#sometimes i think i've figured out how to color this show

[gummycube]

Issues

#the rocky horror picture show #rocky horror #brad majors #janet weiss #this is just supposed to b a quick thing that I drew digitally just to figure out #how I'd color them because I've only ever done pencil sketches of them before #so if it looks a little quick... it is... I didn't even wanna actually write lmao I used the text #function in firealpaca for once #I love how Janet's a little vain n stuff under the surface #but yea sometimes I think about how they were abt to get married with such #obvious relationship issues n it makes me kind of hm so here #my art

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 6.1k

Summary: What do you call a deaf pirate? Not 'Siren Food' apparently, which is really sort of hilarious when you've been kidnapped by a hungry Siren. Not for the Siren though—he's definitely not having a good time.

A/N: *rushes in at the 11th hour* Happy Mer-May!! I've been back and forth with clinical rotations and also working on some commission things and Leona's Part 4, but like, it's a fanfiction holiday. I couldn't miss out. And for one of my favorite tropes nonetheless. So here we are.

[PART 1] [PART 2]

There was a legend that floated throughout the Sage Island Seas of the Pirate With No Ears. Which was ridiculous—half because such a tall tale managing to survive so long and so wildly really showed just how pathetic the rest of the gossip around here was, and half because you still had ears. They just didn’t work very well was all.

Some said you’d been deafened by a prowling sea sorcerer who had tricked you into trading away your once keen sense for some mortal foible or other. Others whispered about how you’d been trapped in an ice cavern, surrounded by electric eels and sharks, and that the only way you’d been able to weasel your way out was by cutting off your own ears so that you’d have enough wiggle room to escape from your bindings. Which made absolutely zero sense at all.

In reality, all you’d done was stand far too close to a canon for far too long when you were far, far too little, and ever since all you could hear was the dull ringing of post-battle silence. Sometimes it was a bit sad. When the waves crashed against the shore, or when the gulls flew overhead—you were sure all those things sounded very lovely. You remembered music and laughter and sometimes they echoed in your head at a distance—a memory not quite forgotten but certainly fading at the edges. But other times, like now, where your fellow crewmates were bawling into their ales and wailing about lord knew what… well, it was always nice to find a silver lining in these sorts of things.

One of the tipsy lads tottering around the deck of The Rose Queen tripped and landed against the wood with something that looked like it’d be a very loud smack. Your brain helpfully filled the silence with some nonsense noises and park-play-style laughter instead. You watched Cater stumble by out of the corner of your eye. He patted your head and said something that twisted his mouth into a gaping ‘uuuuu-eeeee-oooo’ before he puttered away to leech off First Mate Clover instead. Ace threw a drunken arm around your shoulder and burbled something against your cheek that popped with the scent of stale booze, and you decided to pretend that you were as alone at sea as your muted senses would like to think.

The party raged on long into the evening and you stared down at the rabble contentedly from your perch in the crow’s nest. They were a good bunch—dullards though they may be. You’d heard (hardee har har) that they were planning to raid the Port o'Bliss, and something must have gone terribly right. You only really hung around to scrub barnacles off the paneling and keep an eye on the tides well enough that Deuce wouldn’t run the lot of you ashore, so you weren’t really sure how the whole ‘pirating’ business actually went about. But clearly they were doing a pretty good job of it.

You rested your chin on your crossed arms and sighed into the salty breeze. The night was warm and pleasant, and before you knew it, you were nodding off against the rough fabric of your sleeves. You weren’t quite sure how long you spent dozing there tangled in the ropes of mast, but it was long enough that by the time you snorted back awake the festive lights had dimmed to embers and most of the crew had sidled away below deck to either keep drinking themselves blind or collapse in a pool of their own colorful vomit.

There was a lone figure swerving towards the bow—precariously close to the railing for someone so clearly unsteady on their own legs, if you did say so yourself. You squinted suspiciously at his mused lavender hair, not entirely sure you recognized the head bobbing around below you. But perhaps The Rose Queen had picked up some fresh recruits at the Port, or maybe the crew had gotten a bit too booze happy with some dye. Purple Hair leaned up against the rails and tipped forward on his toes like he was thinking about diving in, or maybe barfing. Either or, you sighed and shimmied your way down to stop him from tumbling into a watery grave.

“Oi!” you called, the shout vibrating up and out of your throat, and the kid jumped half a foot in the air. “What do you think you’re doing? Get away from there. Riddle’ll have your head if we have to send out the rescue rafts this late at—”

The kid turned to face you with wide, wide, glowing eyes. Your own went round as dinner plates as you watched his too-dark pupils pulse like drumbeat. They were so bright, practically illuminating the whole of his delicate face, but there was no light to them. Matte and sleek like a shark’s eyes.

He shouted something at you so whip fast that you couldn’t even begin to make sense of, and then he was glancing nervously back and forth between the roiling waves at his back and the encroaching deckhand at his front—making all sorts of nonsense gestures that had you sighing behind gritted teeth.

“Look,” you said, interrupting whatever indiscernible gibberish he was spouting, “I don’t know who you think you are. But you’ve picked the wrong ship to try and—I don’t know—seize? Pirate? You can’t pirate a pirate ship! But either way, you—”

Then the kid opened his mouth like he was screaming, and you frowned again. There was strange prickle along your arms that had goosebumps crawling up your skin and the hair raising at the back of your neck, but you shook it off and moved forward with another weary sigh. You pulled a length of rope from the belt slung around your hips and held the limp bundle of salt-soaked mesh up like a threat.

“I will throw you overboard. And hogtie you first,” you promised cheerily. “So you actually sink.”

Purple Hair just looked like he was trying to scream louder, and you were sourly tempted to stick your fucking tongue out at him and make petulant ‘nyeh nyeh nice try’ noises at him, but then there was a heaviness behind you. A creak in the wood that you could feel if not hear. You rolled out of habit—tumbling across the deck just in time to avoid a nasty swipe along your back. And oh no. The thing crawling up over the railing was worse than any lavender would-be ship thief. The black tipped claws and flared fins were telling enough, but the sharp-toothed grin was somehow more so. It tilted its unnaturally lovely head at you and spoke politely—clearly and very, painfully, slowly.

“What’s—this—perhaps—” you were able to vaguely make out. Maybe. The dark and your panic were both a terrible hindrance to putting shapes to sound. His lips curled into something wicked before parting far more smoothly than the younger man’s had. Singing. It was singing, not screaming. Hauntingly green eyes glowed bright and you felt the tunk tunk tunk beneath your feet of the rest of the crew starting to move around beneath you. Around you.

Then there were more of them—crawling up over the railings, trilling into the night air. All far too lovely and far too sharp to be anything but predators. The moonlight illuminated their fangs and scales in a ghostly white glow. There were shivers running along your spine, but otherwise nothing but silence echoed through your head. Small mercies. You watched several of your fellow crewmates rush out of the cabins only to double over with their hands clasped over their ears. Others stuttered and tumbled forward towards the railings as if they were being dragged along like puppets on a string. You cursed and ducked between them—looping your rope around their legs as you went and tugging them to their knees like a line of falling dominoes.

You let your hapless comrades collapse to the deck and curled the last throws of rope around your fists. You were decent enough with a knife when it came to dueling an unmoving, completely unaware foe—like a barnacle or some rusted over door hinges. But real people? Sirens?Fucking literal blade-tipped-merfolk straight out of every sailor’s nightmare? No thank you. So the teeny blade stayed sheathed at your hip and you dove into the fray to find something rope-wrangle-able.

At the other end of the bow, you watched Purple Boy straighten from a crouch. There were new, silvery blue scales crawling up his neck and forearms. He was still tottering around on legs that he clearly wasn’t all too used to, and you watched as the little guppy started to make a furious beeline for Captain Rosehearts. Which—no. Absolutely not. You were never one of those pirates who was like ‘oh, Captain, my Captain~’ but Riddle was good. He was tough, and taciturn, and could throw a tantrum that could bring down an entire harbor. But he’d written out all of his ridiculous six hundred rules by hand so that you could have them. And the teeny furrow in his brow as he staunchly taught himself hand sign after hand sign so that he could yell at you in earnest was so endearing that you’d protect that little firecracker for as long as you breathed.

So you went after Lavender Head, and then of course Lavender Head turned and tried to shout at you all over again. When that continued to not work at all, the Siren began to backpedal in earnest. He turned his head and squawked at whoever was around to listen, but in the chaos of the attack there didn’t seem to be many of his pod free to lend him a hand.

You descended on the little snake, rope at the ready and perfectly happy to make sushi out of the fucker, when something big overshadowed the both of you. Another Siren crested over the side of the ship, larger and clearly more impressive than the rest of its kin. Which matched your stupidly terrible luck just fine. Ah, yes, Mister Big Bad. Please. Go for the deckhand rather than the literal trained mercenaries less than ten feet away. Brilliant. The Siren bared its fangs like some great, terrible, beast and tore into the paneling with its curved claws as it attempted to drag you down to your watery grave. You cursed, and kicked, and yelped in a panic when the thing managed to get one of those cold, pale hands around your ankle.

Despite the fact that all of it surely happened in less than a few seconds, your descent seemed to progress in steps. First, the Siren tugged you over the side. Second, you smartly flipped the loops of your rope up to try and lasso yourself a handhold. Thirdly, you outright missed the ship and instead tangled the spools of thin rope all around your Murderer To Be. Said Murderer’s eyes widened in shock as your unintentional trap wrapped the both of you up like a mess of bugs in a spider web. And finally, the pair of you crashed towards the churning ocean in a knotted-up heap and slowly sank beneath the waves.

.

.

You rubbed the grit and salt from your eyes and sat up with a groan. Where were you? Not too far out at sea, hopefully. Washing up ashore had been nothing short of a miracle, and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth if it meant you got to avoid becoming chum for another day. The sand beneath your fingers was soft and white, and it slipped beneath your palm like water. You moved to push yourself to your feet and froze—a blur of amethyst swiping out and knocking you back onto your ass with a splash.

You spluttered and spat, and had just barely managed to flip yourself over like a turtle who’d been upended on its back when you caught sight of the absolute last creature in the world that you’d ever wanted to see again.

The big Siren had washed up nearby.

Because of course it had.

The creature narrowed his eyes at you and immediately set about lashing his rope-twisted tail against the sand like a rattlesnake. He bared his pointed teeth in a hiss and you were dowsed in a barrage of saltwater ammunition.

“Stop! Stop!” you begged, spitting out wayward chunks of seaweed, and shells, and gods knew what else. “I get it! I won’t come near you, jeesh! I wasn’t planning on it to begin with!”

The Siren curled his lips unpleasantly, putting that wonderful row of dagger-like pearly whites on display. He spat something completely indiscernible—the line of his mouth so harsh and flat that you couldn’t have even begun to pick up the shape of things if you tried—and you scooted as far back as you could without toppling yourself over again.

He dug his clawed hands into the sand and said something else, just as clipped and tight. You assumed it was an accusation. You were very used to recognizing the glare that accompanied those. When you didn’t respond, his brow tugged down low and he snapped something else—this time jabbing those pointed, black, nails in your direction. Ah, so definitely a complaint then.

You cocked your head at him out of habit and that griping turned into a snarl so ferocious that you could feel it racing up your skin like static. Which was definitely pretty trippy.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you told him honestly. Which just made the spiked fins flatten all along the side of his head and another wave of those zippy sneers dance up your arms. “Literally,” you tried. “I—”

The Siren opened his mouth and that sparky static from earlier amplified into something near painful. It was strong, and prickly, and left the imprints of invisible shackles all along your already aching joints. You could feel his voice carrying on the breeze—brushing against your cheeks and playing with hair. Thin, icy, fingers digging their way into your brain and yanking. But there was something missing from all that ethereal hypnotism. Something pleasant and sweet to complete the circle of temptation. A voice, you’d guess. There had to be a call after all, or else it hardly mattered how deep and all encompassing the need was to answer.  

When you didn’t immediately, like, fall to your knees in subjugation or drown yourself in the inch and a half of tepid water pooling at your hips, the Siren’s eyes dimmed with something that almost looked like hesitance. His brow pinched tight and he parted his red lips wider. A seagull dropped from the sky. Three different crabs crawled out of the sand to bow down.

“I can’t hear you!” you tried again, loud enough to have your teeth aching. His mouth went wider, and an entire ass tuna beached itself to flop pathetically near your ankles. “It’s not a challenge!” you wailed. “My ears literally, actually, do not work, you fucking overgrown anchovy!”

The static disappeared all at once, and the Siren’s lips slipped into a small, surprised sort of ‘o.’ He blinked his too-long lashes at you and stared you down like you were some sort of escaped alchemical experiment.

“There,” you huffed. “Finally.” And then went quiet and a bit concerned. Because apparent Song Immunity or otherwise, the thing was still hugely impressive and scary looking. His claws definitely wouldn’t have any problem picking the leftover bits of you out of his teeth, and you knew well enough that if he dragged you into the depths with that powerful tail of his, there would be no resurfacing.

The Siren too was using this time to glare at you like you were somehow a threat to be taken seriously. Which was half flattering, half pretty funny.

“Well…” you said after a long moment. “I should get going, I suppose.”

You made your way to your feet in the mucky sandbar and started heading off to see where you’d been stranded. You could feel the Siren’s heavy gaze on you the whole while, and decided he was probably trying to figure out if you’d taste better paired with seaweed or a nice jellyfish spread.

.

.

The pair of you had been stranded on a small, crescent, islet that couldn’t even rightly call itself an island. You were able to walk from its curling east to west coasts in just under fifteen minutes, and that was at a meandering pace where you stopped to peer into all kinds of little grottos and rocky formations. There was some vegetation at the heart of it—short palm trees and tufts of grassy knolls—and thankfully a few deep divots that had collected some still rainwater, but otherwise it was entirely boring and stupid. Not even any weird tortoises or anything meandering about to make friends with.

By the time you circled back around to your original stranding point, you had fully expected the Siren to have flipped you the metaphorical bird and fucked off back into the ocean, never to be seen again. Instead, he was still stretched out in the shallows of the bay, carefully fanning his long tail out in the seafoam and picking through the mess of it with his pointy claws.

