#there are definitely some shelves doing their own thing though
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stealing stuff from the brothers' closets
mc's gender is not mentioned, not proof read
content warnings: none
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Lucifer
imagine opening his gigantic closet and all there is are 3 shirts, 2 pairs of pants, 3 blazers or whatever, a whole box full of gloves, another whole box full of socks, 2 pairs of shoes and one scarf (the cheapest item is 200 grimm too)
anyways he allows you to steal some of his stuff as long as you do not let his brothers see you with it at any cost
lucifer thinks you look adorable wrapped up in his 800 grimm scarf but he'd never tell you (you can tell)
Mammon
mammon doesn't mind you stealing stuff from him, he even tries to get you to take his stuff
he's like 'look mc I got this cool hat' and then places it on your head and when you try to give it back he refuses to accept it
mammon does have a good wide range of clothes and accessories you can steal unlike lucifer
and everything he owns is either from a devildom designer brand or the devildom version of walmart
Leviathan
he almost passes away
not that he minds you wearing his stuff (he actually thinks it's cute, even if it's his limited edition expensive tsl stuff) but he was not ready for the jumpscare of actually seeing you with his things
eventually he gets used to it though and his closet becomes free rein for you and only you
sometimes when he's shopping for new clothes on akuzon he's debating on whether or not to buy the same shirt for you too
Satan
first of all opening his closet is a whole risk because nobody can guarantee you won't expose yourself to the worst sweaters known to man
also like his room, his closet is a mess too
and sometimes when you steal something from him, satan can't even tell you got it from his closet because it's such a mess in there and he wears just the same 3 shirts anyways
but he doesn't mind you taking his stuff as long as you don't damage anything (he won't get mad at you if you do though)
Asmodeus
you are free to steal anything from him, and he is free to steal anything from you
asmo loves it when he sees you wearing something of his
but do not damage anything or it will upset him (asmo can be scary when he's mad but he forgives you after 4 seconds so don't worry)
at some point he gets a whole shelf for his closet and he uses it to store clothes he bought for you, so you can find them next time you burrow something
it's literally labeled 'the mc shelf'
Beelzebub
the least ancient thing in his closet was bought 5 years ago
but if you want to steal his stuff, he'd definitely let you, he thinks it makes you two get closer to each other
beel would even let you keep anything you'd pick if you really love it
sometimes he even just leaves the item in your room
some stuff in his closet is originally owned by belphie because these twins share everything
Belphegor
half of his stuff consists of soft gowns and other sleep-related stuff, and he wears almost 0 of them, they're just sitting there in his closet
and he absolutely loves it when you steal his fluffy things because it looks cute and he can cuddle up to you and sleep
belphie lets you keep anything he never or rarely wore
if you frequently check his closet out, belphie will sometimes burrow something from beel and put it on one of his shelves to see if you notice (belphie also buys clothes once per blue moon)
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me scenarios#obey me swd#obey me imagines#obey me mammon#obey me lucifer#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#asmodeus obey me#beelzebub obey me#belphegor obey me#obey me x reader#obey me x mc#gn!mc
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Scenarios of Ace and Deuce being your bffs who both have a crush on you
a/n: forgot to post,my bad!
tags: mentions of reader wearing a skirt in the 3rd section; lmk if I missed anything.
synopsis: Daily scenarios of Ace and Deuce being your bffs and them both having a crush on you
when you, Ace, Deuce and Grim get punished and tasked to clean the animal enclosure; specifically the hedgehogs, the first 15 minutes are spent actually doing your jobs and then you all collectively get distracted by each other.
Deuce has the brilliant idea to make bets on the hedgehogs and you all immediately agree except the hedgehogs scatter in different directions. In the end, a ridiculous debate ensues on whose hedgehog would have potentially, won the race
***
If you guys have a considerably long break between lessons, the four of you would head back to Ramshackle to play whatever card or board games are available with the ghosts.
quite a handful of times you guys lose track of time and have to fly back to the mirror (literally), through the halls (and hoping you don't get caught) and into the classroom.
Your positions on the broom are predetermined as follows: Deuce Infront, you in the middle with Grim on your lap and Ace behind you. Deuce gets to drive(?) because he has more experience in driving recklessly but safely...
Deuce was initially a bit shy because you're holding onto him but after a few more occurrences of the same thing, he got used to it. The giddy feeling he gets whenever you wrap your hands around his waist and the warmth emanating from your body never goes away though.
Grim is just happy because some type of chaos is going on and he gets to keep warm being sandwiched between you and Deuce. If you ever lean your body forward onto Deuce's, he might start feeling faint and lose his concentration on flying.
Ace is absolutely having the time of his life behind you because he gets to HOLD YOU. And if Deuce isn't driving steady enough, he has more of an excuse to hold you tighter. He would also try his luck each time and see how far he can go. Would you allow him to lean on you completely? Rest his head on your shoulder? The possibilities are endless.
***
Whenever the Aduece duo are hanging out in your room and are left unsupervised for too long, they'd either enable each other into doing stupid shit or start bickering. In this case, it's the former scenario.
You left them to their own devices while you went back to the classroom to get one of the books you needed to complete a homework assignment.
Usually they'd want to follow you because hey, you get to spend more time with the person you like, What more could you want?
But since the person they like doesn't originate from the same region, better yet same dimension; what better way to learn more about your crush then to snoop around their room?
So they do snoop around and after looking through your personal belongings on the shelves and drawers, they move on to your wardrobe.
Out of sheer curiosity, Ace opens your wardrobe and finds your clothes. His eyes straight away land on the skirts that are hanged neatly and immediately has a brilliant idea.
By the time you get back to Ramshackle and open the door, you're rendered speechless by what you're seeing. Both Ace and Deuce are wearing your skirts and are taking mirror selfies all while posing in cute positions.
The image you see before you is truly baffling that you still hadn't moved; seeing this, Ace flips his phone to you and takes a picture of your shocked expression. Definitely posts everything on magicam (idk how to spell it)
#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#heartslaybul x reader#ace trapolla x reader#ace x reader#deuce spade x reader#deuce x reader#deuce x yuu#ace x yuu#twsited wonderland#twst ace#twst deuce#heartslabyul#x reader#deuce spade#ace trappola
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Say hi to daddy!
Summary: How would these characters behave as fathers? What does their ideal family look like?
Characters: Heartslabyul dorm (Riddle, Ace, Deuce, Trey, Cater)
Other parts of the series: Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia, Royal Sword Academy
By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.
-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
He has so many shelves filled with parenting books everyone thinks he's preparing for writing his own study on parenting
Riddle is the type to panic whenever his child does things that are not written in the books or they don't pass certain milestones according to the research he's done
On one hand, Riddle is a logical man, who knows not all children all the same
On the other hand, he has no idea what good parenting actually looks like, so he assumes everything that goes "wrong" is his fault
For Riddle, parenting will be a journey full of a lot of growing and healing, healing his inner child especially
While hesitant to interact with his child at the beginning due to not wanting to snap at them unintentionally, once he's eased into it he'll become very attached
Riddle will be a little pushy when it comes to school at some point, but it comes from a place of care, and he will spend as much time as needed to tutor his child for any subject and reqard them when needed
He has scheduled play time, naps, meals and the occasional strawberry tart from uncle Trey when the child reaches an appropriate age
I can see Riddle as a boy dad and having only 1 child (that he, unfortunately, dresses like a small victorian child), 2 kids would be a bit too overwhelming for him
『••✎••』
Ace is, hands down, the fun parent
Always taking care of the tasks that involve more fun having than care taking, Ace is the go-to parent for when any child is upset and crying
Card tricks, stories with fun voices, playtime that crosses curfew by a few minutes, his personal mission is to make his children have fun and enjoy things
When they get older, they'll have to learn how to deal with Ace's honesty and his roundabout way of telling them he cares about them
Ace is not a person to hold back from saying what he thinks, so both him and his children will have to find a middle ground in order to not hurt each other
For Ace, parenting will become the perfect opportunity to become gentler with his words, and his love for the people he cares about will finally have a good place to go to
Once the kids are old enough, prank wars become a thing in the household
Not even poor uncle Deuce who drops by after work is free of the classic whoopee cushion
Ace definitely has a daughter, and no more than 2-3 kids
『••✎••』
If the dictionary had a picture next to "girl dad", it would be a picture of Deuce
He is the most gentle, most nervous parent out of his Heartslabyul dormmates
While he is not huge on looking into parenting books, he asks his mother for advice at least once a day
Until one day, when things just start flowing naturally and the parental instinct fully kicks in
When his babies get fussy, he likes to take them out on walks, to feel the calming wind and see the pretty sky
He slowly introduces all of his kids to blastcycles and taking them on small trips, even though he might get scolded himself for that
Deuce goes from being afraid of breaking his precious little babies to being a lover of roughhousing
Who would've thought that Deuce's feisty personality would also go to his kids to some degree? /s
Deuce is very afraid of finding out one of his kids is going down a darker path and becoming less appreciative of the things around them
While it will be a struggle and it will throw Deuce into an identity crisis, he'll do what he knows best: he won't give up on them, and keep loving them until they learn their lesson
If Deuce is capable of change, anyone is
Deuce is a family man, he'd love a few kids, not any more than 4 though
『••✎••』
Trey is the kind of parent who loves carrying around his children everywhere he goes, even while doing errands
He has baby chairs and carriers all over the house, and a bunch of baby sized kitchen accessories
Trey introduces cooking and baking to his children very early: they have special utensils that they know how to use from the age of 3
Some might think it's extreme, but Trey is determined to build their independence from a young age
He is kind of the picture perfect dad, not gonna lie: he is caring, stern but not strict and is the epitome of gentle parenting
He encourages his children to be creative, inside and outside of the kitchen
And he praises anything his kids show off to him
Yeah, he is the parent who puts drawings up on his fridge and stuff
Trey sometimes brings the kids to the bakery to increase the number of customers through some sweet displays of family time
If you ask him, he'll say it was uncle Cater's idea, but he's lying
Trey would definitely lean towards a bigger family, maybe 6 kids at the most, since he will get the hang of daddy-ing quite fast
Plus, uncle Che'nya is a very eager babysitter
『••✎••』
I really think Cater is into the new dad aesthetic
Posting pics of him and his new baby on Magicam, with the kid holding onto his finger with their tiny hand, with their first blankie, meeting uncle Trey for the first time
But he always keeps their face out of the picture or blurs it
Cater loves dancing between sharing his joys on social media and maintaining some privacy for his child until they are old enough to tell him if they want their picture to be posted
Cater is a fun dad all around: he loves going on small trips, piggy back rides, rocking his kiddo to sleep
He attends parenting classes before having his first child, and enjoys interacting with the local new mommies committee
Unfortunately, he is a bit reserved when the child becomes fussy or upset
Old habits die hard, and he knows he has to be open with his child for the betterment of their relationship
...yet, he is scared of being hated by his own child
It's terrifying, especially in the moments when his baby calls for their dad, and Cater gives in and starts soothing his little one
It's a struggle, not gonna lie, but Cater is willing to make baby steps
One child is enough for Cater, and he is definitely a boy dad in my eyes
#twisted wonderland#twst#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#ace trappola#ace trappola x reader#deuce spade#deuce spade x reader#riddle rosehearts#riddle rosehearts x reader#trey clover#trey clover x reader#cater diamond#cater diamond x reader
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Hi I am begging on my knees for more of your steddie x reader it’s so good I’m crying
BIZARRE LOVE TRIANGLE | baby fever
summary: steve's got a bad case of baby fever. it's not so bad until you start getting sick with it too. eddie has to come up with a solution before all of you fall ill.
pairing: steve harrington / f!reader / eddie munson
a/n: i just realized i haven't posted anything steddie related in almost three months. i am so sorry. this is a total travesty. please enjoy this 3k blurb and find it in your heart to forgive me <3
You squint at the grocery list scribbled on a bright blue sticky note. It’s a mish-mash of all your different handwritings. Some are certainly neater than others. “This just says crabs… I think...”
