooking and walked into the living room with your food just as a breaking news update popped up on the TV; showing a wrecked naval plane in the ocean.

“Reports are coming out of the pentagon tonight that an American Naval plane was shot out of the sky while on a mission two days ago. One pilot has been confirmed as deceased, but the Navy is withholding the name of the pilot until they have been able to inform the family.” The anchor spoke in a sympathetic voice, a frown on her lips before they transitioned onto the next segment. “That poor family…” You shook your head and sat down with your food, scrolling through your phone as it started to blow up.

You were in a group chat with all the wives of the dagger squad; especially since they had been called together again for this latest secret mission. Everyone was checking in, saying their husbands had all sent them emails saying they were okay. You pulled up your email, letting it reload. There was nothing from Jake. “Maybe he’s just been busy. I’m sure it’s nothing. Your daddy is okay. We don’t need to worry.” You murmured the words to yourself and to the barely showing bump that was forming where your and Jake’s first-born child was growing. “He’s okay.” You tried to reassure yourself, telling the girls that Jake hadn’t been in touch yet, but you were sure he would be soon.

You sat with bated breath as you kept refreshing your email; hoping and praying something would come through. “Come on, Jake. Come on..” The words died on your lips as there was a knock at the door that seemed to echo throughout the entire empty house. You stood up from the chair you were in, your legs shaky as you made your way over.

From the window you could see Rooster and Phoenix standing there; both of them clad in their dress whites. No, this couldn’t be happening. No, no. No! Maybe this was a joke; a really fucking cruel one, but maybe one, nonetheless. The anxiety started to rise in your chest as you numbly walked towards the door and opened it, solemn looks on their faces as they both started to give you the speech the navy had prepared them for. You couldn’t hear a single word of it, your heart beating in your ears as your blood rushed through your head. “And the navy is so sorry for your loss.” Bradley struggled to get that last line out, his poker face starting to crack as his voice wavered. There was no way this was happening. Jake was a damn good pilot. Hell, he was the best! He always made sure that you knew that every time he went up into the air. “I’ll always come home to you, baby. I’m the best damn pilot in the whole navy.”You believed him every single time. Him saying that was always a comfort to you.

Not this time. He wouldn’t be coming home now. You let out a strangled sob as your knees gave out, hitting the carpet under you. Bradley and Phoenix moved to make sure you were okay, both of them taking turns giving you hugs and support as you sobbed and screamed. You were angry. You were frustrated. You were now alone. Jake was gone and he wasn’t ever coming back. As you were crying, you felt a deep despair overcome you. “H-he didn’t know..” You couldn’t even finish the words as you put your hand over your bump; Phoenix having already known you were pregnant. She shook her head at you, putting her hand over yours. “You can kill me later, but before we all took off that day, I told him.” Her voice was soft as she locked eyes with you, your best friend knowing what you needed in that moment. “He knew, (Y/N) and he was ecstatic.” The words caused the tears to flow down your cheeks harder, the sobs raking your body.

It was Bradley’s turn to try and comfort you now, his big arms pulling you into his lap as he held you. “He sacrificed himself.” The words barely left the man’s mouth as his tears ran down his cheeks and onto your shoulder; streaking their way down. “I was caught in a dog-fight and I was about to go down. I had no flares left. He went up after me, disobeying direct orders. He saved me but an enemy plane came out of nowhere and got to him before he could dodge the hit.” Your stomach sank at the words as you laid your head against rooster’s shoulder, letting the sorrow overtake your body. “He also made us all promise to take care of you if anything happened. So, you better believe that baby is going to have so much support, and you as well.” He pulled something out of his coat pocket and handed it to you, your name scribbled down in your husband’s handwriting. “You have got to promise to wait and read this after the funeral. That’s how he wanted it.”

You felt so numb that entire day, barely moving from one spot on the floor as Natasha and Bradley both vowed to stay with you until the funeral, both of them crashing with you so they could keep an eye on you. The days ticked by slowly as you tried to do anything to feel closer to jake. You looked at all your old pictures and videos. You listened to some of the voicemails he left you. You even read his old letters that he wrote you when the two of you started dating. You were struggling with the grief; even with the support.

Sure, the resources the navy supplied you with were helpful, but they didn’t help the pain. They didn’t help the longing for Jake to hold you again. They didn’t help the longing to hear his awful singing come pouring out of the shower in the morning. They also sure as hell didn’t help the hole in your heart.