He reminded you of a beta fish—with wide, flowing, fins that looked far more like silk than skin or scales. The tips were a deep, plum purple that gently faded from near black to violet and finally a vivid sort of lilac at their junction. The bulk of his tail looked like it could be made from literal gemstones with the way it shimmered in the morning light (gems that had perhaps been a bit dinged and/or literally torn out in chunks from where he may or may not have been smashed into the rocky shore curtesy of your terrible hogtie, but who’s to say).

There were jagged cuts lining the right half of his pale torso. They oozed a strange sort of silver ichor that was probably some kind of mystical merman blood, but you absolutely refused to get close enough to try and find out. The fins framing his pelvis were tangled and thin looking, and the sweeping ones that trailed all the way down to the tip of his tail were battered and torn. Clearly pulled to bits by your handy, dandy lasso skills. Which… was still tied up at the base of them. Huh. You’d assumed he’d be able to slice through all that knotwork without issue. But maybe…

You approached the Siren cautiously. You caught the exact moment he must have realized you’d returned because the fins along the sides of his head flattened like the ears on a pissy cat and he turned on you with a very dramatic snarl that probably sounded all sorts of menacing.

“Hello,” you greeted, and the merman spat something that you assumed was probably a very polite ‘fuck right off.’

You nodded because, well, fair enough. And then pointed to his injured fins and the waterlogged ropes still twisted up around the heart of them.

“I can get that off if you promise not to eat me.”

He shouted something no doubt very indignant and then was back to hissing at you. Which definitely didn’t sound like an agreement not to immediately murder you on the spot.

“Alright,” you shrugged. “Your loss, I suppose.”

Well, your loss, really. Keeping a wounded Siren around was just asking for trouble. Their pods were viciously protective for one thing, and that wasn’t even taking into account the poachers and rivals who’d be more than keen to come sniffing after the fresh trail of blood in the water. Maybe you could find a big stick or something and just, I don’t know, push him back into the ocean and be done with it.

The thought must have shown on your face, because suddenly he was smacking his tail against the sandbar and spitting something that you very much assumed was a demand along the lines of ‘you are going to take accountability for this.’

Which absolutely no way in Hell. He’d kidnapped you sort of, so that made you his problem, thank you very much.

You felt your stomach gurgle, and it must have been pretty loud going off the stink eye he sent your way. You turned your nose up at him and went about collecting the various critters that had been washed ashore in his tenor’s tantrum.

“Thanks for the food!” you chirped petulantly as you worked on scaling the tuna with the knife from your belt—making long, pointed, eye contact as you did so.

The Siren sneered at you and went back to grooming the shredded ends of his fins.

The rest of the afternoon became a sort of pissing contest between the two of you to see who could earn the title of Bitchiest Beach Bitch. You thought you were definitely winning with the whole ‘eating something that could have been his long-lost cousin’ thing, but then he went and swamped the entirety of the small fire you built (and all of said ‘cousin’ being cooked over it) with one sweep of his tail, so now you were at the very least tied. You set up a nice little shaded hutch out of driftwood and ferns to escape the sun, he called down seagulls to shit all over it and pick it to pieces. He tried to roll around to reach some of the tighter fibers tangled in his pectoral fins, and you chucked rocks at him until he reared on you with a scream that had all the hairs on your arms standing on end. Y’know. Perfectly mature things like that.

That night you curled up beside a tall, jagged rock just at the outskirt of the bay—determined to get some shut eye but to also keep within range of your newest pest in case he decided to try and pull something sneaky. But every time you’d just about settled in to sleep, the shallow tide would lap against your toes in harsh shush shush shushes that had you furrowing you brow until you finally had enough and sat up to see what all the hubbub was about.

The Siren was tossing around in the shallows like a fish in a net—throwing his long body against the bindings and flailing like his life depended on it. And as much as he’d definitely deserved to get caught up in your unintentional hogtie, watching something as large and no doubt powerful as he was wriggling around like a worm on a hook was… Well. Something soured a bit in your gut as you watched him give one, final, great buck against his bindings before collapsing back into the shallows in a circle of seafoam. He panted against the surface of the water, the tips of his pale hair dripping down in a curtain around his haggard face, and you could see a fine tremor running along his shoulder blades.

You turned back to your rock and ground the heels of your palms into your eyes, fighting the absolute batshit insane urge to feel bad for a monster who had literally tried to drag you to your death less than twenty-four hours ago.

The water was calm and still for the rest of the night.

.

.

The next morning, you picked up a few of the crabs who had crawled up to shore and went about getting them clean and fit for eating. You glanced at the Siren, who was busy preening over his janky fins and fussing over his hair. It was entirely unfair that you probably looked like a half-drowned rat, and yet this creature that wasn’t even meant to exist on the surface was somehow managing to put himself together well enough to rival the courtesans you’d seen meandering around some of the wealthier coastal towns.

You stared at the crabs. There were three of them. It wasn’t really sharing if it was meant to be a bribe to keep him from eating you whole. Or at least, that’s what you reassured yourself as you cautiously tiptoed back to the water’s edge.

The Siren swiveled on you with a snap of something that looked sort of like a ‘What?!’ and you held up one of the gutted crabs in offering.

“I don’t know if you all eat fish or whatever, but…” You waved the limp crab awkwardly.

The Siren rolled its purple eyes and said something fast and sharp that you couldn’t really parse. Something, something, not, something, something, are crust—Something, something, are you that stupid? (you recognized the impressions of those words well enough to mouth them even in your sleep).

“Look, do you want it or not?” you interrupted, and he bristled—all those delicate, violet, fins flaring up like a porcupine’s spikes.

The Siren crossed his arms stiffly and pointedly turned in the other direction with a mutter of something you had no hopes of catching.

“Whatever,” you snapped and went to bite into your meal. Only to immediately forget that these pointy little fuckers still had their shells on them. You reeled back with a yelp as you stabbed a million, tiny, carapace-shaped holes in your tongue.

The fucking Siren had the gall to turn back around so that you could see him laughing at you.

.

.

That night he was back to flipping around in the shallows like a miniature hurricane.

You counted out the waves sloshing against your heels, telling yourself you’d intervene in his self-destructive tsunami once it hit one hundred. And then it became two, then three. You shifted hesitantly to peek over the rock’s edge and watched him curl into himself like some terribly wounded creature before shaking himself out of the fog of pain that had clearly settling over his nerves, and then continued with his nonsense.

You hurled a big, pink seashell at his head and he whipped on you like a rabid dog, practically foaming at the mouth and raring for a fight. When he lunged forward with the waves—seething with hatred, and blame, and nearly crashing onto his already shredded front in the process, something angry in your snapped.

“Look, fish face! You were the one who attacked me! You!” you demanded, stomping perhaps a bit closer than would be rational. “So stop acting like I’m some scheming shithead who was planning to trap you like this from the start!”

The Siren roared something back and slapped his tail in the surf. Static zipped along your cheeks and you grit your teeth. He glared at you bitterly and then began to repeat one word over and over—slow and angry.

‘Eeeeehhh-Pppe-llllll’ said his lips. Strong and harsh with the shape of it.

And then he was back to spewing all kinds of rapid-fire vitriol that you wouldn’t have bothered to keep track of even if you could. Something in his expression shifted almost quicker than you could notice and he lifted his massive tail out of the water. He smacked the fins in your direction and pointedly jabbed a clawed finger at the creases of them—where delicate, silky, tendrils met strong, gem toned, muscle. Where the purple was light and clean. A pale, shiny, lavender. Almost just like—

“That kid?” you frowned. “You attacked me because of Purple Head?!”

He sneered again and pointedly sent a splash of seawater into your face.

“You—” you grit your teeth. “He was still attacking us first! He was going after my friend!” you snapped, kicking your own wave back. For all the good it would do. “You don’t get to act all noble and protective, and like any of that makes any difference when you all were going to eat us!”

The Siren’s face twisted up like you’d force fed him soured milk, and he looped back around with a dramatic fwoosh of water to dive into the shallows. It was maybe two or three feet deep at best, and he was barely submerged. Not to mention how utterly ridiculous it looked to see a creature that was no doubt usually the peak of grace and athleticism reduced to flopping belly first into the waves with his proverbial legs tied up behind him. But you recognized a door slamming in your face when you saw it, no matter the species. Fine. Let him be a petty bastard. He could rot away in the sandbar for all you cared.

.

.

The next day you woke up with goosebumps crawling up and down your limbs.

There were all sorts of gulls crash-landed in the sand around you and more sad, little, sea creatures gasping on the beach than you dared to count. You shoved a particularly chubby octopus back into a tidepool as you passed and wondered just what sort of nonsense your co-strandee was getting up to now.

The Siren was circling the bay with his head held high above the low waves—lips parted and clearly caterwauling like a dying porpoise. The surface of the water trembled with whatever was making its way out of his mouth, and he looped and looped around the shores. It reminded you of the time you’d seen a whale calf separated from its pod. It had gotten trapped in a shallow inlet when the tides had changed, and your ship had been anchored just off the same coast. You’d watched it circle and circle, lifting its heavy snout to snort sharp jets of water into the air. Deuce had passed you a scribbled note when you’d asked him what it sounded like.

‘It’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.’

There was a moment where the Siren paused in his paces and tilted his head. The fins there flared out to the side, like he was listening for something. But after a long moment the spines drooped back against his damp hair and he went back to his singing an aria to no one.

‘It’s looking for its family,‘ Riddle had signed to you when you’d asked him why the calf didn’t simply leave once the tides had turned in its favor. ‘This is where they last saw it, so this is where it will stay.’

“Maybe they forgot about him already,” you mused petulantly, turning back towards the center of the islet to try and scavenge up something to eat from all the poor creatures who had collapsed beneath your nemesis’s wailing.  

The bitter thought wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it ought to be.

.

.

That night, the waters were still.

You squinted suspiciously at the merman curled in the shallows of the bay. He’d pulled himself half-out of the water, resting his more human looking bulk in the soft sand as gentle waves lapped at his tail. He slept on his front with his arms crossed beneath his pointed chin—his unbound fins sticking up behind him in a way that deliriously reminded you of bedhead. You watched him carefully for nearly an hour, searching for any tightness in his muscles or change in his breathing that might indicate he was faking it. But as the evening stretched on and he never lurched awake to try and gauge your eyes out, you assumed he might actually be properly resting.

He'd been swimming in circles all day—the aborted, stuttering, beats of his bound tail looking painful even by your non-tail-having standards. Eventually the tremors along the ocean had grown stuttered and strange, like perhaps his voice was giving out on him. And once that had happened, he’d curled up exactly where he was now. And hadn’t moved since.

You stared at the Siren hesitantly. He was certainly in enough of a state that you could probably pull off that whole ‘shoving him into the depths with a stick’ thing. He’d probably just let you do it—sink to the bottom in a mess of shredded fins and tangled twine and never rise again.

You gnawed at your lip, feeling something unpleasantly hot and sticky twist up your stomach.

The knife glinted between your fingers and you thought of crying whales and of the crew that you already missed so much that it felt like a gnawing chasm had opened in your chest.

You huffed out a miserable sigh and lamented for not the first time in your life that you really were just so fucking stupid sometimes. And then you were cautiously making your way down towards the waterline and the sleeping Siren sprawled out in the sand. Slowly—so very, very slowly—you tiptoed towards the mer and tried to get a quick glance at what amounted to the worst of the damage.

The rope had been thin and long, and the more he’d struggled, the more he’d dug the twine into his fins. You reached forward at half speed and slipped the blade into one of the too-tight creases beneath the bindings. You winced a bit in sympathy at the raw, pink skin beneath. No wonder he hadn’t been able to just rip the fibers away. He’d probably just ended up tugging them over and over against the oozing wounds beneath.

The first strand broke beneath your fingers with something that almost felt like a pop. Like seams ripping on a shirt. You glanced quickly at the sleeping Siren to confirm he was still lost to the world and not gearing up to bite your fingers off at the knuckle, and then continued making your way through the worst of it. It reminded you a bit of the time Ace had accidentally snared a sea turtle in one of his fishing nets and the lot of you had spent the better part of an hour slowly working the thing free of the seemingly endless tangles. You delicately worked the tightest edges away from the harsh indentations they’d left against his scales and peeled back the muckier bits with enough gentleness to avoid mangling anymore of his already battered fins.

The last of the rope finally came away with a satisfying, wet weight and you let it fall to the sand beside you with a pleased nod. Now you could let Mister Merman swim away in the morning with no unpleasantly gross sense of moral obligation weighing down your consciousness. Maybe he’d even be thankful enough to look at you with something other than a venomous glare for once. Certainly nothing like the one leveled at you right now. And—

Oh.

You didn’t even have time to properly gasp before you were being flipped and pinned into the wet sand. The Siren loomed over you, digging his black claws into your shoulder until you could feel the first pricks of blood breaking the surface. He snarled in your face, the curtain of his pale blonde hair shadowing his eyes in something so dark it was nearly black. The brilliant purple cast off his glowing irises were like little spots of stars in an otherwise empty night sky.

He leaned forward, teeth bared, and then some sort of tight expression flickered over his face. He paused, brow tugging together steep and angry. He hunched down once more, fangs at the ready, and then ducked back out. He shook his head, like he was trying to clear fog from his brain, and then he was snapping his canines at you all over again.

The Siren reared back with a booming snarl that sent ripples through the soft tide lapping at your ankles. He turned with one, final, icy glower and dove back into the shallows, disappearing beneath the surface in a flash of amethyst scales. He flicked his tail sharply as he went, and one of the tattered fins snapped against your nose with enough of a crack to make you yelp.

You sat up in disbelief, rubbing at your aching skin and watching in outright consternation as the great predator of the oceans swam tight laps beneath the warm waters of your little lagoon—fins occasionally cresting over the surface to smack pointed fistfuls of water into your gaping face.

Deliriously, one of The Rose Queen’s hundreds of nonsensical rules bounced about your head. Happy to fill the otherwise entirely empty space behind your eyes.

‘Never save a Sea Serpent on a Sunday,’ Riddle had demanded, hands at his hips. ‘No Serpents, or Sea Horses, or Sirens to speak of.’

‘Man,’ you thought wildly, brain high on adrenaline and static as you watched one of the aforementioned Sirens swan about like he hadn’t probably just been a half second away from gnawing on your literal bones. ‘If I get out of this alive, Captain’s definitely gonna collar me this time.’

.

.

.