“It doesn’t say crabs, you loon,” Eddie laughs from where he mans the shopping cart beside you. He’s steering the thing about as well as his van. “It says cereals.”
“No, it says a bunch of gibberish that no one can read but you,” you retort with a giggle of your own as you follow him down the breakfast aisle. “And we just need one box of cereal, alright? Singular.”
He turns to you with a cartoonish pout on his lips. “But why?”
“Because you’re like a kid, Eds. You eat the entire thing in one sitting, and then you’re absolutely haywire for the rest of the day.”
And, just like a child, the boy stands in front of the vibrantly colored boxes of cereal with a wide grin on his face.
The local grocery store was smaller compared to the others in town, but they had every brand of the breakfast food known to man, stacked in neat rows from the floor to ceiling.
Eddie’s got a twinkle in his eye as his gaze runs over them all. And even though you think it’s all boyish and hilarious, you let him have his fun.
He grew up unable to enjoy all the goodness of overly sweet cereal because bills and food with actual sustenance were always more important. Now, he’s got a halfway stable job with Wayne at the car shop, and he’s living at his own place with his boyfriend and girlfriend, and he can buy whatever the hell kind of cereal he wants.
So, as far as he’s concerned, everyone who said he’d never amount to much can suck it.
And you know you’ll let him buy the whole damn grocery store out of their cereal if that’s what he wants. It’s the least you can do for the world’s best boyfriend — a title he begrudgingly shares with Steve The Hair Harrington.
You’d give him the world if you could, but for now you’ll have to settle for a couple of boxes of Lucky Charms.
“Okay, so the OJ’s we got last time tasted like absolute shit,” Eddie mutters, mostly to himself as he crouches to peer at the lower shelves. “I saw a commercial for Waffle-O’s this morning, and they looked pretty good. But I know you like Breakfast With Barbie and Steve ate a bowl of C3PO’s every day for, like, two weeks, so…”
You stand by the cart and laugh at his rambling. You turn to look behind you with a lighthearted joke sitting on the edge of your tongue. It dissipates when you realize Steve isn’t next to you.
Instead, he’s still standing at the end of the aisle with his back to you and Eddie — like his feet forgot how to work when he caught sight of the family across the store. It’s a mother and a father, dressed in their mid-weekday finest, with a baby swaddled at their chest and a toddler bouncing in the seat of the shopping cart.
And you know it’s got the boy totally lost in his own head. You know he's picturing you and him and Eddie as that happy family — the one fills every store you walk into with baby babbles and bubbly laughter.
Steve told you his senior year of high school he wanted a baby, that he wanted six of them, and that he wanted them all with you. And you were just a stupid seventeen-year-old girl who would’ve done anything he asked you to, though you definitely drew the line at babies.
But you’re older now, and far more settled than you had been all that time ago. Steve’s ready for a family, but you don’t think you’re anywhere close.
“How about we just compromise and get all three?” Eddie finally concludes with the boxes already in his arms. He dumps them into the cart and notices that your attention is elsewhere. He realizes then that Steve’s gone too because his attention is stuck on a nice family minding their own business.
“Not again…” he murmurs to himself while you go rescue the boy.
“I’ve never seen someone so sick with baby fever in my life,” you laugh as you drag Steve back to the cart by his wrist.
“I can’t help it!” he defends weakly. “They were so cute! They were all matching and I couldn’t stop thinking about how I can’t wait to coordinate outfits with our baby. Doesn’t that sound like the cutest fucking thing ever?”
“It sounds very adorable, Stevie,” you nod understandingly and try to ignore the way your stomach twists at the thought of him and his baby girl wearing matching pastels every time they step out of the house. “And we can be just like them in five years—”
“Five years?” he gapes.
“Maybe even ten,” Eddie shrugs and nonchalantly tosses a box of Count Chocula into the cart.
“Ten years— You guys are insane if you think I’m waiting ten years to have a kid!” Steve protests with a pair of buff arms crossed boyishly over his chest. “I’m not getting any younger over here, you know that, right?”
“You’re twenty-five, Steve, stop being so dramatic. We’re just now trying to get settled. I’m still in school, you’re still working at Family Video, Eddie’s still… Eddie. Don’t you think we should have actual careers before we have a kid?”
Steve huffs and rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance even though he knows you’re right.
It’s not like he wants to keep working at the stupid store on Main Street. He keeps putting off the conversation with his dad about another job, because he puts off every conversation with his dad. He’s scared of what asking for a position at his firm will do to his pride.
“She’s right, and you know it, Steven,” Eddie tells him, then scoffs. “I mean, can you really imagine me with a baby strapped to my chest on tour?”
You and Steve both pause and tilt your heads to the side as you picture the sight, terribly in sync as always. You can imagine it, quite perfectly actually, tangible enough to touch.
“Well—”
“That’s the cutest thing I think I’ve ever heard,” Steve finishes your thought for you.
Eddie cowers at the sudden attention. “Okay, stop looking at me like I’m a piece of meat, alright? We are not having a kid right now. There’s no fucking way.”
Steve all but deflates at the rejection as Eddie pushes the cart down the aisle, desperate to escape the bubble of tension the conversation had created in the cereal section.
You smile sheepishly over at Steve and wrap your arms through the crook of his elbow, standing on the tips of your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “He’s being grumpy about it, but he’s right… It’s just not a good idea right now— but it will be, okay? One day. Just not… to-day.”
┄
The day, for you, comes exactly seven of them later.
You accompany Steve on his morning run and his routine stop for coffee. You’re not quite sure how he’s still mobile because your muscles are screaming, even after the warm shower you took to soothe them.
You left him alone for all of half a second to use the bathroom while he ordered drinks for him and you, and something extra for Eddie for when the boy decides to roll out of bed.
When you return, you find him bouncing a baby on his hip — a young thing, maybe three if you had to guess, with two buns in her hair like bunny ears and a sparkly pink dress to match the bows she wears in them.
Steve smiles down at her, talking to her in a baby voice and saying something you can’t hear because you’re frozen in place. You resemble him at the grocery store a week ago, when he was thrown into a daydream so suddenly that his body all but shut down.
You look at him now, tickling the baby’s sides just to hear her giggle, and you see him with your firstborn — sleep deprived, covered in spit-up, and still the most beautiful human you’d ever seen.
You have to shake your head to remove the thought before it ruins you entirely.
Freshly jostled from your stupor, you walk over to him. “Steve… Please tell me you didn’t steal someone’s baby.”
He laughs. “What? No! She was just a little fussy, and I offered to take her while her mom looked for something,” the boy explains. You look just behind him to see the woman bent over at one of the smaller tables, sifting vigorously through a large baby bag.
“She doesn’t seem very fussy now,” you observe, eyes flitting between his and the child's and noticing they’ve both got matching grins.
“She doesn’t, does she?” he smiles, softly scratching at her sides again to make her laugh. And she does, most enthusiastically so, tilting her head back and letting the giggles spill from an open mouth.
He turns back to you, with wide eyes and raised brows and a bemused grin. “I like she likes me.”
“Of course, she does,” you scoff. “Babies always like you.”
The mom returns with a snack in hand and a relieved smile. Steve passes the baby back to her with little effort. She whines at the loss of him, though the brightly packaged treat is quick to quell her sorrow.
“Thanks for taking her,” the mother's grateful smile falters with exhaustion. “If I don’t give her the same snack at exactly the same time every day, she tends to go a little nuts.”
Steve tells her that it’s no problem, that he was a part-time babysitter at one point in his life, and that her kid was better than those little shits combined. He censors himself before the swear slips out, though.
You go your separate ways when the barista calls out your drink orders and walk hand in hand back to your place.
“Did you get their names?” you ask him before taking a sip of your latte.
“The mom’s name was Maeve and the kid’s name was Harper—”
“Holy shit,” you mutter.
Steve snaps his head over to you because he thinks you’ve burnt your mouth. Instead, he finds you with a distant smile on your face.
“Those are the cutest names I’ve ever heard. It sounds like something out of a fucking cartoon or something.”
“Yeah…” is all he can say because his mind is preoccupied with a million other thoughts. He doesn’t tell you them, obviously, but you know they’re there. The sly smile pulling at his lips makes it obvious.
“…Why are you looking at me like that.”
“Because I’m totally gonna wear you down,” he grins and brings his coffee to his mouth, sipping through his smirk.
You only scoff in response. “Never.”
┄
It doesn’t take you very long to realize that Steve was right.
You spend the rest of the day thinking about it — about him with a baby and how perfect he'd be as a dad. The thoughts plague you far more than they usually do. They take up the entire frontal cortex of your brain and make it nearly impossible to think about anything else.
You’re self-aware enough to beat yourself up about it.
You were just telling him that it wasn’t time yet, and you knew you were right. As far as you’re concerned, you still have another few good years before you’re ready to even start seriously considering it.
But here you are, having to calm yourself down every time the thought of Steve Harrington with a baby, your baby, crosses your mind.
You wait until the boy heads to bed to talk to Eddie about it. You find him in the kitchen, eating handfuls of Breakfast with Barbie like a maniac. You’re too preoccupied to make a snarky comment about it.
“Steve wasn’t lying,” you warn him.
“..About what?” he wonders through the mouthful.
“About him not waiting ten years to have a baby! He wants one now!” you explain through a yell-whisper hybrid. “And he told me he was going to wear me down, and he was right.”
Eddie’s eyes go wide too, like he’s just learned you caught some sort of plague. You have. It’s called baby fever, and it’s only a matter of time before the entire house is afflicted. “Shit…”
“So you have to be the strong one, Eddie.”
“Oh, god,” he whines with pinched brows. “Why does it have to be me?”
“Because I saw him hold a baby today.”
“…And this is a bad thing?”
“Of course, it’s a bad thing! My hormones went crazy, okay? It’s like my brain stopped functioning, and I started thinking with my ovaries or something! All human instinct told me to lay down and procreate the second we got home!”
Eddie laughs to himself. “Are you sure it was human instinct, or was it just you on a normal Wednesday?”
“I’m being serious, Eddie,” you tell him, a sudden solemnity to your features. “You have to put your foot down whenever Steve talks about it because I will cave.”
“Alright, alright, have some Barbie cereal and settle down,” he tells you with a playful grin.
He offers you the box and you pout for a moment before sticking your hand into it and pulling out several red and purple butterfly pieces.
The boy wraps an arm around you with his free hand. He pulls you closer and noses at the crown of your head. You sigh as you relax into him.
“I’ll take care of it, okay? I actually have the perfect idea.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” you waver through a mouthful of cereal.
“Don’t worry about it,” he lilts with a grin, smacking a kiss to your forehead. “Let me take care of it.”
┄
You and Steve are tangled in bedsheets, both slowly rousing but trying desperately to go back to sleep.
You’re laying on your stomach, face smushed into the pillow you clutch to your head. Steve lays halfway on top of you — his legs knotted with yours, arm splayed over your back, and softly snoring in your ear.
Both of you noticed the lack of Eddie’s presence, but chose not to linger on it too much, figuring he must’ve gone for a breakfast run.
He returns hardly a moment after the thought of him crosses your mind. You hear the door open and shut again, then the shouts of your names entwined with a muffled barking.
You groan at the intrusion on your sleep.
Steve huffs and shifts against you, voice gruff with fatigue as he wonders: “Why do I hear a dog?”
The mixture of confusion and subtle knowing has you both shuffling out of the bedroom and trudging into the living room.
You round the corner and find Eddie standing by the door with a rowdy goldendoodle bouncing at his feet. He’s trying hopelessly to undo its leash when the thing starts to squirm at the sight of you and Steve.
Eddie’s eyes flit to the both of you when he notices you standing across the room. A smile bursts like early morning sunshine on his face. “Surprise!” he beams.