The days passed slowly, each one more excruciating then the next as the day of the funeral arrived. Luckily for you, Phoenix and Rooster and the rest of the team had taken to planning the funeral according to what Jake had wanted. The meticulous planner he was, he had the whole thing down to a T. The service was beautiful as it came and went, a flurry of tears and words of comfort exchanged as your husband’s life and sacrifice was honored. It was a beautiful military wedding and at the end of it you stayed sitting beside his casket, the folded-up flag sitting in your lap as you tried to will yourself out of your chair. It proved futile as you pulled your purse into your lap, the letter from him poking out. You took a shaky breath in and slowly opened the envelope, tears instantly pouring as you saw Jake’s handwriting.

Darling,

If you’re reading this, then it means you already know that I broke my promise to you. I am so sorry about that. I don’t know what the circumstances were, but I am so damn sorry I am not there with you. I want you to know some things, and some of them maybe I haven’t even told you. But, they told us this is our last chance to get our affairs in order, so here we go. The day I met you, I swear the world stopped spinning. You came into my life and completely shook up everything I thought I knew about myself. I fell in love with you at first sight. God, I’ve been spending too much time with Rooster, that sappy bastard. But, you are the most perfect girl I have ever met. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that more when I was around. I should have told you it every single second I saw you because I’m sitting here regretting it. I also should have told you how much I loved you every single second of every single day. You are the single most important thing to me and I am so lucky to call you my wife. Please, do not spend forever morning me if you have to read this. I need you to be happy for me, babe. I know it’s going to be hard, but you’re my strong girl and I know you can do it. I’ll be watching you and cheering you on every single day, baby girl. You’ll know I’m there, I’ll make sure of it.

Now, hopefully you never have to actually read this letter. I’m hoping that I come home and I can read you this as we burn it in the fireplace. I’m hoping that I manage to pull off this op because I cannot wait to see you when I get home. I love you so so so much.

Stay Beautiful, sweets.

Your Jake <3

You held the letter out as your tears started to pour down; trying not to ruin the pen Jake had written with. He was gone and it wasn’t a dream, this was your new unfortunate reality. Your husband was gone and you were going to be raising a baby that would never know his father outside of stories. This wasn’t how your forever was supposed to go.

#Jake seresin x y/n #Jake seresin x you #Jake seresin x reader #Jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin fanfic #Jake seresin imagines #Jake hangman seresin imagines #too gun maverick x you #top gun maverick imagines #Jake seresin fanfiction #Jake seresin angst #jake seresin one shot #hangman imagines

[philliam-writes]

on that tree i'll carve our names (01)

pairing: Ominis Gaunt x fem! Hufflepuff Reader; Sebastian Sallow x Male MC

Synopsis: You have never believed or trusted in Prophecy, not with the way you were brought up. Paying attention to Prophecy is like tossing real diamonds in the air mixed with shards of broken glass. The grab is rarely worth the injury. But when the new fifth year arrives, so do trouble and mischief, and you're inadvertently thrust into adventures and secrets too grand to deal with by yourself. Yet with hardships come friendships, and while you learn to trust the new student with your life, you're less keen on trusting the cunning Sallow boy or the quiet Gaunt heir. Still waters run deep, as they say, and you can't shake off the feeling something dark hides at the bottom of those white-veiled unseeing eyes.

content: canon divergence, fighting prophecy, enemies to friends, reluctant soulmates, platonic soulmates, slow burn, basically HL but Reader isn't MC, angst, hurt and comfort, Sebastian and Reader can't stand each other (until much later), they're all mean, because they're starving for love, will love and kill for each other, dark(ish) ominis, satisfying female rage, also Quidditch because screw Black

notes: [02]

words: 5.9k

a/n: this is so self-indulgent, i don't even know if i'll keep this up. but right now i need to get this out of my system, so here is tragic platonic soulmates with delicious slow burn for borth of them and my favourite slytherin boys. hope you enjoy!

01: hawthorn makes the heart burn

The new student has been at Hogwarts for only a week, and already you cannot stand him.

It’s got nothing to do with the fact that he is a Slytherin. You have never been a fan of the sorting system, because even if it is partly at fault for sticking kids into boxes and teaching them to think in categories, the students surely don’t make it better living by these stereotypes. Not all Slytherins are bad people, just like not all Gryffindors are brave; not every Ravenclaw is a genius, and not every Hufflepuff is a saint, e.g.: You.

“You’re joking! Three Sickles and fifteen Knuts for a Pocket Sneakscope? That’s way too expensive!”

Lifting your eyes from the list of gadgets you need to buy on your next trip to Hogsmeade, you raise an eyebrow at the second-year Ravenclaw boy. He’s taller than most of his fellow housemates, shows signs of a long, hawkish nose and has pimples scattered on his cheeks like a Leaping Toadstool Cap. You can’t really remember his name. Freddy or Fred or August, maybe.