[TAG LIST]

@marvelous-maxi, @ilikefanfics4, @jackalope08, @crocwork-clockodile, @cosmicobubisi, @buttplugs-stuff, @pomefleur, @decemebercircus, @ailynyan, @genzombie, @meliade-ot, @sunlightocean, @theofficialantitherapist, @hermiona18, @sailorenthusiast, @fantasy-dating-sim-trash, @thefiasco-onyourblock, @insideous-beez, @its-clockwork-princess

@novaloptr, @imlost-sendhelp, @matcha-berry @preciosayorgullosa @whoretaglia, @kookygirlwholikescookiesandcoke, @nanauedorian, @trixeraptops, @voxnipop, @starkling25, @thedum1, @horcrux-alchemist, @sleepykitty21, @apathicace, @instantregret101, @nekanecorvus, @looney-mori, @re-ducing, @my2phetaliaheadcanons, @naughtybodypillow, @rendy-a, @carmen-404, @candy284, @thealiennamedterry, @their-name-is-fake, @huetolog, @glacticrose, @seraphinariddle, @rabioa, @sn00zl4x, @dreasimping, @jeidoreech, @ai-dev, @galaxyshine24-7, @fatally-incorrect, @juulranch, @camrastuff, @nocteetdie, @stargaryengirl,

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Vil x Reader #vil schoenheit #Mermay #Monster Mayhem #My Writing #vil shoenheit #Siren!Vil #Mermaid!Vil #Fantasy AU #Monster Mayhem Vil Part 1

[lou-struck]

They Said No... Part 2

Obey Me! x MC!

Featuring: Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, and Belphegor

Part 1 HERE

Part 3 HERE

~We all get asked to do things sometimes that we do not want to do. And it's okay to say no, but sometimes you need a little extra help to get the point across.

Warnings: Pushy Demons, talk of pact control, Threats, Betrayal

Satan:

The Avatar of Wrath has a bit of cat fur on his usually pristine uniform but has never been happier, RAD is hosting an animal adoption event, and he has spent most of his morning with the adoptable cats having the time of his life. The only thing he is missing is you.

You would love every minute of the event, and so Satan has made it his mission of the day to find you and bring you to the feline-filled classroom.

Stepping into the nearly empty corridor, he sees you sitting on one of the ancient stone benches, mindlessly scrolling through your DDD with one hand and toying with a button on your uniform with the other.

"Mc, there you are." a voice interjects before he can even open his mouth; you lift your head and look towards the owner of the shrill and unfamiliar voice. A Demon Satan doesn't care enough to recognize steps towards you. "I've been looking for you everywhere."

"Oh, hi." You don't meet their gaze, opting instead to stare at the ground in a way that tells Satan you would rather be anywhere else than talking to them. It irks him greatly, but he can't just interrupt yet.

"The brothers aren't here, so you can speak freely now. Did you see my messages?" they ask, taking another step towards you. "You know I've liked you for a while now, but I don't understand why you won't go out with me."

You look up at them apologetically but take a step further away from your not-so-secret admirer. "I'm so sorry, but my feelings are not the same; I've told you before that I am not interested, so can you please leave me alone.

"NO," the lesser Demons shouts, "you don't understand. I like you, which means you are Mine."

That is all Satan needs to hear, and his legs move forward on their own. His anger at this lesser Demon threatens to bubble to the surface as he approaches. Stepping between the two of you protectively.  

The Demon flinches but doesn't back down entirely. They open their pathetic little mouth to babble out some delusional retort, only to have their words die on their tongue.

"MC said they were not interested in the likes of you," he growls, his emerald eyes aglow as he stares down your harasser. "I suggest you leave before you manage to make me even angrier than you already have."

The Demon leaves satisfyingly quickly, leaving Satan with you. He notices that you look a bit shaken up but utterly relieved to be rid of that Demon. The wrath he felt earlier disappears as you throw yourself into the safety of his embrace. 

The cat can wait, but for now, he just needs to make sure you are okay.

Asmodeus:

Asmodeus is feeling particularly radiant today; the only thing that he thinks he can attribute this glow to other than the universe recognizing his beauty is that his elation to be going on this special little outing with you is showing for all the Devildom to see. 

How lucky are they?

He feels light on his feet as he walks down the cobbled streets of Majolish to the little bistro you promised to meet him at for your Devilgrammable date.

His Peach-colored gaze scans the plaza until it finds you sitting at one of the adorably small tables on the patio, your figure clad in the sweater he bought for you a few weeks ago. You just look so cute. He feels his heart flutter in a way that doesn't quite fit the Lust for which he has been known.

But you are not alone; standing over you is a demon he has seen you frequently talking to at RAD.

A friend of yours? 

Maybe?

But something feels off about the way you are looking up at them as if they are making you uncomfortable. As pretty and kind as you are, Asmo knows that you are trying very hard to keep your emotions undetectable. He has to know why.

Focusing on your conversation, he is able to hear what the other Demon is trying to talk to you about.

"Mc, y-you said we were f-friends," they whine in an exasperated voice. "Why won't y-you help me?" large tear drops run down their pearl-colored skin and onto the pavement below. 

"What you are asking me to do is wrong," you say calmly. "I would never do that to Asmo or anyone else for that matter."

"All you have to do is tell Lord Asmodeus to love me as I love him." they huff. "But you wouldn't even do that for me. I love him, and I deserve to have him for my own."

"I wouldn't be telling him you want me to order him to do it," you say. "I don't think I can be friends with you anymore."

The Demon waves your words off as if they were nothing of consequence, an action that makes Asmo narrow his eyes as he starts to approach. "I never wanted to be friends with some ugly human in the first place, I only wanted Asmodeus, and you were a means to an end. But it seems that you just want to keep all the Brothers for yourself."

"Even if Mc did want to keep us for themselves, they deserve to," Asmo interjects at last, hugging you from behind and placing his head on your shoulder. "I mean, just look at them; they are soooo cute."

The earlier cruelty that had been on the Pearl demon's face vanished in an instant as their cheeks flushed heavily. "L-lord Asmodeus," they breathe. "I didn't mean it like that; the two of us were just having a bit of a friendly disagreement, that's all."

All of the annoyance and irritation that Asmo had been feeling comes forward, and he exudes a threatening aura as he stares down the Demon, not caring enough to charm them into submission. "Yeah, no, I heard more than enough to know that you need to stay away from Mc." he sighs, lowering his voice enough to send a shiver down the other Demon's spine, and they rush away.

Now alone, Asmo turns his attention to you and smiles brightly as if nothing had happened. "Sorry I'm late, Hon; let's go and order our drinks; I think after that, we both need a little extra love."

Beelzebub:

Beel feels like he's going to die of hunger. Whenever RAD does schoolwide exams, he is not allowed to eat in the classroom. It seems like ages since he has last eaten. The test took him a lot longer than he thought it would take. But before he leaves to go to Hell's kitchen, he wants to find you and bring you along with him. He doesn't quite understand why, but food always tastes better when you are with him.

He hears your voice from down the hall, a happy smile resting on his face as he follows the sound. He says you sat at one of the long study tables in the common room, a mountain of books at your side, and one of your classmates standing over you.

"I'm sorry," you say softly. "But I told you before. But I have too much on my plate right now. You'll have to do that part of the assignment yourself. " 

Your classmate sighs, shaking their head in disapproval. "And I thought you were a nice MC, the kind of human who wouldn't hesitate to help out someone who needs it. You obviously don't have anything better to do, so just do my portion of the project. I'll pay you for your work."

What? 

Why is this Demon being so mean to you? 

Beelzebub truly doesn't understand why your classmate is treating you this way; you were very nice in turning them down. And he wouldn't want to do someone's project, either.

You clear your throat, "It's not about the Grimm; I just don't have time to do someone else's work. If you're struggling, I suggest you ask a professor to give you an extension." 

Your classmate is hovering over you now, trying to intimidate you with their size. "You don't seem to know your place, Human; when a demon asks you to do something, I expect you to bow your head and do it obediently."

The Scene before him is too much for poor Beel; angrily, he steps forward, placing a large hand on the other Demon's shoulder. "That's close enough, Mc said they did not want to do anything for you."

The Demon flinches as he turns towards Beel in shock. "B-Beelzebub, I'm sorry, but I needed to remind this human that we demons are superior.

Beel's hunger and anger have fused into one, and he looks down at the Demon with disdain. "Mc is and always will be more important than you; if anything, you should be doing their work."

"no, they don't; I just need them to do their own work." You interject

"R-right, thank you." They mutter, picking their bag off the floor and running away.

"Are you alright, Mc?" he asks, looking at you with a violet gaze of adoration. "That must've been pretty scary."

You nod and take his hand, "I'm okay now, Beel, thank you for stepping in. Can I buy you lunch as a thank you?"

"Could we go to Hell's Kitchen?"

"Absolutely," you smile, "anything for my hero."

Hero? He likes the sound of that for some reason; he smiles happily, picking up your books as the two of you walk side by side out the doors of RAD.

Belphegor:

It's the stiffness in his neck that wakes Belpheghor from his nap. Maybe taking a nap on top of all of these decorative pillows wasn't that good of an idea after all. He sits up slowly, rubbing out the knot in his neck, feeling quite annoyed at the situation.

"Oh Belphie, you're awake." you smile, poking your head into the doorway, "I just placed an order for food. It should be here soon if you're hungry."

Just like that, all of his annoyance has vanished. "Thank you, Mc." he grins boyishly; moments like these make him happy to be awake. 

"No problem, I think they are getting close; I'll wait by the door until it arrives," you say before disappearing down the hallway. 

It's then he realizes that you probably had to order a lot of food since Beel is getting home from the gym soon and will need help carrying it all to the dining room once it gets here.

Belphie gets up from his seat and heads over to the front door where you must be waiting.

"You sure ordered a lot of food. Do you need any help bringing it in?" a voice asks. The delivery driver must be here already. 

"Yeah, I guess I did go overboard," you say good-humoredly. "But It will all get eaten, I promise you that."

"You're pretty cute, aren't ya?" The delivery man cooed, pulling back the bag playfully. "How about you give me your number, and then you get your food?"

You laugh nervously at his words. "I'm sorry, but I can't do that."

"and why not?" They laugh cockily. "Are you feeling a little shy? Because that's cute too."

Belphie's jaw clenches as he wonders what is with this guy. How dare he try and take you away from him.

"I'm taken," you respond, the irritation slipping through your voice as you meet his gaze.

They scoff, tossing the bag of food on the ground roughly. "Aren't you just a fricken tease then? All I ask for is your number, so how about you be a good human and give it to me?"

Belphegor knows you could have handled this guy, but he was honestly so irritated he had to step in. "Ugh, you're so annoying. Mc already paid, so you can go on your way."

Your harasser is arrogant, not stupid. He knows that he has no chance against one of the seven avatars of sin. He shuts his annoying mouth and stomps down the steps of the House of Lamination.

You watch him leave with a relieved smile on your face, "are you okay, Mc?" he asks, grabbing your hand.

"I am now," you smile "Thank you for helping me, Belphie."

#obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #obey me scenarios #obey me x reader #obey me #obey me headcanons #belphegor x reader #belphegor fluff #obey me beelzebub #obey me satan #omswd x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #asmo x reader #beelzebub x reader #beel x reader

[datcravat]

HI HELLO I love your art So much,,, do you have any tutorials on how you render your stuff? For example, the colors you use & how you pick them, how you get that pink tone around the Lineart (I think) (it's just rly cool). I would love to see stuff like that, cuz your art is Such visual candy (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

Hey! Thank you so much, I'm glad you like my art, I worked hard to make it what it is!! Means a lot you appreciate it!!!!!!

I've had no professional art training, I seriously don't know what I'm doing and struggle making tutorials. But will try here!!

For me the colour work is really situational on the drawing! I find myself experimentally attempting to weaponize colour theory and there's a lot of instinct involved that I can't figure out how to verbalise yet. Here's an example of some thought process I have:

My main advice is to play with sliders a lot and really experiment (that's what I do for every drawing)!

To get the pink glow around your lineart, copy your lineart layer, fill the copy in with a pink of your choice (sometimes I do a gradient), blur the layer (experiment with how much blur you'd like), put it directly below the lineart layer, and set the layer to multiply (or any mode you think looks pretty)!

You may want to adjust your piece's brightness/colours after applying it and sharpen the image after exporting.

A lot of colour gradients are involved and on their own they can eventually compromise the gritty/punchy style, especially the ones that are between extreme and subtle. A good way to combat this is with screentones/haftones!! You can use them to diversify colours and imply shading/texture.

I recommend going nuts and having a lot of fun with it to find what works for you!

I often add a lot of small lens flares as they satisfyingly cut through the piece, imply flash photography (which goes well with the strong black shading), add visual noise to areas you don't want to be your main point of focus, are a great way to show speculars, and idk man sparkles are just pretty haha.

Go nuts with them and have fun!! When you get them to look good, think to yourself why that is.

I made a tutorial ~1 year ago on how I shade with black. This simple trick will really help it look good, 3D and rendered - it just requires a lot of knowledge about shadows to start with. I have a lot of experience rendering "normally" which helped me learn how to use black in an experimental way.

Minor correction that the shadows labelled "ambient occlusion" in the tutorial are actually just normal shadows, ambient occlusion is total lack of light.

I hope this is useful to you!! You have a knack for art, your work is very inspired. Please keep drawing!! I am still learning too, let's keep going baby.

-Cravat x

#ask #tutorial #my art #art tutorial #thank you for the ask!!

[themultifandomgal]

Jay Halstead- Work Husband Pt1

I walk into the break room to grab myself a coffee. Jay, my partner is already in there making two drinks

"Good morning" I greet him

"Morning" he hands me a cup after he pours the hot water in

"Thanks" I give him a smile

"Your very welcome. Actually I erm wanted to speak to you"

"What's up?" I ask frowning but before Jay can talk to me Adam pops his head in to the break room letting us know that Voight wanted to speak to us. He asks me and Jay to talk to a source to find out some information about our perp.

Jay and I get in the car, me behind the steering wheel. At first it's quiet. Then jay breaks the silence

"I think it's time we can be honest with each other. Wouldn't you agree?" This makes me feel a little nervous, but I try to hide it

"Depends"

"Ok I'm just going to say it"

"Go on then"

"You driving all the time? I'm not down with that"

"Tough. I drive"

"I've been on the job longer" I see Jay now looking at me through my peripheral vision. I glance at him before looking back at the road

"Well I've been in this unit longer"

"Ok honestly? I feel like a house husband" I chuckle at this then put on a straight face and glance at Jay

"I'd say sorry..." I stop the car and take my belt off and now give Jay my full attention "but I was told not to lie. Now let's go" I open up my door and both Jay and I start to walk to the shop when a guy whistles at me

"Shake it baby" I raise a brow at him then shake my head

"Jay" I nod my head towards the shop

"Watch yourself" Jay warns

"Yes sir officer sir" the guy says back to

"Does that ever catch girls attention?"