The metal of the leash clicks when he finally gets it unbuckled. The dog dashes your way, all but jumping into Steve and then spinning in circles with excitement as it tries to figure out who to accept attention from.
“You got us a dog?” the boy wonders, head cocked back to dodge the thing as it licks at his chin.
“You said you wanted a baby,” Eddie shrugs. “So, I got you a baby.”
“This is so not what a meant,” the boy grouses in response, though he’s got his arms wrapped around the dog like he’s hugging it. “I mean, it’s not even a baby— it’s huge.”
“The woman at the shelter said he was eight months old. And he is a he, so stop calling him it.”
You crouch beside Steve, scratching the dog behind his ear. He pants with his tongue sticking out, almost looking like he’s smiling. It makes you smile too.
“We don’t even have dog food. Or toys. Or a bed,” you stress. “What are we even gonna name it?”
“Well, I took care of exactly one of those things,” Eddie lilts with a grin. “They only had that gross artificial shit at the grocery store, but they did have some badass collars and an engraving machine, so…”
You and Steve peek through the dog’s golden curls and find a black band with silver spikes dotted around the neck. “Super metal, huh?” you hear himEdiejoke as you reach for the dangled heart pendant handing around the collar.
“…Ozzy?” you recite.
“See what I mean?” he beams. “Metal.”
#published by bug#steve harrington x reader#eddie munson x reader#steddie x reader#stranger things x reader#steve harrington imagine#eddie munson imagine#steve harrington fic#eddie munson fic#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#st drabbles#stevie drabble#eddie spaghetti drabble
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A special sort of craving 1
Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Characters: Lloyd Hansen
Summary: A stranger appears at your cafe and leaves you unsettled.
Part of the Backwood AU
Note: I found this in my docs and then I was like this could be an AU and people will hate me but here we are. I am heavily considering adding at least one other character to the AU bc I have an idea I don't think i'll ever get to full length with.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
He doesn’t belong. Not in this sleepy village. You can tell by the ring on his pinky, a golden signet that boasts of wealth not known to the farmers and lumberers of the desolate locale. His cheeks are red as if he didn’t expect the crisp autumn bite, though his jacket is unzipped to his chest, revealing a golf shirt with some designer logo sewn into the collar.
He tilts his head as he considers the glass display with shelves of bite-sized tarts and fragrant pies. You approach the other side, standing on tiptoes to see over it. His eyes slowly rise with your movement, a dimple in his cheek of amusement. You skirt around to the side of the display and lean over the lower counter so he can see you.
“Hello, you looking for something in particular?” you ask.
“Something sweet,” he answers, his crooked grin lingers as he lets his gaze wander back to the pies, “cherry… it’s been a while since I had a nice, juicy cherry pie.”
He licks his lips with the last word, reaching up to brush his fingertips over his bristly mustache. Your smile threatens to falter but you keep it on. He definitely isn’t from around here. Not with his accent or the hair slicked back so neatly.
“You want a slice?” you ask brightly. “Two bucks for a slice, twelve for the whole thing.”
“Hmm?” he raises a brow and sidles over to stand across from you.
“The pie,” you say as he puts a hand on the counter, leaning in as his other rests on his hip, “did you want some?”
His eyes fall down to the top of your apron, the red and white checker distracting him as you mindlessly flick the frill around the skirt. His smirk blooms fully and he stands straight.
“Wouldn’t mind a slice… of the pie,” he says as if it’s some joke. You don’t get it.
“Sure,” you say as you go behind the display and take out the cherry pie. You take it to the metal table behind you as you hear him, sense him looming along the counter. “You want anything to drink, sir? Some milk? Tea? Coffee? We do a combo for three-fifty.”
“Mm-mm-mm, a nice glass of milk would go nice with the pie,” he purrs, “they usually got you working all alone, sweetness?”
You look over your shoulder as you shovel a slice onto a plate, little flowers painted around the waffled trim.
“It’s my shop,” you say as you take the dish and grab a fork from the tray. You place it beside the till and type in the total, “cash or card, sir?”
“You own all this?” he leans his elbows on the counter, bent at the waist as he looks up at you.
“Sir,” you nod.
“Card,” he stands and stretches his arms over him before he drops his hands, poking his fingers in his back pocket.
“I’ll get that milk,” you say as he swipes his card, “and I’ll bring this over to you if you wanna sit.”
“Ah, table service, I like it,” he says as the machine chirps and accepts his payment, “you country folk are all so… nice, aren’t you?”
“Suppose,” you say as you open the fridge and take out a small carton.
You glance over as he tucks away his wallet. He winks and walks away. He drapes his jacket over the chair by the window as you grab a glass and hurry over to the counter. You place the glass and carton on his table as he sits. You go back to the counter and bring him the pie.
“You visiting someone?” you ask curiously.
He looks at you pointedly. You hesitate. You forget that the city slickers don’t like questions, but everyone in the village knows each other, so your habit has you careless.
“Bought some house called ‘The Grove’,” he answers as he pushes the fork through the braided crust, “apparently it’s a big deal.”
“The Grove?” you can’t help your surprise, “wow.”
He scoffs, hardly amused, and slides the fork into his mouth, sucking off the pie as he watches you. He chews and swallows slowly as he hovers the silver over the oozing pie.
“You know it?”
“It’s pretty far out,” you say, “but yeah, everyone knows The Grove.”
“Sure,” he pokes a cherry so the juice leaks out, “this is good pie. You make all these?”
“It’s my recipe, but I think Melinda did that one.”
“Don’t get good home cooking like this in the city,” he plops the cherry in his mouth and his jaw tenses with the tartness, he hums in satisfaction. He looks you up and down once more, “don’t get that personal touch.”
“I’m glad you like it, I’ll let Melinda know,” you push your hands into the large pockets of your apron, a movement that further catches his attention.
“Sounds good, cupcake,” he opens the carton and pours the milk into the glass, “you do delivery?”
“Sundays,” you answer, “not that we get many requests but…”
“Personal deliveries,” he insists, “like you said, house is far away, and I’m new in town. Wouldn’t mind a familiar face and a nice pie.”
You rub your neck, “well I don’t usually do the deliveries.”
“Melinda?” he prompts.
“No, Terry takes them with the lumber.”
“Mm,” he frowns, “right… guess I’ll just make the trip in.”
“Okay,” you nod, “let me know if ya need anything else.”
“Oh, I definitely will,” he slithers as you slowly turn away.
You feel him watching you as you try to hide behind the counter. You take a cloth and the cleaner and start wiping down the back of the display. You hear the clink of his fork against the plate.
City people are always a bit odd, but he gives you a bad feeling.
#lloyd hansen#dark lloyd hansen#dark!lloyd hansen#lloyd hansen x reader#drabble#series#au#backwoods au#the gray man#a special sort of craving
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Days like today I just want Eddie to pin me against the wall and say the dirtiest things to me until I crumble in his arms :)
Studying
Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Note: lol I got carried away with this one, sorry.
Warning: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, semi public sex-ish, grinding, dirty talk
Eddie loves to find you when you're studying in the community college library. You're a full-time student, but he's taking a music business course on Tuesday nights, and he knows exactly where to find you when class lets out at 10pm. You're always sequestered in the back of the stacks on the fourth floor. It's quiet there. No one to distract you and the history section all to yourself. That is until Eddie arrives.
He finds you looking through the shelves in the very back. Every other overhead light has been shut off in the energy-saving mode that the library switches to after 10pm. This leaves the corner draped in darkness, and that's where you find yourself pinned, your back against the angle where the two bookshelves meet. Eddie’s hands gripping the shelves on either side of your face. His pelvis crushed to yours and his lips at your ear.
“Pretty little baby’s been waiting all night just for someone to come and distract her, huh?” His lip catches against your earlobe as he speaks. Your hands clutch at his battle vest to pull him needlessly closer.
“E-Eddie, I need to study,” you mutter. You both know you’re a filthy liar. The words on the page had stopped making sense long before his class had finished and you’d really only stayed here so he could find you here alone. And moreover, you’re dragging him against your body, not allowing a centimeter of space to generate between you. Eddie chuckles.
“What do you need to study, baby? My fingers?” He brings a hand to your face, lightly hooking under your jaw to tip your head up while his thumb begins tracing your wet bottom lip. He applies light pressure on it and your mouth opens with a rushed exhale. “Looking for some extra credit there, princess?”
You blink up at him, brain already going fuzzy, and nod your head as best you can in his grasp. He takes that moment to insert his thumb in your mouth and you begin sucking dutifully without missing a beat. Eddie groans.
“Mmm I don’t know, baby. Seems like you might already be acing this subject matter.” He pulls his hand away and tsks you when you whine at the loss. The hand on your face slides to your neck while the other reaches down to clamp onto your hip. “What else is there baby? Maybe you need to study my...mouth?”
“Y-yeah,” is all you manage to agree vehemently before he’s descending on you. Catching you up in a bruising, frenzied kiss that sucks away your breath and curls your toes in your shoes. The hand on your throat tightens just a bit and you gasp into the kiss, allowing him more access to delve his tongue into your depths. He swallows your moan, fresh from the source.
When Eddie pulls away you are panting, but though his breathing is definitely sped up a bit, he smiles at you with an ease that drives you wild. He scrunches his face dramatically like he is considering something. His hand still light but steady on your throat.
“Nah, you’re almost too good at that, baby. Who’s the lucky fucker who got to tutor you to such high marks in making out?” he asks with a cheeky gleam in his eye. You’re so beyond the point of teasing or playing along at this point, shooting straight past to full on earnestness.
“You are, Eddie,” you exclaim, voice desperate even to your own ears. Eddie’s face feigns shock before it slides into a smirk.
“I should up my rates, then,” he teases. “If I’m such a good tutor, maybe you should be paying me double. Or maybe I should switch up the payment to something a little more...mutually beneficial.”
As he says this he hikes one of your legs up over his hip, hooking his hand up under your thigh in order to support you and keep your leg lifted. He swiftly grinds his clothed hard on against your panty-clad pussy. You whimper and do your best to grind back, seeking the friction you so urgently desire, but the angle he’s holding you at and the desperation of your gyration makes it so you push against him erratically.
And he laughs in your ear.
“Oh pretty baby. I think we might have found what you still need to study,” he whispers, mock sympathy rough on his voice. Eddie swivels his hips a bit harder and more intentionally against you now, causing a whimper to fall off your lips. “Need to study my dick, yeah?”
“Yes, Eddie,” you gasp. Your hands fly to his shoulders, fisting in the fabric of his jacket. Clinging to him for dear life as he hoists you more fully up against the corner, now both your legs wrapped around his torso. He sucks a ferocious kiss into the side of your throat, making you moan.
“Mmm yeah you do, fuck.” His words vibrate against your skin as he continues to mouth at you. You’re rutting against him as best you can now though it’s almost no use. You’re losing control, a shaking mess as the anticipation and the arousal builds your movements become shallow and weak. You know Eddie’s going to tire of the tease soon and take pity on you, it’s only a matter of time. But he chuckles at your attempts nonetheless. “Poor baby. So hot and bothered but she just can’t get herself off. Need my help getting yourself off on my dick? Want me to help you feel real good?”
“Eddie.” His name comes out as a squeak. Eddie places a blistering kiss on your lips, positively plundering your mouth with his tongue before pulling back, a string of spit connecting you till he laughs.
“Well you’re in luck, because I think we just established that I’m the best tutor around.” The motherfucker gives you a roguish wink and you melt even deeper against the bookshelf. He ruts his erection against you with purpose now, punctuating each of your gasps with another answering thrust. “Time for your first lesson.”