This early in the morning before classes start, the air is especially thick with the smell of late-summer: sweet buddleia in full bloom, the rich green leaves of trees as they sway gently in the wind. Mist hangs low in the valley and over the Great Lake, a milky curtain hiding its resident gently poking long tentacles into the warm sun. The castle is only slowly waking up after a short night—the last grace of long summer days approaching their end as October draws closer.

A beautiful landscape you can hardly enjoy with the second-year’s whiny voice buzzing around your head like an annoying mosquito.

“Look, you wanted a Pocket Sneakscope, I got it for you,” you say and unhitch yourself from the cool stone pillar, one of many holding up the roof of the Viaduct Courtyard’s passageway. “It’s not my fault the underground path is infested with spiders.”

Damned Weasley could have warned you though. You have been using the secret passage under the humpbacked, one-eyed witch leading to the cellar of Honeydukes since your second year when you spied Garreth Weasley sneak through it, and since then you both agreed on staying out of each other’s way as long as nobody rats out the secret passageway to the faculty. He gets to obtain whatever he needs for his weird concoctions, and you get to continue your little business of providing first and second years whatever they want from Hogsmeade since they can’t go themselves yet—all for a certain price. It makes trips to Hogsmeade easier when you can’t use your broom, though the occasional acid spit launched your way is less favourable than the breathtaking view of Hogwarts towering majestically as the sun sets, throwing the whole castle in stark, black contrast against the warm, orange sky.

“Unless you want someone else to get you stuff from Hogsmeade,” you continue with a shrug. “Good luck finding them though.” You move to put the Sneakscope back into your pocket, barely managing to keep on a neutral expression when Freddy or Fred or August, maybe, gasps as though you have reached into the Ravenclaw’s house point hourglass, grabbed a handful sapphires and chucked them at the Headmaster.

“It’s just—it’s just a whole Sickle more than I can spend this month!” he protests, but judging by the quiver of his voice he’ll eat out of your hand in no time.

You give your brightest smile. “Not my problem.”

The Ravenclaw-boy fumes, but when you hold out your hand, he slaps the coins into your open palm, his pale face blotched red with fury.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” You hand over his Pocket Sneakscope and watch him stamp off towards the double doors leading inside the entrance hall. He stops with a small, pale hand on the bronze doorknob, turns around as by his touch alone the doors squeal open with the magic that recognises students entering. “You are the worst Hufflepuff at this school!” he shouts and quickly dashes inside.

You don’t know why he felt the need to point it out. It’s not as though people don’t know who you are: the Hufflepuff who burnt down the left greenhouse in her second year when trying Incendio after agreeing to a bet; the Hufflepuff who broke a Ravenclaw’s nose because said Ravenclaw accused her of cheating in Defence Against the Dark Arts; the Hufflepuff who smoked Silverweed in a corner under the Great Staircase in her third year to see if it would yield any relaxing effects; the Hufflepuff who actually cheated on her very first exam in History of Magic—all in all the Hufflepuff who really should have been sorted into Slytherin on her first day, according to everybody else. Except the Slytherins have no love left for you because you wear yellow.

It is a wonder you have not been expelled yet, surely to do with the fact that despite it all, one student outshines your delinquent record. Your grades are passable, neither at the very top nor bottom, though you do have a knack for quickly learning spells and charms. What keeps you in somewhat good grace is being the Beater for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team—and what a Beater you are: ruthless and quick with strong arms. Maybe not as fast as Slytherin’s Captain on a broom, but you feel comfortable enough up in the air. All your problems seem so much smaller when you soar through the sky. Speaking of Quidditch, a Gryffindor second-year asked you to get a fake Snitch to practice for the team’s try-outs. Hopefully the Spintwitches Sporting Needs opens within in the next week; you’re in need of a new broomstick servicing kit, preferably before practice starts.

You move towards the Great Hall before they clear out breakfast. You did ask Javi to save up some Pumpkin Pastries for you, but he’s been in a foul mood since yesterday because Peeves destroyed a bust in the Astronomy Tower and he had to take the brunt of it. But while you’re crossing the courtyard, you notice a shadow standing under a wide archway, tall and sinewy, though body shapes are usually hard to guess under the loose, floaty school robes. Yet you know that despite looking lanky, this boy is nimble and quick, and his presence is utterly unappreciated—that is how the circle closes; the reason why you can’t stand him.

Even from this distance, you can make out Callum St. Jude’s pale grey eyes—they stand stark against his unruly map of ink-black hair. Paired with skin pale as moonlight, he looks like one of Hogwarts’s residual ghosts.