"Jay it's fine. Leave it" I open up the door to the shop "hi Chicago PD we would like to ask you a few questions" I say showing my badge

"Sure"

"A pay-as-you-go phone was purchased from your store in the last 24 hours" Jay starts as I take out the phone number from my pocket

"We're looking for who bought it"

"Yeah, a Juan Garcia. Yesterday. Paid cash"

"Any other information you can provide us?" I ask

"No, we're not responsible for  background checks"

"True, but it is a fairly common name. You know, there's not a lot we can do with that" I give the store clerk a sweet smile

"You don't tell me how to do my job. I don't tell you how to do yours" the guy hands the number back to me as I continue to smile

"You're Glen Pearson, right? The owner of this place?"

"That's right"

"You know, it looks like there's a Glen Pearson with deceptive practice and fraud charge"

"Huh" I cross my arms looking at Jay

"Yeah for selling stolen merchandise

out of Gary, Indiana" Jay shows me a fake police report made to just scare the guy "That's a 25,000 dollar expeditable must-hold warrant"

"Hmm. What do you think Halstead? Height, weight match. Eye color, too"

"Yeah" he nods his head "hey I've got an idea. Why don't we throw some bracelets on him, we'll take him down to the station, run his prints, and then we can be sure" Jay gives me a little nudge

"I got a nanny cam up here. I can pull some footage. Get a picture of the guy who did it.

It's best I can do"

"Oh that's great" Jay and I both smile "oh and I'll have some gum"

We leave the store after getting a photo. I place a piece of gum in my mouth

"I knew that would work"

"Now we just gotta figure out who this idiot is" I pass the photo over to Jay as the same guy we passed earlier throws a bottle

"Why don't you bring that ass over to place sometime girl. I'll let you in"

"Hey" I say to Jay who looks pissed "it's fine. Let's go" Jay takes off his holster and badge, handing them over to me "ok. Yeah" I nod my head. Jay and the guy have a little tiff earning an eye roll from me "oh my hero" I give Jay his things back "and by the way I'm still driving" I run over to the drivers side of the car before driving us back to the precinct to talk over what we have found out.

#one chicago #one chicago imagine #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd #jay halstead x y/n #jay halstead x you #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x oc #jay halstead x yn #jay halstead #jay halstead imagine

[lowkeyrobin]

headcannons where quackity's s/o has tattoos? could also be nsfw, if you're comfortable with it :))

I don't write NSFW but I can definitely do the tattoo part! thanks for requesting!! I don't think I've actually posted a quackity focused thing yet which is surprising to me bc I have like 3 drafts for him LMAO

QUACKITY ; tattooed lover

summary ; you have tattoos and your boyfriend is head over heels

warnings ; language; talk of needles / pain of tattoos, use of quackitys real name (lmk if I should change it!)

word count ; 670

genre ; fluff

masterlist

In general, he'll act normal about all your tattoos and whatnot, but inside every time he sees your arms (especially if you have sleeves or some sick ones around your wrists that trail up your arm even a bit) he'll just get a little red in the cheeks. He absolutely loves all your ink. He thinks it's so sick, but he's not committed enough to get any, and he doesn't think he has the pain tolerance.

he went with you to get a new tattoo on your shoulder/upper arm area

he learned you'd be there for like 5 hours and he groaned like a shitty iPad kid and took his phone out while he threatened to call Philza

once he saw the tattoo gun... oh lord it was over

literally whisper shouted at you while the artist got up to get gloves

"that's what you're getting jabbed with??? why are we here again???"

genuinely can't look

once he hears the buzzing he turns his music on and he's staring down while he sits on the couch across from you

"Alex, look!" you smile, "I'm fine"

"how do I know you're not a clone?"

"Holy shit. dude it's the quackityhq duck, that's why I brought you along"

"WAIT WHAT?"

it's not a big tattoo whatsoever, but it's a reminder that he's always with you, how you've grown together and how that's always going to be an era of your content you'd never forget about

literally gets emotional about it

"You didn't have-"

"I wanted to, for the millionth time"

he genuinely didn't know tattoos were so expensive, once you leave he questions why it was 450 dollars and you explain to him how tattoo artist income works

He's not the one to want to peel off the second skin or pop the ink bubbles or even touch the tattoo until the skin goes back to normal. He's just kinda freaked out for some reason, it's just one of those things and it honestly makes sense.

He takes some dedicated time to sniff all the lotions and numbing creams and comment on each and every one, though. All while you're trying to do some aftercare on it and shit, and you just watch.

"this one smells like buttercream icing"

"yeah?"

"ew, this one smells like badboyhalo's ass!"

"why would you even know that? 😁"

If you have any tats without color, Alex will gladly color them in with washable markers like you're a walking coloring book. He'll literally call for you and ask you if he can color on you again, it's cute, really.

"y/n/n, can I color your tattoos again?"

"aren't you streaming?"

"so?"

"yeah, fine"

he has a whole gallon sized ziploc bag filled with Crayola washable markers

like he goes from playing on the qsmp and hanging out with some people to coloring all over you while said people watch 😭

you wave to his friends like "Hello, I am his walking therapy coloring book"

he's like a little kid. You just look over at him like, "Holy shit I could love you forever wtf"

Sometimes, he'll just draw you new tattoos (with washable markers dw) cause he gets bored and wants to doodle on you. Most of the time it ends up being stick figures and dicks but it's okay, it's his way of showing affection.

He'll genuinely think of song that remind him of each of your tattoos. Somehow, some way, he does. He has a whole playlist titled 'Y/n's tattoos', and he rarely listens to it, but he thinks it's fun to think of a new song when you get another tattoo.

Although he is a little concerned because what's gonna happen when you're old and wrinkly? How do the tattoos last? Do they become old and wrinkly like the tattooed grandmas meme? Because if so, he'll rip on you til the end of time.

"well I have a long time before I look like a tattooed elderly person, but okay"

"So you will? Oh my fucking God! BAHAHAHA"

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #quackity x reader #qsmp x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #quackityhq x reader #quackity headcannons #alex quackity #alex quackity x reader

[medievill]

okay. okay. I think I've finally figured out the worst part of the "Ed's going to be an abuser just like his dad" headcanon some of y'all have.

let's go for a ride.

abuse is cyclical, and not just in a micro sense. it's not just "I love you, you're garbage, I'm sorry, I love you, I'm the only one who loves you because you're garbage, I'm sorry, I love you," etc. I mean macro. I mean generationally.

I mean that parents teach their children how to have relationships. we show our kids how adults interact with each other, how adults interact with kids, how kids should interact with kids. we model this behavior constantly. it's one of the most nerve-wracking things about being a parent, actually: you live in a fish bowl now, and the fish bowl is your home, and your children are constantly observing your behavior and interactions, even when you don't want them to, even when you think they're not.

growing up in a home with an abusive parent doesn't just expose you to the abuse—physical, emotional, psychological, religious, whatever it is—it teaches the child that this is how relationships work. and then this kid goes out into the world, interacting with other humans all willy-nilly, and bringing all the knowledge that their parents armed them with to bear. and when the kid (hopefully) realizes that wait, actually, shouting and throwing things and hitting people isn't good, that's not the way you interact, it is solely up to that kid to fix their shit. if they're lucky, they've got someone in their life to help them with that. but even once you've recognized that there's Bad Stuff happening in your interpersonal relationships, you have to retrain your brain. you have to change your go-to reaction. because you can recarve your neural pathways, but it is fucking hard work.

I didn't grow up with a physically abusive parent; I grew up with an emotionally abusive one. every time my partner does something that annoys me, or we disagree on something, and my reaction is "well, I don't really feel like talking"—if you don't think that I don't half- to full-on panic about wait is this the silent treatment, am I doing what my dad did, you are absolutely incorrect. it is a constant fear, that my reactions are inherently abusive. I am constantly gaslighting myself into believing that everything I do in a relationship is bad, hurtful, abusive. I am constantly having to convince myself that it's okay sometimes not to want to talk, and to sometimes be annoyed, and to sometimes disagree, and that none of this is inherently abusive.

now. Ed fucking Teach. do you not think the guy's spent some time introspecting? examining his inner most self? he's smart, and he's depressed, so, yeah. I bet he has. so do you not think, you absolute monsters, that he isn't doing the same fucking thing? Ed Teach, who convinced himself that defending him and his mom against constant violence (a white man, and as if this was a random choice)—ultimately saving their lives (and no, this is not an exaggeration)—made him an unloveable, unlikeable monster. Ed Teach, who is so desperate for love and friendship that his biggest fantasy is owning an inn, where people stay because they want to.

do you really think that one of the thousand internal battles Ed my beloved is fighting isn't don't be your dad don't be your dad don't be your dad? fighting, fucking tooth and nail, to be different. (same as Stede!) this reactionary headcanon literally misses so much of the point of the whole character; it buys into the British Navy's propaganda about him, and worse. it buys into the narrative that a man of color is inherently violent, inherently incapable of change.

#tw: abuse #tw: domestic abuse #tw: emotional abuse #ofmd #our flag means death #ed my beloved #ofmd meta #canyon critical

[strxytwig]

Gojo Got Drunk

Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

Summary: You went out for your annual holiday drinks with some coworkers. This year, Gojo drank something other than soda. You weren't ready for the antics.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Gojo being drunk, slight angst

A/N: Doing a small character study with this blue eyed princess. I also haven't written in months and I'm extremely rusty af

+

You found Gojo’s bobbing figure amusing, like watching one of those bendy inflatables. He sluggishly clung to whoever was nearest, face colored red from drinking and his head lolled side to side between conversation. The first victim of the night, Nanami, could only handle his drunk antics for so long before he slid out of the booth and left the white-haired sorcerer moping and making grabby hands to anyone whose name he could drunkenly sound out.

Normally, Gojo composed himself when out for drinks. He stuck to soda or a mocktail while acting the biggest fool among other drunks. How he let himself go tonight made no sense to the rest of you, nor were you that concerned. He acted no different to any other day, albeit a little clingier. Gojo was always loud.

"He's an idiot," Shoko said when you stared too long at his bobbing head. You turned your attention to her as she filled your glasses for the third round. "I doubt he even had two drinks."

"Yeah." You laughed to yourself, shifting in your booth seat. "It's kind of funny." You looked back at him when he toyed with the tiny umbrella in his drink. His mouth dropped in a pout with the overhead light reflecting off of his shades. "I don't think I've ever seen him drunk."

"Enjoy it while it lasts. He's not going to drink again after this."

You hummed. "Guess he really is a lightweight."

"Nice bracelet," Shoko said. You looked down to where she pointed at the shiny bangle on your wrist. "Where'd you get it?"

"I got it as a present from my mom." You twisted your wrist a little to show it off. "Between this or the fuzzy socks I got from her and the fountain pen from my dad, this one seemed appropriate for tonight."

"Would have loved to see you in your fuzzy socks." Shoko rested her chin in her hand.

"Yeah, I guess." You set your wrist down and shrugged. "I don't know. It feels like we're not close anymore."

"Are you going home for New Year's?"

You shook your head. "No point in trying."

She narrowed her eyes. "I get it." She sighed and took a drink from her glass. "It's a tough job with tough hours."

"Sometimes, I wonder if I should have taken my cousin's advice and worked an office job." You pouted. "Then again, that's a whole different hell."

"No rest for the wicked."

"No." You sighed and sank deeper into your chair.

An arm quickly slung around your shoulder. At the same moment, they tugged, dragging you down into someone's chest. You floundered and stabilized yourself before you could fall out of the booth. Your hands gripped the table for purchase. Your heart raced from the jolt

"Why the long face?" Gojo chastised you,bending his knees. "It's Christmas Eve. You should be happy!"

You frowned at him. "Gojo!"

"Satoru!" He cheered with a big grin.

"Why aren't you at your booth?" You attempted to look over his shoulder at the long-abandoned booth, but Gojo pulled you closer.

"I got lonely. Nobody would sit with me." He leaned closer to look at both you and Shoko. "But that's fine because I got you two lovelies."

"Count me out." Shoko slipped out of her side of the boot and grabbed her drink. "I don't need a headache this early in the night."

You watched her helplessly. "Shoko."

"Take care." She half-heartedly waved before weaving around the bar to a different group.

You tried to follow her with your eyes, hoping she'd feel the heat of your stare, but Gojo wedged himself into the seat beside you clumsily with his arm still around your shoulders. He laughed boisterously and set his drink with the tiny umbrella on the table beside yours. Every move he made only jostled you.

"What's up!"

You frowned and tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let you. "Gojo..."

"Have I ever told you how pretty your eyes are?" He tilted his head down, correcting it when it started to roll.

"Yes." You looked away flustered. "Many times."

"It's cute when you play hard-to-get."

The alcohol burned your cheeks. "We're dating."

"You don't act like it." He absentmindedly blew air into your face.

"That's-" You were at a loss.

He wasn't wrong. The two of you started dating four months prior, after his constant and incessant flirting. Contrary to popular belief, you were the one to ask him out. It took small deliberation on his part before he agreed to be your boyfriend, only after you swore it didn't have to be serious. He didn't like serious. You accepted that.

So, the sudden personality flip this past month embarrassed you to no end. He was touchy and affectionate like no tomorrow. You struggled to keep up with this change. It happened out of nowhere. From casual dates and hookups to him being everything he agreed not to be. You worried you'd find a heart box of chocolates on your counter tomorrow morning for Christmas.

"What, you don't like me?" He pouted and leaned closer.

"I like you," you assured, placing your hand on his chest to keep him from falling onto you. "I'm just- you're drunk and you won't remember this tomorrow. So, I don't see why we should discuss it now."

"I'll remember." He pulled away to pout more. "I'm not going to forget what you said."

"Gojo." You sighed and started over. "Satoru-"

He hummed in content and fell into you, burying his face in your neck. "Yeah?"

"Why are you so...different?"