~*~
Taglist: @sacklerscumrag @millenialcatlady @theoncrayjoy @cowboy-kylo
@copycatkillerfics @boomhauer @boostilinski @wroteclassicaly @eddiesprincess86 @bambigoth-sims @chaoschaoswriting @lassie-bird @softpshycopath @katsukis1wife @spookyreidd
#Eddie Munson smut#Eddie Munson x reader#Eddie Munson x you#Eddie Munson/you#Eddie Munson/reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#fem!reader
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to be alone together
pairing: Steve Harrington x reader
summary: steve has to work on valentine’s day, but maybe it’s not as bad as he thought it would be
warnings: none, 1.8k
a/n: u know i had to do a lil something for my steve girlies too <3 went for a more steve centric pov bc he is the definition of pining simp
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(gif credits to @harringtondaily)
“Kinda sucks that you gotta work tonight.” Robin’s voice through the phone pressed to Steve’s ear was staticky, but still provided a good distraction from the empty video store around him.
It was Valentine’s Day and Steve had been at Family Video since opening, watching couple after couple come in to pretty much clear the romcom shelves, and yeah, he was a little bummed about it, but there was no point moping around about it any longer than he already had been.
“It’s whatever, honestly. Not like I had any plans to begin with.” He sighed, shifting the receiver so it was wedged between his cheek and shoulder as his fingers drifted down to fiddle with the pen on the counter absentmindedly.
“Steve, that’s sad.” Robin replied. Steve wrinkled his nose, a slightly offended noise escaping the back of his throat. “No! I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant that you should be out and about, having a good time.”
“You know what’s actually sad? You talking to me instead of paying attention to your date.” He shot back, only half serious. “Where’s Nance?”
“Oh she’s right here. Say hi, Nance.”
Steve heard a faint ‘hi Steve’ in the background and he returned the greeting. “What are you guys doing tonight?”
“She made this really fancy pasta thing for dinner, we’re just waiting on the chicken to finish in the oven and I thought I’d see what was going on with you.” Robin sounded casual, but he knew this was her way of checking up on him since he was the only one on shift all day and she knew how he felt about today.
“Rob, I don’t know how many times I gotta tell you, but I’m fine. It’s really not a big deal.”
“Why don’t you just close up early, come join us for dinner? We have more than enough food.”
“You’re seriously inviting me to crash your romantic dinner date with your girlfriend?” He snorted, rolling his eyes playfully. “What does Nancy think of that?”
There was some shuffling on the other end, a bout of silence, then Robin was back on the line. “She’s giving me a weird look, nevermind. Now that I think about it, it wasn’t my best idea.”
“I love you both, but you know I can’t.”
The bell above the door jingled softly, drawing Steve’s attention away from his phone call and to whoever just walked in.
Shit. It was you.
You were dressed like you were supposed to be on your date, not here, hair and makeup done up all pretty, floaty dress in his favorite color swishing around your knees as you made your way into the store. It made him wonder if you chose that color on purpose, but he knew that you didn’t. You couldn’t have known you’d be seeing him tonight. Wishful thinking on his end though.
“Rob, I gotta go,” He blurted, straightening up behind the counter.
“Wait, what—”
“I gotta go, she’s—someone’s here, I gotta help her.”
“She? Oh my god, wait! Is it—”
“Have a nice date, tell Nance I said bye!” With that, Steve hung up, slamming the receiver onto the base with enough force to send it skittering a few inches. “Hey, Y/N.”
“Steve!” Your previously downturned lips lifted into a smile, one that had Steve’s heart thudding a little faster in his chest. It always did. “I didn’t know you were working tonight.”
See, you were also part of the reason he decided to take the extra shift today, but through no fault of your own. You’d mentioned earlier in the week while you were hanging out with him and Robin that someone had asked you out for tonight, and Steve didn’t really know how to feel about it.
You were friends, but had Steve been harboring a crush on you since pretty much the first day you met? Yes.
Did he feel an itching sense of jealousy that you were going on a date with someone that wasn’t him? Also yes.
Would he do anything about it? Probably not.
Okay, so maybe he knew exactly how he felt about it. Hell, he’d picked up an extra shift to distract himself from it.
“Yeah, I got called in last minute." A lie. "Aren’t you supposed to be on a date right now?” A casual, not at all hoping that it crashed and burned question. That would be mean. (But also a little gratifying for him.)
You chuckled, a tad bitter as you leaned forward, propping your elbows on the counter, the action sending a whiff of your perfume his way. Steve’s knees almost gave out. “Supposed to, yeah. But the guy never showed up.”
Steve had to fight a noise of surprise. What kind of dumbass would skip out on a date with you? “Really? That’s—that sucks, I’m sorry.”
“S’okay. Wasn’t really looking forward to it anyways.”
“Oh?”
“I didn’t really know him that well, honestly. He was a friend of a friend, asked me out in front of a bunch of people, and I didn’t really wanna turn him down and make it awkward.”
“You’re way too nice, Y/N. And he’s an idiot for standing you up.”
“Thanks, Steve.” You smiled warmly at him, patting his hand. Steve had to pretend his pulse wasn’t racing right now. “What about you? Why’re you here and not out with anyone?”
“I, uh—I didn’t really feel like going out tonight. Don’t think I’d be a very good date anyways.”
“Oh, you’re just being modest. What girl wouldn’t wanna spend Valentine’s Day with Steve Harrington?”
The one girl he wanted to spend this day with, he thought. You.
“You’d be surprised.” He muttered.
“Well then they’re idiots too.”
A small smile quirked his lips. “Thanks.”
“Hey, I just came to pick up some movies and spend the rest of my night shoveling down ice cream, but since we’re both here now and alone, d’you wanna…be alone together? Grab a bite to eat or do something?”
Steve’s shoulders slumped defeatedly. “I’d love to, but I—I can’t. I gotta stay here til the end of my shift, Keith’s been on my ass about taking off early and as much as I hate the guy, I don’t wanna get fired.”
“Oh, okay. Don’t worry about it, I’m, uh—it’s cool.” Was he hallucinating, or did you look disappointed?
“Would you maybe wanna, I dunno, stay here? We can watch whatever you want and I know where Robin keeps her work snack stash. That way we can be alone together and I don’t get chewed out again?” Steve blurted hopefully. He was honestly expecting you to say no. Why would you wanna spend the rest of your already shitty night with him in a dingy video store? But then your face split into the biggest smile and you nodded, rocking forward on the balls of your feet earnestly. “Go pick something out, I’ll grab the snacks.”
You scurried off to browse the near bare shelves, leaving Steve shaking his head amusedly in your wake as he watched you skim the tapes with a look of utmost concentration. He slipped into the back room to grab Robin’s last unopened bag of chips, making a mental note to buy more before tomorrow’s shift before returning to the video area.
He skimmed the store, spotting you in the romcom section, and when he made his way over, you were contemplating the last two tapes on the shelf.
You beamed at him upon spotting him. “Pretty in Pink or Sixteen Candles?”
“Am I allowed to say neither?”
“You said whatever I want, Steve.” You said pointedly, propping your hands on your hips.
“I did, didn’t I?” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. You let out a hum of pleasure, sliding your chosen movie off the shelf and wandering towards the TV in the corner. Steve hurried after you quickly, plucking the tape from between your fingertips and running away, not unlike a child would.
“Steve!” You huffed, whirling on your heel. He grinned mischievously at you, waving it in the air like a taunt. You caught up with him within seconds, lunging for the tape that he held up above his head and away from your outstretched hand. Your body was pressed against his as you reached for it, as you leaned against him in a fruitless attempt to overpower him. “Steve, gimme the tape!”
“No!” He laughed, but that laughter very soon trickled off as soon as he realized your proximity. You were so close, he could see the color of your eyes clear as day, looking right back at him. You’d fallen quiet too, as if you’d come to the same realization.
You were nose to nose, faces a hair’s breadth away from each other, the stolen tape in Steve’s hands long forgotten. Every fiber in his body was telling him to pull away, because the longer he stayed here the weirder it would be when he finally did manage to retreat, but no matter how hard he willed himself to move, he couldn’t. Instead, his eyes flicked down to your lips. Your breath hitched almost imperceptibly.
“Steve?” You whispered, gaze darting around his own face.
“Yeah?”
“Kiss me.”
You didn’t have to tell him twice.
Steve dropped the tape immediately, closing the gap between you and pressing his lips against yours. His hands came up to cup your face, holding you firm but kissing you soft, like he was preparing himself to pull away if you did. But from the way you were returning his kiss, how your hands clutched at the front of his vest to keep him this close, it didn’t feel like you’d be pulling away anytime soon, and that spurred him on even more.
One hand slid down to settle at your waist, the other curling around the back of your neck as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss just a little bit.
Steve’s lips felt tingly when he pulled away, tasted of your cherry lip gloss when his tongue darted out to lick them. He was sure to have a little bit on his mouth now, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Not by a long shot. Cherry might’ve just become his new favorite flavor.
“I really like you.” He breathed, chest heaving against yours. Your lips curved into a soft smile—the same smile that nearly sent Steve’s brain short circuiting every time it was aimed his way.
“After that kiss, I’d sure hope so,” You replied, smoothing out his wrinkled shirt as best you could. “I like you too, just so you know. Part of the reason I was so okay with my date ditching me. He wasn’t you.”
Steve could only beam at you, going in for another kiss. In his excitement, he missed his mark, hitting the corner of your mouth instead, but he didn’t care. The girl he wanted all along actually liked him back, and it only took one failed date and an extra shift to find out.
Maybe working on Valentine’s Day wasn’t so bad after all.
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington fic#stranger things#joe keery#if u saw me say goodnight earlier don't look at me#what is it with me and posting when i should be sleeping#is anyone awake#does anyone even read tags anymore tho#anyways if you've gotten this far hi thank u for reading i love u#MWAH#ok im actually going to bed now#goodnight <3#happy valentine's day besties
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Miguel O'Hara As Your Boyfriend Headcanons
This is just the first of my work from TikTok that I'm reposting here. I made a few changes, so it's not exactly the same.
Warnings: None
Pairing: F/M
Word Count: 691
Prepare to be treated like a princess. He's such a gentleman with you. The type to always show up 10 minutes before a date, hold open the door for you, have a bouquet ready, etc. He is the type of man who insists that you don't have to split the bill. He'll pay for you.
Miguel would prefer to sit down and plan dates with you. He wouldn't feel comfortable with surprise dates until he's known you for some time and is more in tune with your preferences. These planning sessions can result in him stressing out too much about it.
Since there's no way you wouldn't be smaller than him, he gets a kick out of picking you up. He also likes to place things on high shelves, so you'll have to stand on a chair or get him to help. He finds it adorable.
He will always be the big spoon. You'll fall asleep on your side of the bed and wake up in his arms. He's a cuddle monster, even though he doesn't want to admit it.
He wouldn't be against PDA, but the most he'll do is hold your hand and give you quick pecks on the cheek here and there. He's a bit of a prude in public.
If you have any hobbies, Miguel will do his best to get into them. At the very least, understand them better. If it's something nerdy, you'll definitely walk in on him looking at the Wiki page for whatever fandom you're in while wearing reading glasses.
Miguel is a provider, and his love language is gift-giving and acts of service.
His gift-giving can range from buying you that cute dress you said you wanted and tickets for a luxury cruise. He wants to spoil you. This results in him unintentionally becoming your sugar daddy. Since he's usually busy with work, he thinks giving you things can make up for his absence.
If he has the time, he loves to cook for you and prepare your meals. Grocery shopping is also quite enjoyable with him, and he always encourages you to come with him to the store. However, he will side-eye you if you gravitate towards junk food. Cooking is also therapeutic for him. Even if you can cook, you'll usually sit off to the side, watching Miguel work his magic.
When you start living together, he starts doing some of your chores. You'll have to tell him to divide them instead.
At first, Miguel would only call you by your first name when you started dating. It takes a few months for him to address you by a term of endearment. Usually, he would call you by a Spanish endearment, but occasionally, he'll use an English endearment.