You feel your face turn into a scowl. It seems that no matter where you are these days, he is lurking nearby. At first you thought he was spying on you to check out the competition for tonight’s Crossing Wands duel. It is the finale after all. But when you had confronted him about it, catching him on his way down to the Slytherin dungeons in the Grand Staircase after your shared Charms class, he had considered you with a blank expression. “Who are you?” he’d asked, looking down at you from a few steps above.

Behind him, trailing him like a shadow since day one, Sebastian Sallow had sniggered. “Seems like you already have admirers,” he’d said with his insufferable haughty voice. “Though that Hufflepuff is more trouble than she’s worth.”

You were about to show him trouble, face hot with shame, when Javi hauled you up, hands under your armpits, and carried you away as if you were a sack of potatoes. “You can’t get detention now, it’s still the first week,” Javi had said mildly.

At least it would have been worth it. It would have been so satisfying to blast that cocky grin off Sallow’s face, to silence St. Jude’s little mocking huff. You firmly believe St. Jude is suffering from the worst ailment to date: Main Character Syndrome.

The symptoms have been evident since his first day: joining Hogwarts as a fifth-year, arriving late to the Sorting Ceremony due to a dragon attack, besting Sallow on his first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson (though you can hardly criticise him knocking Sallow down a peg) and mastering every new spell and charm as though it is as easy as breathing. Just last week, he fought off a grown troll and defended Hogsmeade, and now the whole school doesn’t shut up about it.

It is with eager anticipation that you await tonight’s Crossed Wands’s finale. Your fingers practically itch to draw your wand and Flipendo him just to juggle him around a little and wipe that blank expression off his face. He is beautiful, you hate to admit, feeling a sour taste in the back of your throat, but he’s using that face in all the wrong ways. He has the sort of face they’d probably frame in a museum, the kind that’s unbelievably pretty, but unattainable.

“Preying upon second years this early?” St. Jude tuts. “It seems there really is no rest for the wicked.”

“Looks as though I am already punished for it,” you grumble. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have to deal with you.”

St. Jude cocks his head to the side, looking thoughtful. “Interesting way to talk to someone you fancy.”

“I do not,” you press out between gritted teeth, shouldering past him as he steps into the entrance hall first, “fancy you.” You hope the Thunderbrew potion will be the first you’ll learn in Potions class. Watching St. Jude getting struck by lightning would lighten your mood considerably.

“For someone who pretends not to be interested in me,” he continues, ignoring you, “I see you around an awful lot.”

You consider tripping him as you two ascend the stairs. “Yes, that seems to be the very problem.”

“Won’t make me take it easy on you tonight though.” Since he is nowhere near a gentleman, he doesn’t hold the door open for you and it almost slams in your face. “I always duel to win.”

“I hope you don’t mind spending the next couple of days in the hospital wing.” You bump into his shoulder, hard, when you finally enter the Great Hall and immediately aim for the Hufflepuff table to the far right of the hall without another glance at him.

The hall is buzzing with students, the air filled with the tasty smell of crispy bacon, grilled leak, slightly burnt toast with melting butter on top. It isn’t as crowded as at lunch or dinner time—most students tend to skip breakfast to either sleep in after a long study night or use the hour before classes to finish assignments and homework.

The ceiling shows a clear blue sky with thin clouds drifting past lazily. You slide in the free seat next to your fellow Beater near the front of the table. Javier García is shoving scrambled eggs into his mouth, his bright brown eyes fixed on the Daily Prophet. In your first year, you didn’t pay much attention to him. If you look up Hufflepuff Student in any dictionary, it will show Javi’s face—a hard-working, loyal individual that always reminds you of a golden retriever until he steps on the field and turns into a pit bull from a fighting ring. Every summer he returns to his muggle family where he helps tending to the crops and fields, evident in his arms the size of tree trunks used to heavy lifting. Perfect for hitting Bludgers at opponents and slamming them off their brooms.

You pour yourself coffee and begin spooning slabs of apple-cinnamon-oatmeal into a bowl.

“Ranrok’s Loyalists have put up more camps around the Hogwarts highlands,” Javi says, mouth half-full. “It looks like they’re moving closer towards Hogwarts.”

“Why would they come to Hogwarts? There’s nothing here.”

“The castle has tons of secrets still uncovered. Why wouldn’t they try and get inside?”

“As if they’d manage to get through the defences. Hogwarts is impenetrable.” You take a long sip from your cup, hoping the caffeine kicks in fast. “No one’s going to get inside. Forget about the goblins. Did you see the Quidditch board? Our first game this season is against Gryffindor.”

Javi groans. “I hate their Seeker. Too small to hit with a Bludger, too quick to slam off the broom. We might as well throw in the towel.”