He slumped against your shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"You weren't like this a month ago." You tried to pull away to look at him, but he wrapped his arm around your side, keeping you locked in place. "You're really touchy."

"I'm your boyfriend," he answered breezily, if a little slurred. "I want to be a good boyfriend."

Your stomach twisted into a knot. "Satoru-"

"I love you," he muttered. He buried himself into your neck more. "Is that what you want to hear?"

Your heart dropped into your stomach. You lost your breath, trying to decide if what you heard was real. It was a mistake. He mumbled and you misheard.

"What?"

He nuzzled your neck. "I love you," he said with more clarity.

"Satoru." You managed to nudge him away so you could look at him properly. You pushed his shades up to his hairline and saw his eyes for the first time that night. Red-rimmed and shiny with unshed tears. You inhaled softly. "Satoru, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I love you." He turned you to him and held you by the shoulders. "That's enough, right?"

The look in his eyes told you he wasn't all there. As if he was looking right through you. You ignored the rest of the noise from the bar and focused on Satoru. Even if he weren't drunk, you would be worried. 

"Yes. Of course, that's enough." You nodded your head.

"You don't have to love me back," he said, pulling you into a hug as he buried his head in your shoulder. "It's okay. Don't leave."

"I won't." You returned the hug. Was this moving too fast? Were you ready for the next step in your relationship? Would he feel the same way in the morning? Would you? It didn’t matter."And I love you too."

He laughed breathlessly into your shirt. "Can I kiss you?"

"You don't have to ask."

He pulled away slightly to bring his mouth to yours. It was slow and hesitant, the way he hovered. In the long second he hesitated, you wondered what would come of this. He stared into your eyes for a long moment before he closed his eyes and relinquished himself to the kiss. You reciprocated with ease, relaxing your body and melting into him.

When he broke the kiss, he buried his face in your shoulder again. "I love you, Suguru."

Your heart stopped beating.

Satoru nuzzled you closer. "Don't leave this time."

You swallowed dryly.

He slumped against you. "I love you."

+

#gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #omg why isn't this post showing up in the tagssss

[literallyjusttoa]

First thing first I LOVE your art style. Second your Apollo design and headcanons are amazing. And third I would love to see some kind of colored reference sheet of Apollo, because I would love to make Fanart of your design!

Ok I made a re-made a lil reference thing I made about a year ago with color for you! + I'll add some notes I keep in mind while drawing Apollo in different forms bc I'm kind of inconsistent with my art lol

Pre-ToA Apollo: Covered in jewelry, bc he's fancy like that. No shoes, I used to draw him wearing sandals but it was actually rly important in antiquity that the gods didn't wear shoes as a sign of their divinity, so no more of that. At most he wears cool gold anklets. I also use his chiton as a bit of a mood ring. When Apollo's is having a great time, it's gold or has gold accents. When he's in stressful situations, it's got more orange and red.

Lester: Shift all colors a bit closer to red, just for cool symbolism-y reasons. I've done blue-eyed Lester before, but I'm ngl brown-eyed Lester still holds my heart. Also the most consistent part of my Lester design is the red hoodie, I will never let that thing go. Lester is a short king, and he always, ALWAYS has some pudge. (I feel kind of bad bc I always draw him in a baggy hoodie so you can't tell sometimes, but I swear I always keep it in mind) I usually show time going on in the trials by adding scars, making the hair longer, and making him a little bit bigger (callback to my hc that all of the physical things Apollo saw as "flaws" got worse in the 5th book, but bc Apollo has grown as a person he genuinely doesn't notice/care as much)

Post-Toa Apollo: Everything is a mix of the first two designs. Two eye colors, two hair colors, clothes that are modern while still referencing antiquity. He even wears sandals, right in between barefoot and sneakers. This design changes a lot, but that's bc I think Apollo is still rapidly changing after the end of ToA, and figuring out how to settle back into himself. The only consistency is that I’ve drawn him wearing crop tops alot? I honestly can’t tell you the reasoning behind that it just keeps happening. So yeah, really with this one, go wild!

#this is probably a bit overboard and more than you wanted #But I had a lot of design ideas I wanted to share bc designing Apollo stuff is so fun #trials of apollo #toa apollo #lester papadopoulos #apollart #sunny speaks #ask

[snowflakesincalifornia]

I couldn’t reblog the og post bc ig Tumblr’s ruined the code, so this is a copy of it. Please give credit to the og posters.

milf-percy

It dosen't really matter that Percy isn't hurt by Annabeth insulting him all the time and sometimes even being physically violent to him(he should be because that's a realistic response from an abuse and bullying survivor but i digress),not just because he's a fictional character and not a real person with free will,but also because that's Annabeth's way of showing she fucking hates him.Her treatment of him has literally not changed since they were 12 yet nobody in this dumbass fandom can shut up about how ~developed~ their relathionship is cause they make out now and are planning on having a dysfunctional cishet marriage while trashing the characters of color for being 'annoying'.

Percy and Annabeth are not 'made for eachother' because Rick wrote everyone in-universe as telling them that and i'd like to remind y'all that this is the same guy who wrote Luke,an adult serial abuser and ped0phile,as a 'hero' because of the Great Prophecy.Destiny means jack shit and Annabeth and Percy-ESPECIALLY Percy,who's been doomed to trauma over and over again despite his best efforts to escape it-should've been allowed to choose who to love instead of having it shoved down their throats by both everyone in their franchise and the creepy weirdos in the fandom too

@southasianpercy

chaoticcerise

Hi! As someone with ADHD who's been in several abusive relationships before, I figured I'd add something about why it IS actually realistic that he doesn't appear hurt, but that's actually even more alarming. So it starts with meeting them (obviously) and especially if they don't really have any healthy romantic IRL relationships to compare it to (which the books go out of their way to emphasize that this is the case) then it can be really hard to notice when red flags like that start to come up. "Oh it'll get better!" "They're still adjusting to it!" All of which are valid! There's healthy relationships that start rough and there's relationships that start really well and then something happens that doesn't go super well and it turns bad real quick. I've been in a few of both. The problem comes when it still happens after they're asked to stop, which is what happens in Percy Jackson. This can lead to things like "Oh they're just kidding, surely they don't mean it!" "Oh that's just how they flirt/show they love me!" Which, again, is fine IF IT'S WELCOME. However if it's not then eventually it's "Oh they're just like that." "Oh it's fine I guess, it's not like I can stop it." Just because someone doesn't complain doesn't mean that they're consenting. It means they're resigned to the abuse. And that means that he's internalizing and normalizing it. "We don't hear any real negativity towards Annabeth in Percy's thoughts though!!!" Well no but we don't hear any love either. We don't ever hear any thoughts about her really ever. Nothing about how pretty she is or how cool she is or anything. Percy Jackson has thoughts about EVERYONE. As someone with ADHD, this level of no thoughts is concerning and no basis for a relationship. He deserves someone who will treat him well. She deserves someone who thinks about her fondly. Both of them deserve better but they both need to undergo some character development and serious therapy first.

#anti percabeth #anti annabeth chase #anti rick riordan #rick riordan critical #Percy Jackson #Percy Jackson criticism #rr critical #rr crit #anti Percy Jackson #rr

[multifandoms27-blog]

Hey darling!!! <3, hope your day is good, well, i saw your Seto Kaiba dating hc's and i read the "He just gets even better when one day he comes home with a ring" snippet, AND I GET SO HYPED FOR WEDDING/HUSBAND SETO KAIBA HC'S, so can i request "married Seto Kaiba hc's"? if not its ok, but i will be so happy if you do it

just a moment to appreciate this handsome man's beaut-

Hello lovely! My day is going okay, I hope yours is as well <3

• ───────────────── •

Content: Seto Kaiba x GN!Reader

Warnings: Talk of children at the end (I made sure to separate that section from the rest of the headcanons incase people don't want to read that part)

Notes: I've started my second year of college and I already want to rip my hair out. I hope these headcanons are okay <3

• ───────────────── •

Seto doesn't want to trouble you with planning the wedding. He has professionals handling it.

However, obviously I feel you'd want a say in the color scheme and your own outfit at your wedding. Seto will absolutely let you make those decisions, he just figured you wouldn't want to bother yourself with the wedding plans. It would most likely be you doing all the work anyway, he has a company to run. (Wedding planning can take more than a year in some cases for those who don't know, and the more lavish and expensive it is, the longer the planning will be)

You two enjoy your engagement though. As much as Seto says he hates the press, he loves all the attention you two are getting from the Japanese media.

I think a lot of people thought Seto would never get married because of how snobby he is, and how focused he is on his company and a children's card game, so he can't wait to show up to every rich get-together with his arm around your shoulders, telling everyone you're his spouse.

Your wedding was in a lavish area off the coast of Japan. Mokuba was Seto's best man, while (Yugi friend/your own friend) was your best man/maid of honor. Your vows to each other were so sweet and loving, Jonouchi had to rub his eyes to make sure it was Kaiba you were marrying and not somebody else.

Because Seto is a famous man, your wedding was most likely televised.

The night was filled with laughter, congratulations to you and Seto, amazing food, jokes, and all around happiness. It was undoubtedly the best day of your life.

Your honeymoon was overseas though. Seto finally pried himself away from his work, and was looking forward to spending two uninterrupted weeks with you in Italy (or wherever else you choose)

Your honeymoon is filled with romantic gestures, long nights (hehe), and a whole lot of lovin'

When you come back home, Seto goes to work and you give Mokuba all the PG-13 details. How Seto treated you to nice dinners, how amazing the view was both in the day and night, and showed him pictures of you and Seto and your honeymoon

Surprisingly, Seto is the first one of you two to post your honeymoon pictures. They become flooded with supportive and loving comments, Jonouchi's comments never failing to make you laugh

Some days you'll let off Seto's staff early and make dinner for you two and Mokuba, or get takeout. Depends on how you're feeling that night

Seto appreciates it either way, and is just glad to get some time to spend with you and Mokuba at the end of his tiring work day

Sometimes you and Seto will have the same idea though, and you'll both get takeout by accident. The funniest is when you both show up to the same place and are like "What're you doing here??" "I could ask you that too"

Rarely does Seto cook, but damn is it fucking good. If he has a day off and decides to let his staff go home early, he'll cook for you and Mokuba

Seto lives to make your life easier. Need someone to manage your public account because the press can be too much to handle? He's going on a search for a suitable manager. Feel lonely by yourself at the mansion? He's asking Mokuba to surprise you with Yugi and co. (begrudgingly).

He's still going to be busy with work, but he'll make it up to you by bringing you on work trips whenever he can. He'll book nice hotels for the two of you, and always makes sure that he's all yours after five o'clock.

He confides all of his work troubles to you now, and if you thought he was stressing before when you were dating, it's now a whole new level. You're locked in with him for life, and Seto is about to spill all of his secrets to you. You suggest a therapist to help him regulate the stress, and he scoffs at the idea.

"Do you know how many people would put a price on the information I'm telling you? Yeah, no thanks."

So instead, you make ways to help him relax. You tell him about taking a bath with the whole nine - a relaxing bath bomb, candles, soft music...and he scoffs at the idea. So instead, you decide to trick him.

"Seto, there's something called an epsom salt bath that you can soak in, it helps you relax."

"Isn't that for sore muscles?"

"And weren't you complaining about how sore your shoulders are?"

You manage to get your husband in the warm bath, poured epsom salt in there, then sat carefully on the edge of the tub and massaged his shoulders. He relaxed enough to where began to close his eyes, and you slipped a blue bath bomb into the water. He was none the wiser about what you were doing until the bomb completely dissolved, you managed to light a candle or two, and he only opened his eyes when you began to play some soft music.

"What...?"

"Is this relaxing, Seto?"

"..." He won't admit it, but it really is.

• ───────────────── •

The next section talks about children, but no actual pregnancy! So if you don't like the topic, no worries! You can skip it <3

• ───────────────── •

Of course, with (some) marriages, comes the topic of children. In the Japanese dub of the anime, Seto tells Mokuba that he'll be his dad and look after them once they're in the orphanage (in the English its just big brother), which means you are now technically Mokuba's "adopted mother."

In the original manga, Mokuba was also in public school and had a lot of friends there, so I like to think that he sometimes goes between homeschooling and public school. If things become dangerous and Seto thinks Mokuba will be kidnapped again, he'll pull him out of school. But once things calm down, he'll allow Mokuba to go back to school. Which means, you and Seto are the best parents at the PTA meetings and after school events.

Of course, if Seto can't make it then you'll go for the both of you. Anything Mokuba has after school where he performs, you record it for Seto (and future memories).

Doing this for so long will make Seto think about what it would be like to actually have a child with you. I think he would want two, so they could have the same sibling bond that he and Mokuba have. And with how dangerous the world is, what if something happened to him or you or Mokuba?

He thinks about it for a while before finally bringing it up to you to see how you feel. If you're up for having a child with him, then he'll be ecstatic and jump right on it. If you biologically cannot be pregnant, then thats okay, adoption is absolutely on the table. Mokuba is excited to know that he's going to be an uncle.

#seto kaiba x reader #yugioh seto kaiba #seto kaiba #seto kaiba x y/n #seto kaiba x you #kaiba #kaiba x reader #seto kaiba headcanons #yugioh #yugioh duel monsters #ygo duel monsters

[midnightkolrath]

Dante and his deeper layers I've noticed in the 2007 anime

I originally meant for this to be a WAY bigger dig/analysis, as I want to go episode by episode...but I decided to minimize it for now because this anime gives me brainworms so often, lmao.

So, lets get into this light dig of added bits for Dante's character from the anime and just how neat the anime is on what it covers.

Early on in the anime, there's parts of the anime where Patty unknowingly berates Dante about having a picture of his "girlfriend" on his desk, not knowing its actually his mother. Same episode, she talks to Dante about her own mother, and how much she wishes to meet her, after being orphaned for unknown reasons (We learn why later but you know).

And BOTH times, Dante doesn't respond, save for a quiet distant stares off into space or seemingly ignoring her. For the first case, he very much likely excuses it with the fact that she's just not aware of the truth of the picture but not outright scolding her over it.

Like...he doesn't snap or correct her or anything. He just remains quiet. And we know how much Dante loved his mom (his color palette even matches hers for gods' sake) and how he got when facing Trish in DMC1 (which this takes place after). Shows just how those events really changed him afterwards. Especially since this is also after he thought he killed Vergil with his own hands...which the anime VERY MUCH shows the depression he has. He's in it deep for alot of it.