Arguments with him aren't frequent. When they do happen, Miguel will shut down. He hates it when these scenarios, especially if he's the cause of the problem. Miguel tends to be the first to apologize in these cases. He will also cut up some fruit for you as a peace offering. However, if you need space, Miguel respects that and waits until you're ready to talk. He isolates himself when that happens.
If you're shy or are the type to withhold your opinions, he's actively encouraging you to express yourself more. He would also make jokes that you're too nice.
If you're not Mexican, he's gonna share his culture with you. If you don't know Spanish, he's gonna teach you. Don't worry. He's surprisingly patient with you. He also wants to learn more about your own culture.
He's a good singer, and he takes full advantage of it. Sometimes, it's to serenade you. Other times (AKA most times), he's just being goofy. He keeps doing it because he knows you like it. Don't mention it around his colleagues. He'll get embarrassed.
Telling you that he's Spider-Man wouldn't be something he'd reveal to you for a long time. When he finally decides to do the reveal, it's more of a spur-of-the-moment decision. But let's be honest, you figured it out months ago. There's only one man in Neuva York who's that double-cheeked up.
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Harry Potter is Really Magically Powerful
So, in continuation to this post, and my desire to show some love to Harry James Potter, this post is dedicated to showing how magically powerful Harry actually is in the books — which is insanely powerful. Harry doesn't think of himself as a great wizard, but he is — definitely powerful enough to be Voldemort's equal (and Dumbledore's for that matter).
Under the cut are some quotes from the books that prove this.
Accidental Magic
Let's start with Harry's childhood accidental magic. Tom was considered prodigious for being able to steal things with magic and make animals obey him intentionally. Neville, as a late bloomer, bounced when thrown, which is the bare minimum of childhood accidental magic young witches and wizards should be doing.
Now he came to think about it…every odd thing that had ever made his aunt and uncle furious with him had happened when
he, Harry, had been upset or angry…chased by Dudley’s gang, he had somehow found himself out of their reach…dreading going to school with that ridiculous haircut, he’d managed to make it grow back…and the very last time Dudley had hit him, hadn’t he got his revenge, without even realizing he was doing it? Hadn’t he set a boa constrictor on him?
(Philosopher's Stone, page 44)
Harry has:
Apparated out of Dudley's reach when in danger to get away - advanced magic only allowed to practice from the age of 16!
Growing back all his hair from not liking the bad haircut.
Disappearing the glass of the Boa Constrictor case and leashing it
not even when he’d had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that he’d somehow turned his teacher’s wig blue.
(Philosopher's Stone, page 84)
4. Turning his teacher's hair blue.
We see Harry is capable of aparation, transfiguration, and various charms at a level that is considered prodigious. Harry was incredibly advanced as a child according to his feats of magic before even knowing magic was real. And while he wasn't as intentional as Tom, he was aware enough to know odd things happened when he was "furious or upset" that the odd things responded to him.
Intuitive Casting
I wrote later in this post about this, but I do want to write a whole essay about how magic works in the Wizarding world, but like, really in short, emotion and intention matter in magic. A lot.
And we see Harry make use of this fact to great effect. Using spells with intention to change the way they behave and they work for him because of how magically prodigious he is.
Harry raised his own wand.
“Protego!”
Snape staggered; his wand flew upward, away from Harry — and suddenly Harry’s mind was teeming with memories that were not his — a hook-nosed man was shouting at a cowering woman, while a small dark-haired boy cried in a corner. . . . A greasy-haired teenager sat alone in a dark bedroom, pointing his wand at the ceiling, shooting down flies. . . . A girl was laughing as a scrawny boy tried to mount a bucking broomstick —
“ENOUGH!”
Harry felt as though he had been pushed hard in the chest; he took several staggering steps backward, hit some of the shelves covering Snape’s walls and heard something crack. Snape was shaking slightly, very white in the face.
(Order of the Phoenix, page 591)
This is from the last of Harry's and Snape's Occlumancy lessons. What's interesting here is that from Snape's words, it seems the protego spell isn't supposed to work like that. Harry is magically powerful enough to make protego (shield charm) to defend him from Legilamancy, turn the Legilamancy onto Snape and disarm Snape.
No wonder Snape is shocked, it really isn't supposed to work. Unless you're Harry Potter, that is.
He did say in their first lesson the rules of magic don't seem to apply to Harry.
“Reparo!” hissed Snape, and the jar sealed itself once more. “Well, Potter . . . that was certainly an improvement. . . .” Panting slightly, Snape straightened the Pensieve in which he had again stored some of his thoughts before starting the lesson, almost as though checking that they were still there. “I don’t remember telling you to use a Shield Charm . . . but there is no doubt that it was effective. . . .”
(Order of the Phoenix, page 591)
What I marked here is the fact in all their occlumancy lessons, even the first, Snape always placed a few memories in the pensive. He chose memories he didn't want Harry to see and place them there.
Okay... so why is that a big deal?
Snape repeatedly belittles Harry's magical skills, and yet, he fears Harry would turn the Legilemancy connection back on him. Legilemancy as Snape explained is no easy skill:
“Only Muggles talk of ‘mind reading.’ The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by any invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing, Potter . . . or at least, most minds are. . . .” He smirked. “It is true, however, that those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly...”
(Order of the Phoenix, pages 350-351)
As such, he doesn't expect Harry to be capable of it. But that’s a lie. He clearly thinks Harry is skilled enough to be a threat in this situation. That Harry just might be able to turn this around and glimpse his own memories, which is no easy feat.
And Snape is many things, but stupid isn't one of them. If he thinks Harry is uniquely magically prodigious to be capable of this, then Harry probably is. Especially considering how much Snape hates Harry and how much he'd rather think he's stupid, useless, and unskilled.
“SHE KILLED SIRIUS!” bellowed Harry. “SHE KILLED HIM — I’LL KILL HER!” And he was off, scrambling up the stone benches. People were shouting behind him but he did not care. The hem of Bellatrix’s robes whipped out of sight ahead and they were back in the room where the brains were swimming. . . .
She aimed a curse over her shoulder. The tank rose into the air and tipped. Harry was deluged in the foul-smelling potion within. The brains slipped and slid over him and began spinning their long, colored tentacles, but he shouted, “Wingardium Leviosa!” and they flew into the air away from him. Slipping and sliding he ran on toward the door.
(Order of the Phoenix, page 809)
Okay, so can we talk about this Levitation Charm? Please?
Like, get this, he uses Wingardium Leviosa, like a shield charm that sends multiple magical projectiles away from him. This isn't how this charm works, but it is if you're Harry Potter. (again, this is that intention use I mentioned)
The point is, that Harry is magically powerful enough to bend the way spells are meant to work to fit his will and situation.
And when Voldemort possesses him at the end of the fight in Order of the Phoenix:
He was gone from the hall, he was locked in the coils of a creature with red eyes, so tightly bound that Harry did not know where his body ended and the creature’s began. They were fused together, bound by pain, and there was no escape —
And when the creature spoke, it used Harry’s mouth, so that in his agony he felt his jaw move. . . .
“Kill me now, Dumbledore. . . .”
Blinded and dying, every part of him screaming for release, Harry felt the creature use him again. . . .
“If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy. . . .”
Let the pain stop, thought Harry. Let him kill us. . . . End it, Dumbledore. . . . Death is nothing compared to this. . . .
And I’ll see Sirius again. . . .
And as Harry’s heart filled with emotion, the creature’s coils loosened, the pain was gone, Harry was lying facedown on the floor, his glasses gone, shivering as though he lay upon ice, not wood. . . .
(Order of the Phoenix, page 816)
Harry kicks Voldemort out.
As I mentioned, I have a a whole theory I'm drafting about magical theory and how magic works in the Wizarding World, but emotion as Harry describes in this scene is part of it. Emotion drives childhood accidental magic. Emotion is required to cast the Patronus charm and any of the unforgivable. Because of how emotion is tied to magic in this world, this instance is Harry's magic kicking Voldemort in his full power out of his mind.
Which is an impressive feat of magic.
Advanced Charmwork
“Oh — yeah —” said Harry, quickly forcing his thoughts back to that first broom ride. “Expecto patrono — no, patronum — sorry — expecto patronum, expecto patronum —”
Something whooshed suddenly out of the end of his wand; it looked like a wisp of silvery gas.
“Did you see that?” said Harry excitedly. “Something happened!”
(Prisoner of Azkaban, page 238)
This is the first time Harry cast a Patronus Charm. On his very first try of this complex charm, most adult wizards fail at — he succeeds. It isn't a perfect casting. His happy memory isn't happy enough, but the problem isn't Harry's skill.
The fact he succeeded in casting it at all with how crap his life has been up to this point is a testament to his magical talent.
Hatred rose in Harry such as he had never known before. He flung
himself out from behind the fountain and bellowed “Crucio!”
Bellatrix screamed. The spell had knocked her off her feet, but she did not writhe and shriek with pain as Neville had — she was already on her feet again, breathless, no longer laughing.
(Order of the Phoenix, page 810)
Harry, at age fifteen, casts the Cruciatus Curse for the first time. An advanced piece of dark magic that is tricky to cast. Sure, it wasn't the best cast Crucio, but it did work.
It did land.
It worked enough for Bellatrix to stop laughing and start taking Harry seriously.
Harry raised the hawthorn wand beneath the cloak, pointed it at the old goblin, and whispered, for the first time in his life, “Imperio!”
A curious sensation shot down Harry’s arm, a feeling of tingling, warmth that seemed to flow from his mind, down the sinews and veins connecting him to the wand and the curse it had just cast.
(Deathly Hollows, page 452)
Like with the Cruciatus Curse, Harry succeeds in the Imperius curse on his first try (and the second try that happens immediately after). In general, Harry learns to cast most spells (even the advanced ones) incredibly quickly — like, on his first try. That's insane!
As Amycus spun around, Harry shouted, “Crucio!”
The Death Eater was lifted off his feet. He writhed through the air like a drowning man, thrashing and howling in pain, and then, with a crunch and a shattering of glass, he smashed into the front of a bookcase and crumpled, insensible, to the floor.
“I see what Bellatrix meant,” said Harry, the blood thundering through his brain, “you need to really mean it.”
(Deathly Hollows, page 502)
And he gets better over time, both with the Cruciatus Curse, as we see here and his fully corporeal Patronus which is considered an unbelievable feat for a fifteen-year-old:
“Your Patronus had a clearly defined form? I mean to say, it was more than vapor or smoke?”
“Yes,” said Harry, feeling both impatient and slightly desperate, “it’s a stag, it’s always a stag.”
“Always?” boomed Madam Bones. “You have produced a Patronus before now?”
“Yes,” said Harry, “I’ve been doing it for over a year —”
“And you are fifteen years old?”
“Yes, and —”
“You learned this at school?”
“Yes, Professor Lupin taught me in my third year, because of the —”
“Impressive,” said Madam Bones, staring down at him, “a true Patronus at that age . . . very impressive indeed.”
(Order of the Phoenix, page 141)
I agree Madam Bones, Harry is impressive and is Voldemort's equal magically. Harry isn't just Expelliarmos. he's clever and talented and very magically capable with every spell he tries his hand in.
#harry potter#harry potter thoughts#harry potter theory#hollowedtheory#hp theory#wizarding world#overthinking#harry james potter#harry potter analysis#I just really love harry james potter
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Imagine being Gibbs’ girl
He tries to keep his rough exterior, but he totally melts for you
He’ll definitely dance with you in the basement if you ask sweetly enough, and even if he pretends not to, he loves just swaying with you to some old country loves songs.
(This would definitely play through his radio)
Or kiss every one of you fingers if you come home from work and say they’re sore.
He will put you back in the car if you try to open your own door.
He’ll learn how to put your hair in a pony tail or a bun if you hurt your shoulder and can’t do it yourself. Plus he’ll keep brushing your hair for you, sitting snugly between his thighs and enjoying his warmth, long after you heal.