“Don’t let Captain hear that or she’ll turn you into a fox and wear you as a collar.” The Hufflepuff’s Quidditch Captain, Mary J. Lockwood, is sweet in pretty much every aspect except when it comes to Quidditch, and she never hesitates making you take the brunt of it. You’ve stopped counting how often she’d condemned you to run laps around the field as punishment for talking back or disrupting practice.

You finish breakfast and quickly drop by the common room to get your parchments and books for Divination class, hoping it will let time pass quickly until evening. But while staring for roughly an hour into the lazily swirling fog inside a crystal ball without an answer to how this year’s Quidditch season will end, time seemed to move slower than a snail. After dozing off twice and woken up by Adeleide Oakes’s pointy elbow to your ribs before Professor Onai could notice, the class finally ends.

Next up is Herbology and after that you’ve got two free periods until lunch and then end the day with double Potions. It’s a slow day for a Wednesday, and you can’t wait until practice starts in October to give you some change from sitting for hours in the library and going through dusty old tomes or watch the first and second-years getting roped up into playing Gobstones in the common room by the older students, filling it with the putrid smell of its foul liquid. You just enjoy being outdoors more. Which is why Herbology is somewhat fun, even if you and Javi prefer to pass time by betting on who can stick their finger closest to a Chinese Chomping Cabbage, earning a scornful side glance from Leander Prewett.

You promised Samantha Dale and Nellie Oggspire to work on the assigned group project for the essay on Ghouls for DADA during your free period, but when you’re about to set out to the Great Hall to grab a few snacks before going through the list of books you’ll need from the library, Professor Garlick appears before you suddenly as though sprouting from the ground like a flower.

“Oh, delightful, my dear, there you are!” she beams. Small brown parcels flutter around her head like butterflies. “Here is the delivery for Mr. Ollivander, if you’d be so kind and bring them to him now.”

Just in case, you look behind you. Nobody there on the stairs leading up to the central hall. Even Javi has made himself scarce already. She really is talking to you.

“Why me, Professor?” Someone must have hit you with Obliviate. You can’t remember having agreed to any favour for her.

“Oh? Frederick Gustave told me you would offer! Quite an attentive, nice boy! He will grow into a splendid Ravenclaw student one day!” Frederick Gustave? In Ravenclaw? You don’t know anyone called Frederick or Gustave or—the thought strikes you like lightning. Freddy, Fred or August. “All you need to do is bring these little parcels to Mr. Ollivander in Hogsmeade. These are magically nourished woods he has requested, and I am quite eager to see the results for myself.”

With a flick of her wand the parcels change course and begin to circle around your head before you can even begin to explain that this is a huge misunderstanding. She pats your cheek affectionately and twirls around, descending the stairs back to her flowery domain.

Javi is waiting for you at the top of the stairs, ignoring your scowl as he whistles the tune of The School of Jolly Dogs. His face lights up. “Since you’re heading to Hogsmeade, can you bring me some white Chocolate Frogs? Mine hopped out of the window last night because Arty forgot to close it.”

You answer with a rude hand gesture and stomp out of the hall, heading for where you keep your brooms stashed in the Hufflepuff locker room.

~ ⋆｡°✩ ~

The flight to Hogsmeade takes longer than usual. Every time you move too fast, the parcels begin to cry and whine like little abandoned ducklings until they catch up to you. Other than that, it is a beautiful morning as the sun keeps dipping in and out between wispy smears of clouds on the wide blue canvas. The tiny, homey town is alive with witches and wizards scurrying around to get their errands done. The novelty and excitement from visiting Hogsmeade in your third-year has worn off after two years, but it’s still a nice change from the dark school corridors and unending spiralling stair cases.

You leave your broom leaning next to the entrance of Mr. Ollivander’s shop. This shouldn’t take more than five minutes, darting in and out; you’re pretty sure you’ll be quicker than a Niffler digging through a pile of Galleons.

The door swings open easily. It has been five years since you last set foot into the small, cramped shop, yet nothing has changed and suddenly you feel as though you’re eleven again, entering for the first time. It smells of polished wood and something burnt underneath like a misplaced Incendio. Nearly every wall is stacked high with countless wands up to the ceiling, waiting to choose their witch or wizard. Back then you felt very small as a first year, anxious and excited to finally attend Hogwarts and get your own wand—the very first object that truly belonged to you and was not one of your older sisters’ hand-me-downs.

From the back of the shop you hear heavy knocks and a shrill screeching sound that makes you want to put your hands to your ears. Just like five years ago, you reach for the bronze bell on the counter but before your fingers can touch it, it lifts on its own and jingles beautifully. The knocking immediately stops, followed by a last dull clatter and then Mr. Ollivander emerges from the back room, dusting himself off.