Back to the second part of the Patty thing though, as much as he pretends he isn't listening or doesn't care, he very much WAS listening to her, as later in that episode, he easily figures out where she went (into a trap where a demon disguised itself as her mother to lure her) due to the poster she was gazing at which reminded her of her mother, and the discussion they had right before she ran off.

Like, this man may be the way he is and PRETEND he isn't paying attention to people sometimes, but like...no, when its important, he VERY MUCH is. Speaking of which...episode 3.

This is one of the fun parallel episodes where the situation reflects a part of Dante's life...such as when a demon falls in love with a human, who was originally supposed to serve his master. Obviously, a parallel to Sparda and Eva's relationship, Dante's parents.

Even when its found out that the guy is the target dante's supposed to be after, Dante literally takes time to hear him out and question him over his love for a human woman. Dante's the result of such a relationship, so it makes sense he'd stop to listen.

In the end, he decides to go against killing this demon, despite what his client wanted. He sees firsthand and knows that this is actually a couple in love. Like...he gets it. For obvious reasons, but he also MADE SURE it was a true love relationship. Pretty wholesome actually.

An obvious one if you've seen the instruments and jukebox in his office, but episode 6 adds on that Dante 'gets' music and how it can touch/relate to people. I think its a cute additional touch. :' )

I wanna dig into this episode more eventually, but its obviously music themed. And Dante hangs out as a bodyguard for some fellow music enjoyers. Just one of those nice further looks on the general work Dante does, which this anime does a great job in doing.

Episode 7 onward is where shit gets deep into more parallels and just the kind of guy Dante is, while going through it this whole series. Helping a spirit get laid to rest by pulling a prison break and rescuing her brother (Episode 7)...

Having his status as the son of sparda ending up getting someone originally close to him (Supposedly anyway, its implied that Dante grew up with this guy and was raised by the same mother figure...which Dante denies, but we know how he can be, and he was likely trying to protect him in a way) hurt and said person thrusting hate on him for it as that was why a whole village got burned down...and the guy originally believed and had genuine faith that it wasn't Dante's fault (Episode 8)...

Meeting students (who are brothers, one older and one younger) of his father, arguably bonding with one of them and having to put both down in the end (Episode 10), which can be seen as a cruel parallel to himself and Vergil...(And even going through the effort of respectfully setting a grave site together for them)

And the final episodes, 11 and 12, are the conclusion of the whole arc that was built up in the background...but its also a show of Dante and Patty's relationship becoming so close as she goes to personally save him after he was impaled by the big bad. Its a pay off for the growing bits of them spending time together from episode 1, and later a neat easter egg nod in DMC5 where Patty calls to invite him to her birthday party, showing they still very much keep in touch. (And the novel Before the Nightmare goes more into why, exactly, he actually didn't want to go, but we'll dive more into that later one day).

I'll likely more deeply elaborate about the anime one day, but like...there's a reason why its such a gem in the series. Short, but did great with the episodes it had. A treat for those who want to see more layers for Dante. Its so SO good.

Like you may or may not like the 'slice of life' parts, but its necessary for what they were going for, I think. I know I skipped a few things, but I hope I got the big highlights atleast. Go check out the first anime, its a pretty damn solid ride.

#devil may cry #dmc #This was abit chunky so this gets a read more #but man I love the 2007 anime SO MUCH #One of the best things this series has tbh #I'm glad it exists #leo's DMC analysis

[a1307s]

Artwork #2

(Garfield Logan Smut)

[Art work is not mine! Credit to Exegaytioner]

Requested by: Liviejc

Keys:

Y/N: Your Name

Word Count: 6,063

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Sorry it took so long; it’s been a mix of the holiday and a bit of writers block

Pet Name Used (Bunny)

Biting

Slight degrading

Begging

———————————————————————

     It's been a couple of months since I walked in on Y/N painting her wall. Since then, I've been a little attached to her. We spend a lot of time together, whether that's me watching her work on different art projects, or Y/N watching her show as I game, or just sitting in each other's presence.

     Over this time, I've learned a bit about her, but not as much as I'd like. She's a 'freak accident', like I am; like most of the team is. Other than that, I don't know anything about her, but it seems there's not much to know. I will say that kind of explains her hatred for her shifting color schemes.

     The most recent activity we do together has been napping. Y/N always gets excited about her afternoon nap. She has issues sleeping alone which means her napping makes up most of her daily sleep. She used to nap with Nightwing but most days he'd be too busy for it, so she'd miss out. Y/N did end up asking me to nap with her instead. I answered yes, a little quicker than I meant.

     I won't admit it to anyone, but I've started growing feelings for her, which have only gotten worse over time. We used to just nap. Well, Y/N would nap, and I would lay next to her. Then we started making out before she'd nap. Now we make out before and after she naps.

     I enjoy it. I like her rubbing up on me and kissing me. I like the dark crimson color that coats her lips after we kiss. I like her. All that doesn't help my denial.

     Y/N on the other hand, I have no clue how she feels about it. You would figure with the whole 'hue of her skin matches her emotions' it would be easy to tell how Y/N feels. Well, when you don't know what the different colors and hues mean, it doesn't!

     It also doesn't help that the only thing I ever see her in is that dumb white cloak of hers. Given, her hood is never up anymore - unless we're on a mission. She's more loose about letting her arms show too, but with how big the sleeves are they tend to cover her more than they don't.

     When Y/N naps, she's usually curled up, so her ankles end up showing. Sometimes her cloak parts and shows a bit of her thighs. It makes me feel like a Victorian boy. 'Oh, her ankles! How sinful of me to look at such things!'

     I have asked Y/N a few times about our kisses. How she feels about them and such. Usually, she ignores me. The few times she has answered haven't been very nice. Her answer is usually something like 'You tolerate my naps, so I tolerate your kisses'. I don't want her to tolerate our makeouts. I want her to want them. I want her to want me.

     I have talked about our situation with Nightwing, and he usually helps. How he's explained it is that Y/N struggles with expressing emotions. Weird to think about since her powers are linked to her emotions, but not knowing much about her leaves a lot of room for speculation. However, seeing how she lives at the mountain like a lot of us, assumptions are easy to place.

     Like every afternoon, Y/N is curled up against me, fast asleep. Her back is pressed up against my side and her head is resting on my arm. My other arm is thrown across the bed, forgotten. Y/N won't sleep if she's not touching me in some way, but at the same time, she doesn't like being touched a lot. It makes for a weird balance. Too much touching and she can't stay asleep, too little touching and she also can't stay asleep.

     She's cute when she sleeps, and not angry which is always a plus. She gets angry pretty quickly, but I'm not that surprised. Y/N just happens to have the same hair-trigger temper that Conner does.

     The thought of glancing under her cloak flickers through my head. That would be perverted and wrong... but, she is sleeping in my bed so it couldn't be too bad... right? No. Nope. That's wrong.

     I shift away from her, putting a bit of space between the two of us as I shake the thoughts out of my head. If I want to see her coloring that bad, I can just ask. The worst she can say is no, right? Or... it could put us back to square one again. Put us back to barely talking and her walls shooting back up.

     Y/N whimpers a bit, turning over so her head is on my shoulder now, her arms - exposed - resting on my chest, and her front pressed up against me. I watch as her skin shifts from milky white to a soft pink. The color blotches over her arms and the exposed part of her chest that comes in contact with me.

     I'm not too surprised by this. Usually when Y/N wakes up the side of her face is this soft bubble gum pink color from where she was pressed into my arm. Even at this moment, her cheek is decorated in the coloring, though it's starting to fade back to white now that she has switched sides. I enjoy watching her colors shift, it's relaxing.

     Some of Y/N's coloring is obvious. The dark red, almost black means she's mad and is usually paired with matching tight curls. When her hair is short, fuzzy - and usually grey - it means she didn't sleep too well, which also means Y/N will have an even shorter temper than usual. Yellow - the bright one, not the washed-out one; I don't know what the washed-out coloring is yet - means she's happy. How bright it is shows how happy she is. Other than that, the rest of the coloring is still a mystery.

     I stay like this, watching the pink spotting get darker the longer she lays against me. I wonder what the pink means. To me, pink is the color of love. Maybe she does like me and just doesn't know it. However, I have seen her turn pink while working on her art and while reading and such. Those things can't exactly bring feelings of love... I don't think.

     Maybe I should get a feelings chart. That might help my situation. Especially since I'm not sure if every feeling has a different color or if it's more of an umbrella thing. I'm pretty sure it's an umbrella thing... maybe.

     Y/N shifts, pulling my attention back to her. Her head picks up, eyes open this time. They're milky white, like the rest of her, for a second. Soon they shift to her bright yellow with flickers of pink through them. God, what does the pink mean?

     "Good morning, Garfield," she says, dipping her head back to my shoulder as she shifts herself on top of me. I tense a bit as Y/N slides into my lap, her legs bent at my sides, her arms draping themselves over my shoulders and her chest pressed into mine. She sits like this all the time, after every nap, in the middle of every day. It shouldn't be any different today, but it does feel different. It's probably because I was deep-diving into my thoughts today.

     "How'd you sleep?" I ask, placing my hands on her thighs. What color are my handprints under her cloak? Are they pink? Yellow? Are her inner thighs littered with blotches from where they press into me? I want to know so bad. Y/N just hums in response, shifting her head onto my neck instead of my shoulder.

     Once again, she falls still, her soft breathing coating my neck and making my nerves spark. I think I just need something new for us. Something more than just our makeouts. Something to let me know Y/N enjoys this instead of seeing it as a chore.

     I slide my hands around some, my fingers curling around the edges of her cloak that has parted a bit from her position. My eyes stay locked on the ceiling as I tip my fingertips over the hem, barely coming in contact with her bare skin. It's silent for a beat, the warmth of her skin sliding up my fingers, but the silence doesn't stay long. "Don't do that," Y/N says, her fingers sliding down and wrapping around mine to pull my hand away. She lays it back in its usual spot, gently placed on top of her thigh, over her cloak.

     So much for something new, something to prove that she enjoys whatever the hell this is. Y/N's head tilts back up, her eyes now their ashy grey. Besides the angry red color, grey is the most used color on Y/N. Her eyes, skin, and hair, are all grey when we go on a mission. Unlike her sleepiness, when we're on a mission her hair is pin-straight and long. I don't know what the grey means. Maybe focus. What is she focusing on right now? Is focus even an emotion? I don't think so.

     Her head tilts some, eyes slowly melting back to the yellow and pink from before, her hair doing the same. I'll take that as a good sign. Happiness is always good, even if I don't know what it's paired with. Y/N's fingers are soft and airy as they slide up my neck, stroking my cheeks as she cups my face. She bends down, her lips sliding over my skin for a second before finding a new place to butterfly a kiss too. Maybe she does enjoy our kisses, why else would she be so gentle? So soft? Her lips trail over my face, leaving their warmth across my nose, my eyes, my forehead, my jaw, anywhere she can reach.

     My hands slide backward, jumping over her butt to slide around her back. I feel so loved, and so cared for when Y/N starts our kisses like this. If she doesn't feel anything for me, how could she make me feel this way? How could she push so much love out in these little touches if she doesn't care about me too?

     "Y/N?" I ask, my words coming out softer than I meant them to.

     "Garfield?" She whispers back, her lips sliding against the corner of my mouth, making my heart rate rise and blood rush down my body. It's annoying. This is annoying. I hate feeling so in love, so needy for her, just for nothing to ever happen outside of the few minutes before and after she sleeps. Outside of this, Y/N rarely lets me touch her, and the one time I tried to kiss her, I got a broken nose and a week of her being skittish. No naps during that week too which meant no kisses either.

     I gently slide my hands up Y/N's body, sliding them up her shoulder and cupping her face. I tilt her back, so her eyes are focused on me instead of her kisses. She looks so pretty, her back arched, her cloak opened some, showing me the top of her chest, the soft blue of her bra poking out a bit. This isn't helping my rushing blood or my thoughts. I can't touch her thighs, but I can see down her top? She's half awake, I doubt she knows this is what she looks like.

     I rub my fingers across her cheeks like Y/N has been doing to me. Soft streaks of pink are littered across her face, from where she's rubbed up against me. The paths of my thumbs are darker pink from the constant contact. Why do my fingers leave a pink spot, but her lips are red when we kiss? If I kiss other parts of her, will those turn pink? Or red?

     "Do you like our kisses?" I ask, trying to focus on her eyes but instead, my eyes keep dropping down her top and rising back up to her lips.

     Y/N shifts, her back going straight as she sits up, and her knees tightening around my sides. I'm a bit disappointed at the shift, the beautiful scene is gone now, but I can't complain much. The added pressure to my groin feels nice, teasing even. She shifts more, pressing into the half-hard situation in my pants for a second, her eyes wandering around the room. This is getting heated quicker than usual. All the build-up from the last few weeks looming over us, threatening to snap if Y/N keeps rubbing up on me like this. I place my hands on her hips, keeping her in place. Maybe not the best placement, but her being still is better than her adding friction.

     "I don't mind them," she answers, wiggling out of my hold and lying back down next to me.

     That pisses me off. Y/N is not dumb, she's a very smart girl, so she has to know touching me like this has some kind of effect. She has to know normal people don't nap and have heated make-out sessions with their friends. And what does she mean? She 'doesn't mind them'? What the hell Y/N?

     I look over at her, watching the pink on her skin fade back to white. Watching it helps me calm down a bit. It always relaxes me when I get to watch her shift. "Y/N?" I call again at a normal tone this time, as I slide my hand back to its place on her thigh. I massage it softly, debating if I should try to dip it down again.

     "Garfield?" Y/N answers again, her head turning towards me. Her eyes are starting to shift to red, the same crimson red her lips usually are by now. Is she mad at me for touching her? She sounds pretty calm compared to how she usually is when she's mad. Maybe she isn't mad.

     "Do you not like me kissing you?" I ask, giving into my want and dipping my fingertips down, toying with Y/N's inner thighs.

     "I don't... not like it," she answers, turning her head away from me. I watch, waiting for a reaction, but I don't get one.

     "So... you do like them?" I push, sliding closer to her. I'm leaning over Y/N's face, hovering barely over her, and slide my fingers down slightly lower, the hem of her cloak coming into contact with my fingers again.