He sings to you if you wake up in the night reliving your darkest times in your dreams. He’ll wrap you up as tightly as he can in his strong arms, strong enough to remind you you’re safe with him, and whisper the words to any old song that pops into his head.
He loves to leave you little notes by the coffee pot or on your bedside table when he leaves before you do:
Have a good day, my love. See you tonight
- J
You agree not to marry early in the relationship
You’d both been around that block more than once, and it seemed like that fancy piece of paper just complicates things.
Of course, you’re exclusive to one another, but you just can’t bring yourselves to risk changing what you have by changing your last name. It seems so insignificant when you think of it that way.
Most of your neighbors and friends just assume you’re married, anyway. So when a letter arrives in the mail addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Gibbs, you aren’t surprised. It makes you smile to see it on paper, but nothing is going to change your minds on this.
His love language is 100% acts of service
He’ll unload the dishwasher, fold the laundry, bring you home fresh flowers for no reason at all, have dinner ready if he somehow makes it home before you do one day. He rarely lets you bring in any groceries or luggage. Even though he knows you are tough enough to literally take him down, he wouldn’t dare letting you carry something too heavy or inconvenient.
Any little thing he can do to brighten your day, he does.
In turn, the small acts you grant him, like taking his suit jackets to the dry cleaners, setting his shoes and thermos out for him before work, picking up a new book about boats, make him fall even more in love with you.
He makes you things
J will make you anything he thinks you might like. A wooden stand for your plants, a step stool when you mention that the bed is just a little bit high off the ground for you, shelves to proudly display your knick knacks, a sled for Christmas after you tell him you never had one as a child.
He’d even try his hand at a ukulele if you mention wanting to learn to play.
Of course he’s made boats named for Kelly and Shannon, but his newest project is adorned proudly with your name, sprawled across the hull in flowing letters.
His hobby turns into more than just that, it’s his way to show you how much he loves you, and you soak in everything he’ll give you.
He’ll use his jacket to shield you from the rain
Jethro is usually prepared for anything, but rain can sneak up on you. In that case, he’ll peel his jacket off and cover you as best as he can. Even if it means he’ll get soaked to the bone, he’ll make sure you’re covered a least a little bit more than he is.
He tones down his crazy driving for you
The first time you got in the car with him, you about passed out from an anxiety attack. You don’t want to be a backseat driver, so you just grin and bear it for a while, but he picks up on your discomfort pretty quickly.
He slows down, starts using his turn signal, and stops cutting people off, but every now and then, when it’s late and the roads are empty, he’ll take you for a high-speed cruise just to get your blood pumping.
He’s much touchier than you ever imagined
A strong hand on the small of your back, fingers ghosting over your exposed thigh, a reassuring squeeze to your shoulder when you’re uneasy, or just brushing against you to pass, even when there is plenty of room to spare.
Anything he can do to have his hands on you, he’ll do. You two are like a safety tether for each other, always there to make sure you don’t drift too far away.
As far as PDA goes, Jethro is pretty limited in what he’s willing to show the world, but he’ll always find a discreet way to connect himself to you. A brief brush of your pinkies, a quick kiss to your forehead, or a full-on embrace if you find a moment alone. Whatever it is, his touch still sets you on fire every time.
He is so gentle and fatherly to children
The two of you decided early on that you would avoid having kids. Given his past, you understand and agree to the arrangement. When you get together with your young nieces and nephews, though, Jethro turns into a total kid right along with them.
He’s quick to join in a game of cops and robbers, always quipping how it’s so much more fun being the bad guy, or plop down in the grass and find pictures in the clouds.
When someone takes a tumble or scrapes up their knee, though, he’s the first to scoop them up in his strong arms and hug the pain away. He’ll make them feel better with a story about when he hurt his knee, too, or how chicks dig scars (you always smack him playfully for that).
He makes a mean cup of coffee
You’d never thought of yourself as much of a coffee snob, but after tasting Jethro’s version, brewed slowly over the fire if time allows and mixed with the perfect amount of cream and sugar, you could never go back to any coffee shop again.
Same goes for his cooking. He doesn’t make much, but when he does, damn it is good.
“The secret ingredient is love,” he’ll joke to you, mocking your own phrase, and you’ll roll your eyes as the flavors envelop your tastebuds.
All in all, our man Jethro is basically the best partner you could ever ask for, and you love showing him how much you appreciate him.
Tagging some of my LJG lovers 💕
@instantnoooodles @daphne-bourne @museofbooks @ilovemark1951 it won’t let me tag you :( @yestwlightfan
#kdogreads#leroy jethro gibbs#jethro gibbs#jethro gibbs imagine#leroy jethro gibbs x reader#jethro gibbs x reader#gibbs x y/n#ncis gibbs#gibbs imagine#gibbs fluff#gibbs#gibbs x reader#ncis x reader#ncis imagine#ncis reader insert#reader insert#NCIS#ncis fluff#Spotify
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Fake it till you Make it | Part 21
Eddie wouldn’t necessarily call himself poor. Yes. He lived in a trailer park. But he wouldn’t necessarily call himself poor. He had money, he made bank on being weird for the women of Hawkins, he’d made an easy quick buck dealing back in his high school years, and he had many marketable skills that could get him some kind of menial labour kind of job.
Barback, auto repair, retail, manual labour, and of course, music among the few.
So he was never really poor enough to see moths fly from his wallet in place of cash, never poor enough to miss meals on purpose to save money, or to worry about where his next meal was going to come from while hunger gnawed at his gut.
But being able to just. Walk through a supermarket, without having to look at the price of things before putting them into the cart?
That was a level of financial security that he’d not yet attained, and yet there he was. After being given a second cart for himself, and being assured that he could get anything he thought he and Steve might want while John would grab things for himself and Lynda in his own cart, he was set loose with the simple instruction to meet at the checkouts, John would wait for him if he ended up there first and vice versa.
Eddie didn’t think he’d be finishing first though. There were options. He had options. He didn’t have to look at prices, he didn’t have to grab the cheapest things on the shelf, or look for things reduced in price cause they were about to expire.
He didn’t even have to do mental mathematics for taxes because it didn’t matter!
The only thing he had to worry about, the only thing that made Eddie completely certain in the fact that he’d be making John wait for him at the checkouts, was figuring out what Steve might want to eat without making it way too obvious that he didn’t actually know Steve all that well at all.
He was really starting to wish that he’d just sided with Steve about the pizza.
Okay so, contrary to popular belief given his whole. Keg King persona back in high school. Steve Harrington… couldn’t hold his drink.
At least not anymore. He couldn’t even do a hand stand anymore.
Before, he’d been a killer at it, he could drink and drink and drink, he was like a fish with it, king of the drinking games, lording it over the popular crowd as if it were something to actually be proud of, as if it were a genuine accomplishment to be able to out drink your peers.
But he didn’t drink anymore. At least not nearly as often as he used to.
Alcohol was expensive, and he worked minimum wage.
The most he could do was a six pack from the gas station that he and Robin would split out on a picnic blanket in his back yard, staring up at the sky with nothing but the glow of the pool lights to dim the stars above, laughing about their failed conquests and making plans neither of them could really afford to see through.
Back to the point, Steve, and Lynda Harrington, had found ol Mags’ stash of cheaper reds.
Not quite the big bucks bottles lining the shelves of the wine cellar which Steve, despite them being his now thank you very much grandparents and their ridiculously generous will, wouldn’t touch, but definitely heavy hitting enough to lighten any terrible lows that may have lingered after their earlier spat.
Which led them to their current predicament. Laying on the rug in the living room in front of a crackling fireplace, two glasses of wine between them, and two half empty bottles.
One each of course, they weren’t going to share just one, what were they? Poor?
Steve, feeling curious about a thing that’d come up once as a small, throwaway thought, now the only thing he could think about as he stared at the wooden beams that made up the ceiling and having zero inhibitions stopping him from asking it, so he asked, “How come you never brought up Robin?”
“Hm?” His mother turned to him, cheeks flushed a warm pink, she never could hold her alcohol, he’d gotten that skill from his dad, however fleeting his use of it had been. “Your friend?”
“Yeah, Robbie’s great, why’d you never… why’d you never try’n set me up with Robbie, wh’ts wrong with Robbie?” He didn’t think she meant to laugh quite as condescendingly as she had, but it definitely sounded like that as she burst out laughing. “Tried every girl but Robbie—s’not funny!”
“Oh, sweetheart, my little baby boy, Eddie… Eddie is lovely. You’re not… not thinking of leaving him for Robin are you?” That slight infliction on her name, what was wrong with Robin?! And then— “B’cause, cause… Jesus—baby, sweetie, you’re not— she’s not—it’s not… hm.” She looked at her almost empty glass as if it’d offended her, then placed it down to look at him again “It’s s’not my place… if you don’t know, s’not my place to tell you!”
“What do you know?” He pushed himself up onto his rear, shaking his head for a moment to clear up the spinny feeling that followed him moving “I—I know everything, Robbie tells me everythin but you… you don’t—what do you know about Robbie?”
“Pfft, sweetheart if you want a chance with Robin then, I’m sorry you’re definitely not aware of everything and that’s surprising, does she know you’re… you know… safe? To talk to I mean? You seemed so close I thought she’d have told you!” Granted, half of the words she was saying were slurred, but not slurred enough that he couldn’t make them out, and they were ringing all the alarm bells his brain could possibly conjure.
What did his mother know, and how had she found it out? “I don’t, I just—I was just wondering why you never—I thought maybe you didn’t think she cut it or something stupid, she’s told me everythin but that doesn’t explain why you know… or what you know, what do you know?”
And now his mother was up, sitting up straight doing the exact same thing as him, shaking off that little spinny spin the world decided to do as she sat up too fast. “Robin is perfect, Steven. Truly a one of a kind, kind of young woman.” The slurring had reduced the more serious she’d become, as if the alcohol couldn’t quite touch the severity of what they were now talking about “she also doodles quite obscene things on her shoes. I saw them in the rack not the last time we were home, the time before it? When she stayed the night? Those ratty old canvas things she wore covered in marker scribbles… most young ladies don't doodle breasts on their shoes, and they certainly don’t write about going 'down' on someone’s sister… I… figured it out. I also know that this isn’t something we should be talking about without her being aware of it.” Or at all, really.
She was right. As usual, his mother was right, he even knew she was right about the pizza, he always broke out a little after Tony’s, a few spots would always appear around his mouth that’d drive him insane, so he knew she was right about the groceries too, but yet…
It was so hard to admit that she was right.
“She uh… she was talking about what you guys were doin before we came out here y’know?” But if his mother knew about Robin then… maybe it wasn’t bad to talk about it. His mom regarded him with a curious expression but didn’t ask him to elaborate, didn’t stop him from elaborating either though “the matchmaking thing? I was complaining about it, cause… y’know… I had someone already” no he didn’t, but the excuse of ‘they all sucked’ probably wouldn’t go down very well. “And she said she wished you’d try setting her up with someone…” it was probably a joke but then…
Robin had been struggling.
The uncertainty in approaching queer dating in a small town like Hawkins was… scary. It was terrifying. They were only getting older, there’d only be so many more chances to experience things and trying to experience things later in life while being a big ol bundle of inexperienced anxiety?
Not fun, Steve didn’t want that for Robin. He wanted her to experience things. To be confident in herself because he loved her. He wanted nice things for her. And nice things involved kissing pretty ladies.
“Really?” Oh that little lightbulb, the devious little twinkle in her eyes, her passion reignited, aimed at a much more deserving and probably receptive target “Oh! Sweetie she should have said, second we get home, give her my personal number, okay? It’s up to her to call me but I would— I have a rolodex of names, an it’ll only the best for—for Robin.” Lynda would find that girl a hot sugar mama even if it killed her.