He looks at you over the rim of his golden glasses, and a small smile spreads on his face as recognition dawns. The wide counter flap squeaks open when he swishes his wand to step through.

“Ah, the Hawthorn girl,” he says in greeting, quickly closing the space between you and taking your hands in his; you feel every wrinkle against your palm, every patch of rough skin from decades of work as he squeezes your hands. “I have hoped that I would see you soon.”

The question mark must be evident on your face, for Mr. Ollivander explains, “I remember every student and wand I paired, and you my dear, I remember the day five years ago when you came to my shop and your wand found you. Spiral, twelve inches, and a phoenix feather core. Unyielding. But what makes your wand so special is the wood it is made of. Hawthorn makes such a strange, contradictory wand, as full of paradoxes as the tree that gave it birth, whose leaves and blossoms heal, and yet whose cut branches smell of death.” He chuckles to himself, blinking as if lost in a memory; not noticing how tense you are and the way your uneasy smile curls downward. As though you could forget what the hawthorn means. But instead of allowing your mother’s voice inside your head and poisoning your heart, you square your shoulders and pull your hands away from Mr. Ollivander’s grasp.

“Delivery from Professor Garlick,” you say with a faux cheery voice. It seems only then does Mr. Ollivander notice the parcels still fluttering around your head.

“Ah, yes, yes! Allow me.” He points his wand at the parcels, then to his back room and they float through the shop in rank and file, all in proper order. “And here of course, the payment.” Mr. Ollivander hurries behind the counter, and produces a heavy pouch that he hands over to you. It jangles handsomely when you take it from him.

“Well then, I wish you a nice da—”

“Tell me, dear, have you met him?”

Feet already pointed towards the entrance, you turn your body halfway back. “Met who, sir?”

Mr. Ollivander looks up from the account books he’s been writing in. Something glints in his eyes, but maybe it’s just the reflection on his glasses. “Why, the Blackthorn boy of course.”

You rack your brain for anyone you know who’s called Blackthorn but come up empty. “I’m afraid I have not made any acquaintance like that, sir.”

The wandmaker’s eyes are calm, a sparkling blue of sunlight lancing off a stream. “I see,” he says. “Well, my part of this was fulfilled when I matched your wants with you. Everything else is up to you.” He gives you a little secret smile, then goes back to his ledger, the conversation clearly over even though you have dozens of questions swirling in your head.

Back out on Lower High Street, you have been released of the fluttering parcels and instead Mr. Ollivander’s words torment your mind. You can feel a memory hiding behind a thick fog, blurry and barely visible but its presence heavy and lurking like a ghost.

Wasn’t there something he had told you five years ago? When he had presented your wand to you, still resting in its narrow satin casket. You were too excited to pay him any mind—it had sounded too much like one of your mother’s stories; like an augury or worse even, a prophecy—when he had told you about a cursed kingdom, two brothers, and a hawthorn and blackthorn tree. Why listen to old fairy tales when the real adventure—Hogwarts—was waiting for you?

Besides, if by ‘Blackthorn boy’ he meant someone with a blackthorn wand, finding that person would be nearly impossible. And why would you look for him in the first place? Superstitions and divinations have no place in your life. Not after how it had dictated your childhood with a cold iron fist.

The trip back to Hogwarts is significantly faster without having to look after enchanted parcels behaving like newborn Fwoopers. With what happened at Mr. Ollivander’s, you completely forgot to drop by Honeydukes for Javi, which makes him look like a kicked puppy for the rest of the day.

You manage to start your essay for the group project, although you don’t get nowhere near where you wanted to be before the match. Lunch is a blur of tasty shepherd’s pie and grilled mushroom skewers with a small handful of students passing where you sit to wish you good luck, pattung your shoulder hard enough you almost choke on your pumpkin juice. Others send you little notes with crude drawings showing St. Jude zapping you with a spell and losing tonight’s duel. The messages are charmed to head dive into your cup and plate, splattering mashed potatoes on your uniform.

Adeleide plucks a nervously flapping piece of paper out of your meal and unfolds it. “At least they’re creative,” she notices mildly.

You throw a wary glance at the note. “That doesn’t even look like me.”

“I don’t know.” Javi slurps loudly from his cup. “They got your scowl right.”

Double Potions after lunch flies by for a change. Your Wiggenweld Potion tends to be a tad bluer than Professor Sharp’s apple green concoction bubbling at the front table for reference, but you have a hard time focusing when your mind is already occupied with how tonight’s duel might go.