     Y/N's eyes are wide, mostly grey with flickers of red throughout them, her skin doing the same. Her body is a bit stiff, and her chest jumps faster than normal. Is she nervous or scared? Maybe both? "Umm... I guess so," she answers, her legs closing and squeezing my hand between them.

     She guesses so? She doesn't know? The anger from earlier bubbles up again. I want Y/N to know she wants me, I want her to be as needy for me as I am for her, I want her to voice her thoughts and feelings about me.

     "Y/N?" My voice rings out, my fingers curling around her cloak again. I just need something, anything from her to let me know she feels somewhat good about this, about our kisses, about whatever relationship we have. I move her cloak, moving the fabric up her legs so her inner thighs are exposed to me.

     "Garfield," she breathes out, her skin and eyes redder than grey as I slide over her warm skin, her cloak now covering both my hand and her thigh. Her skin is smooth, soft, and hopefully colorful. I like Y/N's voice like this, I want to hear her say my name like that again.

     My name ringing in my ears makes my pants tighter, the half-hard-on is now a full-blown-hard-on. "I want to see your coloring," I tell her, gently parting her legs some so I can move my hand easier. The small circles I've been pushing into her skin have left a red ring on her skin. Is that good or bad? Is Y/N enjoying this or not?

     "You... what?" She asks, her voice still light, her head tilted down some so our eyes are connected. Y/N's eyes are fully red now, and her mouth is slightly parted. Is she horny? Is that what's happening? I mean, she looks horny. Picked up breathing, wide eyes, parted lips.

     My head falls to the side as I lean down, connecting our lips as my eyes snap shut. Y/N's lips feel soft and plump against my own. She tastes like honey, a leftover flavor from her tea this morning. It's not long before her mouth falls open, giving me access before I even have the chance to ask for it.

     I let my hand continue to squeeze the flesh of her thigh, bringing my other one up to do the same thing. My tongue slides over Y/N's, the feeling only causing more of my nerves to go haywire. Her hands are stiff but gentle as they cling to my biceps, her fingers shaking against my skin.

     "Why are you so nervous?" I ask once we pull apart, Y/N panting some under me. "I just want to see your coloring," I add, slowly pulling her legs further apart, her cloak falling open and pooling at her hips. Crimson red colors are littered across her skin, dark purples swirling with the color from where my fingers have crossed over her skin, the rest of her still grey. Matching soft blue panties stand out against her ashy color of her. Little Miss Matching, how cute.

     "I'm... I just..." Y/N stumbles, her panting slowed some but still present. I inch my fingers up, letting a finger on each side slide across the bands of her underwear clinging to her legs. This gets me a shift of her legs, but they fall back into place, wide open for me to admire.

     "You have to use your words. I'm tired of trying to read your mind," I murmur, scooting down the bed so I can dip my head between her legs. Y/N's hands slide up to my shoulders from my movement and soon knot themselves into the hair on my neck. Once again, her legs fall close, tapping against me before falling open again. "Why are you nervous?" I whisper against her skin, sliding my lips over her inner thigh. Like my fingerprints, an outline of my lips forms a dark red with blotches of purple through it. I continue pressing kisses into her left thigh, leaving new outlines in my wake.

     "I... you're.... you're touching me," Y/N answers, her legs tapping against the side of my face again. It's cute, how nervous she is about me seeing her like this, how her legs fall open when she's reminded of my placement.

     "So? I touch you all the time," I comment, switching to her right thigh. I let my eyes flicker up, taking in Y/N as I leave a long lick from mid-thigh to the dip of her hip meeting her legs. A hissed breath comes from her, a red streak forming as I watch. Y/N's back is arched the slightest, her knees repeatedly bumping into me before falling open again, her body shaking a bit, hands buried into my head. I think this is prettier than the scene I got to see earlier.

     I pull back from her, kneeling in front of her bent legs so only my hands are in contact with her now. This lets her knees bump into each other when they go too close again. Y/N whimpers at this, her fingers sliding down to my face as I sit up. "Aww, is someone whiney?" I tease, inching my hands up her stomach, letting them slide under her clothing. "Why are you whiney? What do you want Bunny?"

     "I... I don't... I don't know," Y/N stumbles out, her body scooting down to move my hands up further. Her hands have moved back down to my shoulders, her nails digging into them. Her eyes are blown out, dark purple with spots of red, and watery as she looks at me. I've barely even touched her, and she's already overwhelmed. Y/N is going to need a long cool down after this.

     I mess with the bend of her bra, snapping it against her, running my fingers under it, inching up just a bit before dropping them back down. My eyes jump around her, her skin turning the same purple as her eyes, washing away all the grey. The previous prints on her thighs are now crimson red instead of their previous purple, making them stand out against the cooler color. "I think you do know," I answer back, completely pulling my hands down and planting them on her hips.

     Y/N whines again, thrusting her body down to attempt to move my hands further up her body. It doesn't work though; I keep them firmly in place as her legs bump into mine from her movement. "Please?" She whimpers, an involuntary pout forming on her face.

     "Please what? What do you want Bunny?" I repeat as the idea of Y/N dressed up in bunny ears and a puffy bunny tail serves as a nice reminder of my hard penis, which pulses at the thought. I just need to hold on a little longer, long enough to get Y/N to beg, long enough to get her prepped, and then I can have my pleasure. "If you don't tell me what you want, I'll leave you here to deal with this all by yourself," I threaten, rubbing soft circles into her hip bones to try and encourage her words out.

     "Touch me, please?" She begs, the words coming out desperate as her legs fall open again, filling my eyes with the sight of her panties. They're slightly wet now, a small spot forming as her juices seep out of her, only encouraging my actions more. She likes the teasing, she likes me forcing her words out, it's turning her on. Is that what the crimson red is? Or maybe that's what the purple is.

     "Touch you where, Bun? Here?" I tease, ghosting my fingers over the little mess Y/N is already forming. Her legs jerk from the touch, bumping into my arm before falling back into place. "Or here?" I ask, pressing soft circles into her clothes clit. Bump, bump, bump. Y/N's legs jerk again with every circle I push into her nerve bundle, squeezing my arm each time she comes into contact with it.

     "Garfield," she breathes out as she did earlier, another pulse from my dick and my breath hiccupping from it. I don't like how easily she cracks my swallow confidence. I am not a dominating partner by any means, but Y/N is even less a dominating person in bed so if I don't hold on to this tiny shaving of confidence, we'll be back to me panning over her with no retaliation.

     "Take it off," I bark out a lot meaner than I meant to. I clench her cloak in my hands, tugging it softly. "Please, Bun," I add, softening my tone in hopes of not scaring her off. I can't scare Y/N, I can't get this close to having her just to shove her back into her shell from being too rough, too mean.

     Slowly, Y/N's hands fall from my shoulders to the cute little white bow that keeps the cloth tightened to her body. Her fingers are shaking like crazy as she works on undoing it. Her eyes are still watery and so fucking hot as I look at her. I want to see her crying under me, I want to see her whole shaking because of me.

     "You're doing so good," I tell her once the bow is undone and her clothing falls to the side, exposing the skin of her torso, of her chest. Streaks of a mixed grey and red outline where my hands previously rubbed against. "So, so good, Bunny," I whisper against the skin of her neck, pushing soft kisses into it as I work on tugging her clothes the rest of the way off.

     Y/N curls around me as I'm bent over her. Her hands wrap around my shoulders, pushing our chests together, her legs wrapped around my hips and crossed on my back. Soft whimpers fill my ear as I push more sloppy kisses into her, now trailing them down her shoulders. It's so pretty, seeing the smooth white sliding off of Y/N, watching it pool behind her as small groups of colors form under my touches.

     I bite down gently into her shoulder, getting a soft cry of pain, and nails dig back into my shoulders, but I don't mind. I need to leave behind some marking, some proof of ownership, something to show that Y/N is mine for everyone to see, even if I know my eyes will be the only ones to ever see it. "Garfield, that hurts," Y/N whines, tugging on me gently to try and remove me from her.

     "I'm sorry," I murmur, littering kisses across her jaw before placing a soft one against her lips. Her tears have spilled over slightly, her cheeks damp as I pull back and look at her. "I want to be inside you so bad. Do you want me inside you?" I ask her, rubbing my thumb across her bottom lip as I look over her face. I do want to be in her, I want to be in her so badly, but I know she's overwhelmed. Y/N is shaking against me, and her tears aren't just from the bite mark, so I need to make sure she's okay with this, that she's not going to hate me if we do have sex, that she'll be okay after we have sex.

     Y/N's head nods a short yes, but that's not enough for me. I need to hear her yes; I need to hear that she wants me. I press another soft kiss to her lips, dropping my hands back down to the band of her bra. "I need you to use your words, Bun."

     "Please?" She whimpers, sliding herself against me. The sudden friction of her pussy against my ignored penis pulls a low moan out of me, getting me another soft hump and another whine from Y/N.

     "Please what?" I push, hooking my hands to her hips. I use this leverage to shove Y/N down hard onto me, to pick up the pace of her soaked panties rubbing against the front of my pants. I continue this, using my hand placement to hump myself as whimpers and whines spill from her, but not an answer. "I swear to God Y/N. Tell me what you want, or I'll jack myself off onto your pretty titties and leave you here whining like a desperate little Bunny that can't get herself off."

     Worry flickers through my head for a second but is quickly squashed when a moan tumbles out of Y/N's lips. "Please... I want you. Please? Pretty please Gar?" 

     That's enough confirmation for me to continue moving forward. I drop my hold on her long enough to shove my pants down and pull myself out. It's a struggle, getting myself out of my pants and boxers. Random body parts from the both of us bump together as I wiggle out of my clothes.

     Once I'm freed, I slide back between Y/N's legs, the head of my penis gently tapping against the soaked spot of her underwear. Her hands are back in place, tugging on my shirt that's covering my shoulders. "Needy, needy Bunny," I tease softly, leaning down to kiss Y/N's cheek before pulling my shirt off. 

     "Please?" She begs again, grinding her hips down against me. 

     I grab at her, having a tight hold on her hips again to stop her. "Don't do that," I warn, lifting her hips off mine. There's too much tension and if she keeps pushing, I'm not going to last long enough to fuck her. "I want to play with you first," I add, sliding my fingers down and letting them snag on her underwear.

     As I start pulling them down, Y/N grabs my wrist, pulling my attention to her face. Her skin is tinted in grey, only adding to the pretty mixes of red and purple. "Just... be gentle," she says, worry flooding her eyes and washing all the color out of it. Grey is fear. When Y/N is grey, she's feeling fearful.

     "I'll be gentle," I tell her, leaning up and placing a few soft kisses across her face before landing one on her lips. I continue this, littering her face in kisses, as I pull her panties off her legs. Grey is still present in Y/N's eyes, but the purple and red have started spilling back in. "You're so pretty," I whisper, moving forward so our hips are connected again. 

     Y/N's legs are back at my sides, squeezing me as my fingers dance around her folds, touching her but not touching where I know she aches. Her nails are sharp and a bit painful as they dig and release themselves from the skin of my shoulders. She is pretty, really pretty. Big watery doe eyes, body covered in explosions of colors, small noises spilling out as I tease, her clinging to me like she'll fall apart if she doesn't. I would be thrilled to spend the rest of my life looking at her like this.

     I slide my lips over hers, a distraction, something to calm her as I dip a finger into her. Y/N's fingers jolt again, digging into me as I pump my finger, helping her stretch out. "You're doing so good, Bunny," I whisper into her ear, dipping another finger in before curling inside her. I let my focus shift down, gazing at the sight of me disappearing into her.

     "Garfield," Y/N moans, pulling herself tighter against me.

     "Bunny," I tease, continuing to pump and curl against the walls of her pussy. Her body responds to the stimulation, tightening around me, her chest pumping to get more air into her lungs, and noises and whines for me spilling out. "You're doing really good," I repeat, pressing kisses anywhere I can reach. I debate whether to continue until she finishes or not. I don't want her to be overwhelmed, I don't want Y/N to stop enjoying this.

     I decide not to let her finish, not quite yet. I start pulling my fingers out, getting a distorted reaction from Y/N. "No! No, no, no," she whines, her hands sliding down my arms to try and stop me. 

     I turn my focus back to her face, taking in how beautiful she looks. Y/N's eyes are still doe-like, not a thought behind them besides me. Tears have spilled over again, making her cheeks all dewy and almost sparkly from the lights above us. Her chest has slowed down a bit, but it still looks full, pretty, soft. "God, you are pretty. You are beautiful, Y/N. You are gorgeous," I tell her, shifting myself around again.

     Heat rolls off of Y/N as I line myself up to her, tapping the head of my penis against her again, but with nothing in the way this time I'm able to poke just barely inside her. I tug her hands off my shoulders, lacing our fingers together as I gently press her hands against the bed. I want her to know she's able to let go, to call this off, to push me away if she needs to. "Y/N?" My voice rings out, a difference from the whimpers and whines that have been filling my ears.

     "Ya?" She answers, slinging her legs around me and attempting to pull me further into her.

     I give into her want, moving slowly, feeling just an inch of me sliding inside. "Are you sure you want this? We can stop," I tell her, hoping my own noises stay stuck in my throat.

     "Please? Pretty please? I want - I need more. Please Gar?" Y/N begs again, her fingers and legs tightening around me, trying to get more of me inside her.

     How can I say no to that? I pretty girl underneath me, begging me to fuck her. What sane person says no to that? Not me. I give again, letting the rest of me sink inside of her. Y/N is warm wrapped around me. Warm and loving. Perfect. 

     "You are so pretty. You are smart. You're gorgeous. You're so sweet. You are perfect. You know that? You are perfect, Bunny," I tell her, spilling out a new compliment after every thrust. A broken thank you falls from Y/N's lips after every one of my compliments, a moan or my name breaking up her words.

     This is perfect. She is perfect. Y/N likes me back, likes me enough to fuck her. Likes me enough to beg for me, to need me. My hands tighten around hers as I continue to thrust into her as I dip my head down. I clamp my teeth on her shoulder a couple more times, making sure to be gentle as I do so. Little whimpers fall from her at this action which only makes my thrusts sloppier.  

     The sloppier my thrusts get, the more upset I get. I don't want this to end, and I really don't want it to end this soon. I knew I wasn't going to last long from the start, all the teasing today and during the whole week made sure of that. "Bunny," I murmur, sliding my tongue over Y/N's neck before I continue. "I'm not going to last much longer."