“You’d do that for her?” Steve put a hand to his chest, touched in a way he couldn’t really describe.
“Oh sweetheart, of course I’d do that for her, she makes you so happy, you just… you light up whenever you’re around her an I know it’s not cause you’re dating her because, unless there’s another conversation we need to be having, you’re really not her type. I know she makes you happy. And I know—I know I don’t say it very often—” her voice was wibbling, and oh boy if she was going to cry, then he’d start crying and they’d be a mess “but I’d—" her voice cracked, oh no “I’d move mountains for—for anything—anyone that makes you happy, sweetheart.”
And that was how Eddie and John found them ten minutes later after shaking the snow from their bodies, grocery bags in hand. The mother and son duo bawling together on the carpet, two bottles into the reds, wondering a very simple “what the fuck...?” voiced by a very confused Eddie.
#PirateWrites#FakeItTillYouMakeItFiclet#Steddie#No Upside Down AU#Fake Dating AU#Robbies gonna get HOOKED UP when they get home#i promise
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Hi everyone! We're here with the long awaited post on our newest bachelor, Simoun. We know you've all been abuzz with questions about him so we hope to answer some of that in this deep dive into his creation. This post is in lieu of our usual Wednesday devlogs as we've been writing this over the span of several weeks, and was co-authored, edited, and reviewed by Tobias, Jude, ToyboxToonz, Primarvelous, and Sauce. The above image was drawn by @toyboxtoonz.
You can read the full post for free on Patreon, or click the readmore to see it all!
Personally speaking, some of my concerns since Simoun's debut are thoughts like "Do people think I'm making SnaccPop Studios push an agenda?" and "Do people think I'm going through a checklist while making new characters?" It's made it difficult for us to write this quickly because this is quite personal to myself and the rest of the sensitivity consultation team on the DachaBo team.
Concept to Creation
The story of DachaBo begins way before SnaccPop Studios itself was even a concept (that's Sauce's story to tell though). Early Patreon art of Simoun exists from November 2022, back before I was signed on to manage the Patreon and any other projects besides Sunny Day Jack. Sauce had some ideas laying around for several other characters in the DachaBo universe that didn't make it into the proof-of-concept demo:
I dug up an old draft for the DachaBo cat character we teased and it featured a story concept where the cat character was originally a female DachaBo character, referencing the original female design. And overtime he got tired of how he was being treated and decided to change his own self to reflect who he wanted to be, not the sycophants who collected the toys and whatnot
...
It was shelved because I didnt have the means to sensitivity check it
The designs are half cooked is all but he was supposed to be Indian ethnicity coded for no other reason than I've never seen a character like that
One thing that's important to note is that there definitely are Indian folks who are gender diverse (see Hijra on Wikipedia for a quick primer on one of the traditionally recognized nonbinary genders in South Asia) so it's not a novel concept by any means, but it's also not very common in media whatsoever.
Why The Long Wait?
One of the other contributing reasons as to why Sauce wasn't able to do much with the concept at the time is because we didn't have a VA for him confirmed yet, as I explained in May:
One thing that's rather unique to SnaccPop Studios in all of my experience as a game developer is the fact that all of our series involve coordinating with Voice Actors from the start, which means we need to take the VAs themselves into account when making characters. Adding another layer of complexity in hiring is the fact that SnaccPop Studios is a strictly Erotic Adult brand focusing on masculine love interests, and even if we focus more on the softcore, there's still the unfortunate stigma that any 18+ work has when attached to your name. All of these contributing factors make the potential talent pool that much smaller. This isn't to make excuses: I know SnaccPop Studios can do better on this front. While we can't make changes to some of the existing series' main cast (we don't want to put people out of a role they've been promised), we will do better moving forward to incorporate more diverse characters into our future titles, and that's a pledge
In the field of voice acting, it's best practice to cast actors with similar backgrounds to the character they're voicing, particularly for characters from marginalized populations (ethnicity, culture, gender, etc.), because it's a recurring issue in all professions where marginalized folks are regularly turned down for employment or career opportunities. You don't have to look far for instances where other voice directors failed to cast the proper talent for a character, even in the AAA sphere where they ought to have the resources to be able to find the proper talent; at SnaccPop, we wanted to avoid that situation at all costs.
Finding Simoun's Voice
So we had to confirm a VA first before we could do anything. Sauce, Reece, and I all tried to put private ads out for a trans masc POC (any ethnicity with dark skin) actor for a R18 game, which was largely met with silence at first, then responded to by folks who didn't fit the role in a full capacity (many only hit one or two of the criteria we laid out, some of them none at all). And it's not hard to imagine why: it's common knowledge that the majority of erotic works often fetishize marginalized people who are otherwise underrepresented in mainstream media. Things such as skin color, body type, hair color, age, etc. are treated as traits to be objectified, and on the off chance that queer folks or people of color might see themselves in porn… it's usually not for the most flattering or empowering of reasons. How could we, an exclusively Adults-only studio, convince someone who isn't familiar with us that we wanted to make something for people like them rather than something that turns them into mere masturbating material?
We were almost about to give up on the Catboy until I decided to take a chance on contacting a VA whom I hadn't had any formal and proper interactions with before. I'd been a fan of his work and knew him from an audition he sent in from a previous game I had worked on, but he knew me solely by name at best since we were following each other on Twitter. Still, it was a lead, and after chewing my nails for half a day, I shot off a message to Soren Viloria.
And what do you know? He said he'd give it a shot as his first NSFW role.
Naming the Lad
Soren is a Filipino VA, and despite the fact that I myself seem to be mistaken as Filipino by other Asians quite regularly, I'm actually not as well-versed in that culture as I ought to be.
There's actually a reason why we were so secretive with Simoun's name for a while: he didn't have one yet, so internally we just kept calling him "the Catboy." We wanted to pick a culture-appropriate name for him, something that was meaningful: Soren initially suggested "Siopao" as it was a common cat name (it's a type of Filipino Steamed Bun, so think of how many pets you've seen who have names like Cupcake or Nacho Supreme), but that didn't seem serious enough for a tsundere catboy like him. A few days later, Soren did a little research on a few well-known characters from Philippine media/culture that fit the bill a bit better:
Elías from the Philippine Revolution novel Noli Me Tángere (a required reading in the Philippines). Cat may like his radical tendencies for revolution and his deep, devoted connections.
Simoun from Noli's sequel, El filibusterismo. Holds revolutionary values similar to Elías, but far less noble and more of a loner. Violent at times, and will do what it takes to get his way.
Panday/Flavio, a very popular hero. Part of his charm is that he doesn't have special powers, but took matters into his own hands and forged a magical blade. Has been portrayed in both 'cool' and comedic ways.
Ricardo "Cardo" from the Philippines' longest-running TV drama Ang Probinsyano. Just a cool action hero dude who cares about family, but is also very ambitious and angy.
Seeing as how we already had an Elias Gallagher, Simoun seemed to be the perfect fit, and the name stuck pretty easily.
Simoun's Boundaries
Now that Simoun had a name, we were able to talk about him more seriously beyond the simple "tsundere cat" tropes. You've all already met Gil Finnegan, who we originally brought into SnaccPop Studios to handle the narrative design for DachaBo but was then onboarded to help with Sunny Day Jack, and those of you in the Patreon Discord server are familiar with our mods Tobias and Jude; along with me and Soren Viloria, that brought the grand total of openly trans masculine members on the team.
We all talked about our personal experiences as trans masc/AFAB people, what things we rarely saw reflected in both mainstream and indie media, things we wanted to see more of. Something we all agreed that was difficult to find was trans masculine folks in sexually dominant roles in erotic media, whether that was live video, audio, writing, art, or a combination thereof; there was only a handful of series we could count on our fingers as far as sexually explicit content that featured trans masculine people in roles that weren't exclusively submissive/bottoms, and the majority of us had already seen those or at least heard of them before (ie. Gummy and the Doctor and Sasha From The Gym were prominent ones). Either discovering this content was difficult due to Search Engine Optimization favoring depictions of trans feminine folks, or it simply didn't exist.
All of this, along with the backstory that Sauce had for Simoun, led us to determine that Simoun would be adverse to submissive roles in intimate situations. Simoun isn't the type to want to be penetrated either due to previous trauma surrounding his gender. Bear in mind that this isn't meant to imply or suggest that there is only one "acceptable" sexual preference for trans masculine folks, nor is Simoun meant to represent all of trans masculinity; he may be our first trans masculine character but certainly isn't the last, as we hope to feature more types of characters at SnaccPop Studios.
As an aside, it should be noted that the trend of erotic trans feminine content being more readily available doesn't necessarily mean that trans women have more positive representation per se; for every kinky piece of art created by trans feminine folks out there, there could be ten more works that fetishize and objectify their bodies. We probably don't need to tell you about the common derogatory slurs that have been used to refer to them; trans feminine and trans masculine people deal with varying levels and types of transphobia as well as situations that oversexualize (or even undersexualize) them, and it's important to focus on content that doesn't strip them of their autonomy.
There actually was a period of time between the release of his concept art after Soren was onboarded where the team observed comments both on Patreon and in the Discord regarding Simoun, and we discussed how we could avoid having people try to ship Bo and Simoun together; because Simoun hasn't had bottom surgery of any kind, we wanted to ensure that tokophobia (fear of pregnancy) or dysphoria wouldn't become a thing for any of us involved in the team or for our trans masculine Patrons. It was a bit of a chicken or the egg situation, trying to keep up with the evolving comments about Simoun to try and anticipate what people might accidentally say.
Debut Day Thoughts, & Moving Forward
We were quite happy with the general reception everyone had with Simoun, and we're excited to see so many people taking a liking to Simoun after his reveal. SnaccPop Studios has always strived to provide inclusive and diverse stories for those who don't often get represented in media, much less NSFW media, and the team was quite elated to see folks who were just as happy to see Simoun.
We hope that the love and care we put into building Simoun has shone through in this post and will continue to shine as we write more of him for DachaBo, because we're just getting started.
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Like I Can - Pt. 4
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1.7k
“Break up with Gary.” You say. It falls from your lips instead of everything else you may have chosen to say first.
Melissa looks at you, still laid across her lap. An eyebrow raising at you. “Tell me why.” She softly answers.
You sit up, the distance between your faces closing until it is scant. Your hand reaches to softly caress her cheek with her fingers. “Because I want to kiss you for everything you just said but I’m not doing anything until I know you’re mine.”
Melissa sucks in a breath, her eyes steadfast on yours. “I am yours, Y/N.” She all but whispers in answer.
“Prove it.” You answer. Your hand moves from her cheek to gently grasp at her jaw to keep her from surging forward. You see your own want clearly mirrored in her eyes. You want nothing more than to let her close the distance and properly prove everything she said. Except one thing.
“Break up with Gary.” You repeat. “Then, get back to me.”
You move to get up, to leave for your own apartment. It would be safer that way. Minimize temptation. Melissa’s arms wrap around you though.
“Stay.” She says softly, her chin pressing to your shoulder. “I’ll be good, swear.”
In spite of yourself, you laugh. Your hand reaches back to gently brush fingers to Mel’s cheek. “Somehow, I doubt that.”
“Still…stay. Please? It’s the weekend and I’d rather spend it with you. I promise I’ll take care of Gary Monday.”
“Please don’t say it that way. It just makes me feel like you’re gonna take your bat to him and they’re gonna find him in a river.”
“No. You still don’t have bail money.” Melissa shrugs after a beat. “And Gary ain’t pissed me off.”
Lightly, you reach behind you to hit her shoulder. “Fine, I’ll stay.” You mutter your agreement. As if she really had to twist your arm about it. She definitely didn’t.
In return you get a squeeze of the arms around you that trapped you to her lap. Plus, another hour or so of Melissa keeping you there as she finishes her show. When you begin to feel sleep tugging at you again, she ushers you from the couch to her room. A pair of pajamas all but placed in your hand before she’s fetching an unopened toothbrush for you to use. That is placed on the clothes still resting on your palms before she’s gently guiding you by the shoulders into the bathroom.