You have a handful favourite spells that you’ve practised long enough they come as easy to you as breathing. But from what you have seen during the last Crossed Wands duels where St. Jude has participated, he seems to have a natural gift for duelling. You’ve heard he competed alongside Sallow in his first duel, but every after he’s been on his own and you’ve seen the battered and bruised leftover competitors limping out of the Clock Tower. You don’t plan to follow in their footsteps.

When evening falls on the castle and the long, narrow corridors awake with dim candlelight, you follow the throng of hooded students hurrying towards the Clock Tower after dinner. The excitement ripples through the lines of people like a physical force, alive and rearing when the first students file into the Clock Tower and find a seat close to the walls and away from accidental stray spells.

You spot Lucan Brattleby surrounded by a handful Hufflepuff and Slytherin students. Javi is among them, and when you draw closer you notice the ledger in Lucan’s hand and the Sickles being passed between him and Javi.

Javi startles when you step next to him like a Mooncalf facing an oncoming card. “Hiya,” he says in the very familiar voice that sounds a lot like him hoping you won’t be mad.

You raise an eyebrow. “Placing bets?” Your eyes linger on the page as you scan the names on the chart on your side. Only a few names—Leander, who’s been especially snappy since he lost against St. Jude in the semifinals, a handful other Gryffindors, one or two Ravenclaws and the rest are students from your house. On St. Jude’s column, Lucan has started to write the names as tiny as possible to fit them all on the page. Javi’s is amongst them. He ducks away from your scrutinising gaze. “He slew a fully-grown troll last week!” he pleads his case. So much for the infamous Hufflepuff loyalty. “I’ll invite you to Honyedukes after and pay whatever you want from the win.”

“Whatever.” You turn away to get ready, walking into a hard, solid body.

Callum St. Jude steadies you before you can stumble. “Easy there.” His smile slices white. “Am I already sweeping you off your feet? We haven’t even started yet.”

You shrug his hand off your arm. “The only sweeping happening today is when I wipe the floor with you, St. Jude.”

He hums thoughtfully. “We’ll see.”

You stare daggers at his back as he retreats to his side of the hall, welcomed by other Slytherin students who pat his back and ruffle his unruly jet-black hair as though he is the fifth year’s Champion already. He doesn’t linger around them for too long, and instead retreats to a far corner where Sallow is already waiting for him. What an annoying duo.

Tugging your black robe off, you begin to stretch your limbs. For today’s occasions you’ve chosen to wear a simple shirt with ribbon uniform tucked into your plaid trousers. More mobility, less fabric flapping around. A tie or a blazer would allow too much surface for a nasty Accio. From the last duels you’ve watched, you know St. Jude is as sharp as a whip, and he uses everything in his so far meagre arsenal of spells to win.

You’ll need to keep all your wits about you. If he, and the majority assembled under the giant swinging pendulum today, underestimate you, it will be your pleasure to remind them what vicious creatures badgers are. And that they devour snakes.

When you turn, St. Jude is already standing ready, his wand raised. He’s shrugged out of his robes as well and pulled off his tie, following your example. Gone is the hint of the cocky smile he always wears, so infuriating and inviting to punch. Now he is serious, his face an impassive mask that betrays nothing but you have seen it change within a heartbeat before knocking an opponent out with a savage blast of his wand. Like a snake, waiting and watching, until it strikes viciously and sinks its venomous fangs into your skin.

“Attention!” Lucan Brattleby hops in the centre, his arms raised. “Wizards and witches! Welcome to the fifth year’s Crossed Wands Championship Round!” He lets the audience get the whistling and bellowing out of their system before he introduces both parties. “Competitors, let’s get started!”

He quickly dashes out of the way—rightly so, for St. Jude’s opening move is always a lightning-quick Levioso, just like Professor Hecat taught him. You dodge the spell and hear it disperse against the wall behind you, feeling the sparks nip your skin.

“Accio!” You whip your wand towards you, only able to catch St. Jude by the cuff of his white sleeve as he evades with a side-step. But it’s enough to unbalance him as his arm is pulled in your direction and he retaliates by using the moment to blast a few Basic Casts your way which you block by well-timed Protegos.

The crowd’s cheers disappears into background noise as you and St. Jude continue your tense dance of attack and parry; a step forward, another step back, his Incendio is answered by your Glacius; since he prefers fire you do him the pleasure of casting Confringo which forces him to dive to the side. Your spell blasts the wooden weapon rack behind him into splinters and pieces, showering the Slytherins sitting beside it with glowing embers.

“Come on, new guy, give her a proper Slytherin treatment!” one of them yells. St. Jude doesn’t let himself get distracted, not even by the instructions of his fellow housemates or the quips from your side of the room. His eyes are pinning you like a butterfly on a corkboard, following your every step. They are frighteningly bright, you have the feeling that no move will go past him.