     "No, you have to keep going. Please?" She whines from under me, her hold on me as she complains.

     "I can't, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Bun," I mutter against her skin, covering her raw skin in kisses. She squirms from my lips brushing against the forming bite marks. It's cute, but doesn't help my rushing high that's closing in. "We'll go again, I promise, I just... I can't," I add on, sliding more kisses over her markings, making her squirm around more.

     Another whine comes but is chased by Y/N pressing her own kisses into me. She leaves kisses wherever she can reach, my arms, my chest, my shoulders, everywhere.

     "Fuck," I mutter, sliding out of her as the band in my stomach slightly tighter than I want. As I pull out, my cum spills out onto Y/N's thighs. It leaves a pretty scene for me to enjoy. My cum covering her thighs in a pretty white, it stands out against the dark purple of her skin and the crimson red from where I was placed between them.

     Damn, all of her looks pretty, looks hot. Once again Y/N's chest is heaven for breath, a slight dew of sweat coating her body. Her skin is a pretty mix of reds and purples, every place I've touched her being empathized by the red and the rest of her being that pretty purple color. The bite marks I left littered across her shoulders - all five of them - a softer red, and slightly bruising. 

     "I'm sorry," I repeat, letting myself slump on top of her. Our hands are still intertwined as I let my body weight crush her a bit, my head buried into her neck. My dick is sensitive, but I push myself back into Y/N anyway, putting her whimpers of dissatisfaction on a slower setting. "I promise we'll go in again in a few minutes, okay?"

     "Okay," Y/N responds, her breathing slowing a bit. Her fingers slide gently against mine, helping me calm down from my high.

     I let my eyes focus on the coloring of her neck, the colors slowly dulling down before settling back to her peaceful white color. The soft pink returns again in all the places I'm touching her. I change my mind; this is the scene I'd be happy to watch for the rest of my life. Her skin shifting colors, me tangled up against her warm skin, Y/N's soft touches against me as I relax. God, I love watching Y/N's coloring, and I can't wait to make the colors shift again.

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#young justice #young justice oneshot #beast boy #beast boy oneshot #garfield logan #garfield logan one shot #beast boy smut #young justice smut #beast boy x reader #garfield logan x reader #garfield logan smut

[kasumikoujou]

im super interested in knowing how u get such vibrant colors & draw ur faces,,,, also ur art is super cute and awesome !! :3

-🎀

thank you, and i'll try my best to answer this but !! i dont think i'll be much help in trying to explain either of those 😭

for colors i actually pick them manually (insanity); though i draw fanart most of the time and have refs in hand, i pick out colors close to the originals, then simply match them to a tone i want for the picture (if this makes sense; i often use color palettes too to see how i can match them. if there is an odd color that wouldnt match, what i do is i also simply pick a brush on half or lower opacity and place the general color of reference over; for ex below: asuka's hair was a bit too bright and unfitting, so i picked the pure violet shade the lineart had as well and applied it over on 30?40?50% opacity)

for picking colors, theres tons of color palettes online to pick from, but there's also tons of artists with colorful styles like these i like to look for for examples (my best picks are rourow (one of muse dash's artists), onono imouko* (dohna dohna's lead artist; @ _himehajime on twitter), mochizuki kei (@ key999 on twitter), ohisashiburi* (some of the more colorful works of theirs at least. the colors in majority of theirs even if more dark in tone are still super pretty and you can work around with them too; needy girl overdose's lead artist, @ imlllsn on twitter)

*beware nsfw content. onono has no nsfw in his own media tab but rts it; dd is an eroge ; ohisashiburi may have art with sensitive topics, and nsfw or thinly veiled nsfw in both media tab and rts.

—

for faces i still struggle with them actually ! 😭 not that i cannot draw faces, moreso sometimes struggle to draw them as i want. for piece above i feel like i got it exactly as i'd want to always do them (i.e for years on end i've always wanted to draw eyes larger than i usually tend to do); but most of the time especially on eyes i try to match the face closer to reference even if it goes a bit overboard with the style, and then try to make it match more either by line weight or etc. (i also tend to exaggerate expressions at times because i personally think it either better shows them off or it looks cute) (probably best example below because its a redraw of a figure)

i hope the ... not extensive ramble was helpful in any way. good luck with your art journey!!!!

#the sumi rambles

[brother-emperors]

hiii so. i really really admire you because of the depth of research you put into your art (even as someone who tends to fall down deep research holes i'm in Awe) but also because of the art itself - and i wanted to ask if you had any recommendations for someone who wants to get better at drawing? (books to read, things to do?) especially for figure drawing as you have (to my untrained eye) one of the best balances of style realism and naturalness and in general just overall make some of the best art i've ever seen methinks

this is really high praise, thank you so much!

as for art advice and recommendations for getting better at drawing, I 100% believe in carrying around a sketchbook wherever you go. if the pressure of having nice pages is something that bothers you, get a stack of sticky notes because you can cover up mistakes and re draw over it immediately, and squares of color will add some fun to a page later when you flip through everything.

ideally, I think there's a balance to skill building and having a good time, and I tend to split my own sketchbooks between life drawing (frequently I'll draw windows I think look neat or my morning coffee) and doodling shit for fun. I try out a lot of different styles and draw a lot of nonsense just because it felt like a good time. I do a lot of edward gorey type stuff because the line work process is comfy.

one way to go about doing this is to pick a direction (so to speak) that seems interesting, and build along side it! when I first decided I wanted to take art more seriously, I started looking up pictures of renaissance statues and drawing those. trying to draw those. it took a long time to get my art to look anything like a bernini statue, but I had a lot of fun learning that I really enjoyed drawing hands! comics are another good one, naoki urasawa's work is fucking genius level to me, I regularly revisit monster and do studies off of literally everything he does.

(I also keep a separate sketchbook for figure studies. this is mostly because I really enjoy drawing the human figure, this is very relaxing for me personally: I rotate between doing gesture drawings, contour drawings, and longer anatomy studies)

finally, I have found reading books on art history to be critical in my own process. so much about art history will tell you how to convey a million words into a singular composition. idk how much of that will be of interest or help to you, but I personally found it helpful, especially in understanding how to read things visually, which in turn helped me figure out how I wanted to tackle drawing something

and! two books I've found invaluable for anatomy were george bridgman's constructive anatomy and michael d. mattesi's force: drawing human anatomy, although I might recommend morpho's books above them now, like oh my god morpho is so good.

OH the other thing. this is something I picked up from when I was taking an animation class in art school, but sometimes I'll put on a movie or show I really like and do thumbnail studies of the frames while I watch. there's a lot to learn in a frame! shapes are important. god I love shapes.

#ask tag #thank you again! i hope some of this was helpful!!

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no body, no crime

summary inspired by no body, no crime by taylor swift

pairing lando norris x este , ??? (reader) x revenge

warnings cheating, death and murder

a/n i hope this is good omg i'm kinda scared hahaahah. anyway live laugh love taylor swift.

Este's a friend of mine, We meet up every Tuesday night for dinner and a glass of wine

"Sorry I'm late, traffic." celeste huff and sits across from her friend. The wine has been waiting in it's corked bottle, but her exact salad order was already placed at her side of the table. "No worries, baby-love" her best friend smiles at her as the young waiter walks over and pops the wine's cork

This was their weekly thing, always has been since they were in high school. Hard to believe that the two girls that were sat at this table talking about things like marriage, taxes and alcohol were once two younger girls gossiping about boys, weekend sports games, and hair color. That's just how things change sometime. But the older of the two hated changed. Always has. Always will.

That's why they kept this Tuesday tradition even through college. They always had dinner together, same restaurant, same table, same wine, same orders. No changes. Just the way they liked it, loved it.

"How's Lando?" The older woman asked her friend before sipping her wine. An unpleasant taste makes its way through her mouth, replacing the usually enjoyable red wine once she saw celeste's face change into a saddened and depressed expression.

"Well, he's great. I just, I've noticed some things recently..."

She says, "That ain't my Merlot on his mouth That ain't my jewelry on our joint account"

"It's just... I drink the same wine he does,"

"Merlot," her friend nods, earning a nod back. Lando had money, coming from a rich background and growing up in an even richer future as a Formula 1 driver. He drives on circuits everywhere around the world, from america to italy to tokyo. so it's safe to say he knew their wines. Celeste was the same, growing up in a just as wealthy family, she's enjoyed her moms expensive wines since she was in high school, which was odd amongst the crowd of teenagers that were drinking spirits and beers.

"Yeah, and the merlot we drink, it doesn't leave that red stain on his lips." She lets out a small sigh before pushing further into her point, "And I only wear silver jewelry, always have, but I went through our bank accounts for bills and I saw gold jewelry being bought on his account."

Maybe she's exaggerating, but the more she's looked back on the past few months, things start making sense. Less time together, less sex, quieter 'I love you's. She wondered if he was bored, she tried her best to keep their relationship exciting in many different ways. But nothing has changed.

The older friend wanted so badly to go online and expose him, call him out on his bullshit that Este has been crying about for the past few months. She wanted to end his little fanbase, maybe even his career. But there wasn't enough proof, she needed proof.

No body, no crime.

"I think he did it, but... I just can't prove it"

The next Tuesday cam by and she hadn't heard from Celeste at all that day, nonetheless, she still showed up to their usual restaurant. But after about an hour she made a call to their other friend, Inez, she works with Celeste, they've all been fairly close since school. Though Inez isn't the most trustworthy source, she knows she would get an honest answer as to where Celeste was. "I haven't seen her, I thought she was sick but our boss said she hasn't even called in sick. We figured she just got too sick to call this morning."

But that's not like Celeste. Her best friend had seen her call into their high school to let them know she wasn't making it even when she had food poisoning. She knows that's not the case. She left the restaurant, making her way to the Norris household. "I haven't seen her either, I tried filing a report but they said I have to wait 24 hours." He seemed panicked, like he had been crying and screaming all day long. His voice was practically gone and his hands were shaking more than a small dog stuck in the winter snow.

Hе reports his missing wife. And I noticed when I passed his house his truck has got some brand new tires.

The tires was one thing, maybe he genuinely needed tires. His face is all over the news along with Celeste's talking about his missing wife, but they don't bother to mention his new side pieces that just moved in...

"his mistress moved in, sleeps in Este's bed and everything!" Inez's nosy ass came in hand from time to time. She saw the move in truck when she was making her way to work one day. At first she thought it was Lando that was moving out, turns out the mistress that their dear friend had been worrying about weeks before had moved in.

"I think he did it, I just can't prove it."

"No body, no crime." Inez shrugged, not thinking much of her friends statement, surely Norris wasn't up to anything? He loved Este. Right?

As time went on, it was obvious. He did it. Even the police think so, but rich people always get their way don't they? She starts coming up with a plan. Vengeance. It ran through her bloodstream, it felt like a burning sensation.

"Good thing my daddy made me get a boating license when I was fifteen." Everything was going according to plan, it was perfect.

"Hey, Lando." She gave him a smile. It had been four months since Celeste was presumed dead, the investigation went silent a while ago and the whole town gave up hope of finding her. Her name is no longer a trending topic, but her voice and face are still gone.

The racing driver looked at his dead wife's friend with shock but nervousness. He tries to cover it with a mask of sadness, but she knew better than to fall for a man's lies. She was invited in, seeing no trace on her friend anywhere in the mansion that Celeste had called home.

"What are you doing here?" He asked once the door closed and locked behind him. He knew something was up, he was smart but not much of a genius, clearly. "Just catching up Norris," She smiled at the taller individual, "I see you and the new girl are getting along just fine. That didn't take long?"

"It's been a year."

"Took you barely 10 months to move her in." She states back. "I wanna show you something."

The drive to the docks was a good 10 minutes, Monaco is a great place to live when you want to buy a fancy new yacht. Her dad's yacht was nothing compared to Lando's driving competitor, but it was still very impressive. "Your dad's yacht?"

The amount of parties that were thrown around and on the yacht were crazy, it's how him and Este met in the first place. He thought it was a sweet gesture from the girl, though she saw the look on his face the entire time they were on the water. He looked sea sick, but she knows the driver had been on plenty of yacht's in his life, he's not sea sick.

He was quick to realize what was happening when they stopped in the middle of the nowhere on the deep waters. He knew, he came to terms with it, but he was so sure they would catch her, unlike they did him. His name is bigger, his house, his cars, his bank account, they're all bigger. But her? She's simply just... better.

"I've cleaned enough houses to know how to cover up a scene." Was the last thing he would hear that night. They next morning she would let her father know that the boat is cleaned, smells of fresh lemons and other citrus like aroma's. "Thank you sweetheart, glad to know you still have time to clean that ole' thing between your classes," He handed her some wadded up cash. The monthly occurrence of cleaning for her parents, everything from their yard to the yacht, they are just far too old to do it themselves.

News stations, media outlets, and other headlining articles went crazy after the mistress filed a missing persons report. Lando Norris missing nearly a full year after his wife's disappearance.

"Formula 1 McLaren driver, Lando Norris, was reported missing last night after not coming home from a boating trip with some friends. Officials have yet to give anymore details."

Good things Este's sisters gonna swear she was with me.

"She was with me, dude, I told you this. We all went out on the yacht, he got too drunk so we sent him home." Alana swore up and down her truth, another cover up that will never slip her teeth. Her parents always said she would be a good actor, she got away with everything as a kid. Este used to hate it.

"To his wife?"

"They're married? I don't know, man, I guess. She seemed pretty pissed if you ask me."

Good thing his mistress took out a big life insurance policy

She was cleared, no proof, no evidence. they checked the camera's, Alana and her sisters friend helping each other drag Lando's drunken body back in the truck. The yacht was clean, "I clean it at this time every month for my parents, they're getting too old to scrub it down like they used to, ya know?" The maid and her parents vouched for her, it's true, the end every month when it wasn't too cold or hot, she was at the docs. The other boat owners even agreed.

"They think she did it, but they just can't prove it." The news reporter stated as a picture of the now widowed mistress was shown on the screen. The television shuts off as a smirk is splattered on their faces.

"She thinks I did it." She smiles at the younger, chuckling in disbelief as if she was crazy for thinking just a thing. "She just can't prove it. But, like we've always said, No body." She raises up her wine glass.

Celeste copies the gesture with a venomous smile, "No crime."

taglist: @enhacolor @bibissparkles @blueanfield

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