From behind you, you pull a large crate from under the buttocks of two Gryffindors with Accio, ignoring their protests when in the last second you fling it bodily towards St. Jude with Depulso. You’ve been working on the right timing for this for a long time—people usually don’t expect to be thrown at with things instead of spells. It hurls through the hall, and to your utter astonishment St. Jude blocks it in the last second with a flying object of his own—a practice dummy.

But where was the spell? You didn’t see him cast one when he hurled that dummy through the air.

At your puzzled expression, St. Jude grins at you, his smile so sudden and jarring as a thunderclap. You narrow your eyes. There’s something growing in the pit of your stomach, rearing its ugly head and snapping sharp, volatile teeth. Basic Casts don’t feel enough, and every vicious Diffindo St. Jude parries or dodges in the last moment. His retaliation is a fiery Incendio after Incendio—you’d think after this time one of you would grow weaker, lose focus, but the heat flaring your way and the flames licking up your uniform feel anything but harmless or tame.

Sweat runs down your temples, along your cheeks, down your neck. Your wand feels hot in your hand, but you grip it tighter, knuckles white. Your lungs feel tight in your chest, but you breathe in stronger, eyes wide. That rage that always lives inside you rears. It is an almost physical pain, like nails against flesh; like teeth against bars. That unwanted animal is starving, it wants nothing more than to get out and you’re surprised nobody else can hear it howling.

“Not as quick or cunning as that Sallow boy, but her spells pack a mean punch,” they say about you. You couldn’t best Sallow, and now there is this new contender and you refuse, refuse to slide down to number three; always coming in last, always pushed aside. You snarl at St. Jude as though trying to wrap your teeth around the world.

The air crackles with magic. Faintly, you hear an echo of a familiar voice. “Do not be surprised at your wand’s ability to perceive your intentions—particularly in a moment of need.”

It seems your wand shares your taste for violence—you can feel that this is the best Expulso you have executed since you taught yourself the spell in year four. You swing your arm, wand scorching hot in your hand—vibrating even—and hurl the Blasting Spell at St. Jude.

You can see his mouth move as he speaks a spell, blue sparks fly from the tip of his wand and then crackling lightning intercepts your attack. Through the sparks and bolts you see St. Jude’s puzzled expression—now is the chance to strike. A surprised opponent is a weak opponent; you swing your arm back—your arm is stuck.

From the tip of your wand a wiry crimson light crackles across the room, connected to St. Jude’s wand. When you try pulling back again, an invisible force lurches you forward, forcing your arm up until the thin light grows stronger, redder like spilt blood. Your arm shakes with the feeling of wrongness crawling up your arm, a kernel of god-awful flavour that has you biting your bottom lip. You feel an awareness. No. More than awareness, more sentient than that. It is recognition.

The point of your wand, shining a blazing white, shakes with the effort of you trying to pull back; shakes from whatever magic is transpiring between you two. On the other side, St. Jude has his free hand around his other wrist, trying to lower his wand, his face as white as a wall. To no avail.

The magic spreading from your wand through your body is like curious, warm fingers touching up along your arm, curling around your shoulder, settling against your cheek. They wander lower and splay across your chest, then sink through your ribs. Close around your heart. Squeeze.

The world explodes.

The magical blast sends you flying. Your teeth clang together as you slam on your back. Pain radiates through your body. Black dots dance before your eyes and blur your vision as you’re struggling for air.

A hushed silence has settled inside the Clock Tower. You shake your head, your free hand rising to your chest where you still feel a sharp twinge. Gingerly, you pick yourself up, carefully feeling for injuries. The whole room is a mess as though a wild Graphorn has ravaged inside and destroyed most of the furnishings. When your eyes lock with St. Jude’s across the room, your heart beats in your throat, making it hard to breathe.

Mirroring you, one hand is pressed against his chest, the other holds his wand in a vice-grip as though his life depends on it. You see him shudder helplessly, as if it were winter and he has gone outside without gloves and caught a terrible chill. His eyes meet yours, then drop to your wand. His lips mouth a single word, and you stare at him, throat tight, the cold sweat sensation of dread spreading slowly through your limbs.

And all of a sudden, you remember very clearly one thing Mr. Ollivander had told you all those years ago.

Once your paths cross, your fates will be irrevocably connected, growing together like the roots of old trees. Your wands have come from the same seed. There is no doubt that you fill find him.

Your Blackthorn boy.

A/N: If anyone is interested in this story, I can make a taglist :) Would also appreciate any sort of feedback, or just hitting the little heart so show me you enjoyed it

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