“And now, I leave you to it so I keep my promise of being good.” She teases with a smirk, though she does bend the rules just a little by kissing your cheek before she goes.
By the time you’re crawling beneath Melissa’s covers you aren’t certain you’ll be awake once she finishes getting ready for bed herself. Your eyes are heavy and you're draped in soft clothes. Surrounded by the covers that smell like Melissa.
You blink when you feel a shift next to you. A soft shush from Melissa slipping into bed next to you when she notices. Still, you’re shifting just enough to get your arms around her. You can’t help the content hum you let loose when she returns your embrace easily. You shift a bit more into her side, drifting back to sleep with your head on her shoulder.
You spend the rest of the weekend with Melissa. Making meals together. Even though most of the time there’s something involved that Melissa is teaching you. Some of what she does you already know, but you never say so. It’s more fun to learn it again from her. Plus, you could listen to her go on about cooking as much as you could anything else. Especially with her passion leading the way.
You offer to help her grade come Sunday night though Melissa only waves you off. You settle against her side, pretty much how the two of you have been all weekend. You’ve stolen a book from one of her shelves, paging through it and blindly holding your hand out every once in a while. You take the ones she’s finished grading, forming a pile in your own lap. At least, you reason, you’re helping her stay organized.
You intended to leave that evening, even if it was a little late. Melissa manages to convince you to stay again. Reasoning that you can part in the morning when you both leave for work. You’re helpless to argue, especially when she adds at least then she won’t be worried about how late it is that you’re traveling. So you stay, a third night curled up next to her in her bed.
Reluctantly, you do separate the next morning. Melissa promises to call you that evening as she walks you to your car to leave her driveway first. You don’t mean to but your brain on autopilot guides your hands to her shoulders. Before either of you realize, you’ve leaned into her space and kissed her softly goodbye. There’s a pause when you pull away, as you realize what you’ve done. You’re not sorry, certainly, but you had intended to withhold from kissing her at all until Gary was out of the picture.
“You alright?” She asks softly, her hands on your cheeks. She must read the small bout of panic you’re having about skipping ahead suddenly despite the last few days.
“I’m fine.” You reassure, smiling to back it up.
“Will you still be fine if I ask to do that again?” She questions, a smirk upon features.
You roll your eyes but tug her closer and kiss her one more time. “Damn you and being irresistable, Schemmenti.” You mutter against her lips before you pull away completely.
“Says you.” She throws back, winking when you look back to her once you’re in your car. “Drive safe, yeah? I’ll talk to you tonight, Hon.”
“Talk to you tonight.” You confirm just before she shuts your door for you. You wait until she’s about to get into her car and looks back at you. You blow her a kiss with a wink of your own before you pull out of her driveway.
It’s only once she’s made it to Abbott, and gotten most of her morning situated and ready, that Melissa thinks properly about Gary. She sends a text that they need to talk, as soon as he’s free to. She wants to get it over with. The sooner she does, the sooner she can focus on the two of you.
It isn’t until she’s walking into the teacher’s lounge at lunch that she realizes her mistake. She blinks once or twice at the extra, non teacher or staff, body in the room. On reflex alone she’s returning Gary’s hug.
“There ya are!” He’s greeting her with a large grin on his face. Melissa wonders how she liked him enough to start dating now. In your words, Gary is fine. Nice enough. As she stands across from him, though, she’s wondering why that was enough after the last weekend spent with you. “You said we needed to talk?”
Melissa ignores the looks from the others in the room, especially Barb raising an eyebrow at her. There isn’t an adult alive that doesn’t know what that phrase usually means in a relationship. Unless they were in denial. Like Gary kind of seems to be as he looks at her expectantly.
She sighs. She wants to get it over with, and she might have realized her feelings for Gary are next to nothing compared to the ones for you. Still, she isn’t trying to be cruel. Doing this in such a public way, in front of the other teachers, it seems cruel. After a moment she waves it off. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I figured it out.” She mutters.
“So, we’re still good for dinner Thursday?” Gary checks, still smiling.
Melissa does her best to return his smile but even she knows it’s muted. “Yeah, sounds good. Thursday.” She agrees as she slips into her usual seat next to Barbara.
After a few minutes, Gary says his goodbyes. He kisses Melissa’s head on the way out. Only because she hadn’t turned to him to kiss him properly like she usually would.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Melissa grumbles at Barbara staring at her.
“Something’s going on. What is it?” Barbara tries to press the redhead sitting next to her. In Melissa fashion, the pushing only makes her push it away even further.
“You’re ridiculous, Barb. Nothin’s goin’ on.”
“So you are going to dinner with Gary Thursday? Because it quite seemed like you didn’t want to.”
“Yes.” Melissa repeats with a light glare. “I’m going to dinner Thursday.” She states pointedly. If Barbara or the others still lingering in the break room notice how annoyed she sounds, they don’t say. Probably knowing not to say anything is for their own good.
You're late leaving your job that evening. Which means you miss Melissa’s call, unfortunately. You’re setting your things down once you walk in the door, preparing to call her back. You notice she left a voicemail so you quickly hit the button to have it play. Your phone held to your ear with your shoulder as you made your way to your bedroom to change from the clothes you’d had to steal from Mel for today.
You stop short, pausing in the doorway to your bedroom. Your hand reaches to grasp your phone properly. You quickly stop the voicemail playing. You don’t want to listen to the rest of it. You quickly dial Mel’s number, pressing your phone back to your ear.
“Hey.” She answers after only a few rings.
“Hey my ass.” You return, your anger starting to simmer. “You’re going to dinner with Gary? You said you’d deal with all of that today.”
“I was going to! I told him we needed to talk but then he had to take that as a sign to have the conversation in the break room in front of everybody! I’m not tryna embarrass or humiliate him, Y/N. It woulda been pretty fucked if I had done it then.”
“It’s pretty fucked you didn’t, Mel!” You toss back. You know, on some level, you’re being unreasonable. She’s trying to do a good thing. A kind thing. Yet you can’t help but feel like it’s an excuse to have you both.
“Y/N, I’m sorry. I told you as soon as I could so you wouldn’t be surprised. It’ll be done with Thursday, I promise.”
“Then call me Friday.” You snap, hanging up before you can hear her say anything else.
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I HAD THIS DRAFTS AAA 😭😭😭😭 (It's happiness).
Okay some clarifications, y/n in this story will be an apprentice witch, she won't be one of the ones who created the heroes, also I will call Shadow Milk Cookie Blueberry Milk Cookie since I think they had that kinda name before, I don't think for example Silent Salt was called that before that corruption right?
:ﾟ･*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:
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Part 1. The Tower and the Witch.
"What story do you want me to tell you?" Asked the older cookie to a group of little ones gathered around him. "The one about the hero and the witch!" One of the little ones replied. "Yes! I like that one!" Replied another, finally the old man gave up and smiled. "Okay, but no interrupting me this time."
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The heroes of Earthbread, the closest thing the cookies had to deities besides their creators the witches; we all know the story, five heroes created and blessed by them, gaining powers beyond the comprehension of any common cookie. For example we have the cookie holder of the virtue of knowledge; Blueberry Milk Cookie, he spent day and night in his research, looking for answers to the strangest questions he could think of, which led him to discover the Witches' Banquet.
At first he thought it was just a legend, something parents told their children to obey them; "If you're good maybe the witches will take you with them and invite you to the Banquet." He heard a lot of parents say already, so it wasn't crazy to think that it was indeed a legend, but as the days passed in his research he found several clues that indicated that it did in fact exist! This did nothing but feed the curiosity of our hero, he wanted to know more about his creators and get answers to several questions; Why the cookies existed and why he and his friends were the ones chosen to carry such power were two of them.
Without wasting any more time he waited until the next date in which the legends said that the Banquet took place, when that awaited moment arrived he immediately went to the place where it was supposed to happen, he found something? Yes, a somewhat high tower that seemed abandoned at first sight, the smoke coming out of the chimney was barely noticeable to the eye. With a little effort and using his skills to climb the tower he managed to get to the window of the tower and take a little look inside, wow indeed it was big, bigger than when he was in his bigger form so it was definitely a witch tower and the best of all was that everything was perfectly taken care of, it looked so tidy and so pretty that he felt kinda bad to enter it uninvited, everything was clear until he heard a sound of something moving slightly, when he looked in the direction where that sound came from he saw a.. a witch? Yes, that was it, even though she was lying on a table, her clothes could be seen, it was just as the books described her, an apron and a pointed hat, besides being quite big.
Carefully he approached, using those shelves full of books to hide himself, he even had to dodge fallen things and jump through the spaces between shelves, adventure was definitely not his thing; he would have liked to stay in his own tower to do his writing, although science and knowledge require sacrifice and hard work! Or well, that's what he thought. As he approached the sleeping (or so he hoped) witch, he noticed a potions book on the table, there came instructions on how to make a love potion, huh- that was weird, witches were supposed to be the creators of their entire species, he never thought that on top of that they also created potions; that made them even stranger to his point of view.
As he got closer and closer he finally got as close as he could, being mere centimeters away from that big figure, it seems that the aroma of blueberries that he gave off did not pass unnoticed though, because little by little she began to wake up, with worry he took a few steps back and hid behind an inkwell.
"Mhh.. What time is it?" He heard that witch say in that tone of someone waking up after a long nap, as he stood up he noticed that she was actually taller than what he had seen from the window and that gave him a little shiver; in the stories they always talked about how witches as well as they could be merciful they were still like goddesses to them, they shouldn't be angered. He considered his options for a few minutes; either he stayed hidden and searched among those millions of books for the answers he was looking for or he made himself present and asked directly, because both options had several ups and downs, for example staying hidden and searching in books was the idea he liked the best since he would stay hidden and safe, but the downside was that he would have to look in millions of books too big even if he increased his size and he would also have to be careful not to be seen, on the other hand if he made himself present there were two possible results: either he was accepted and his doubts were solved or he would be crumbled by the witch.... Umm, difficult decisions indeed.
Finally he decided, he would show himself to the witch and hope for the best outcome. With a sigh, he came out of hiding, eyes closed and waiting for the witch's reaction... Nothing happened-, when he opened one eye he realized that the witch was no longer there; she was now in the other part of the tower, looking for something on a shelf, well that gave him time to think what she would say "Good morning! I'm Blueberry Milk Cookie, the cookie who possesses the virtue of knowledge." Umm no, too formal... "Hi, I came into your house through the window I hope I'm not disturbing you." That would make him sound like a weirdo- "Miss witch I demand answers!" No, just no! It was too much pressure to do something so soon. He seemed to take too long to decide as he heard the witch's voice again. "Can I help you?" She sounded as confused as he was at that strange interaction as it was as if a divine being was talking to you so casually like that. "Oh! I mean... I, umm, can you?" Shit, that was not a good first impression. "I mean.. Yes! You can and I'd appreciate it if you would!"
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:ﾟ･*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:
A/N: I personally imagine he looks like this before corruption:
(IF SOMEONE KNOWS THE ARTIST PLS TELL ME)
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AHH I was the anon from the Bear!Ko ask ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ I adore it so much like I’m kicking my feet and twirling my hair your ideas are CHEFS KISS AND IM GLAD YOU LIKED THE PROMPTT
Definitely not excited that you’re considering more hybrid stuff.. TEEHEE ʕ •́؈•̀ ₎
BUT YEAH JUST THOUGHT TO DROP SOMETHING NEW CUZ WHY NOT! Maybe Ko being deployed on a mission to some wild terrain, having to camp out on the grounds for a while by himself. Reader taking interest in the behemoth and toying with him until he finds out they’re a fae or nymph
Or a game of hide and seek.. in the dark.. with him.. maybe even a wolf!ko
ONCE AGAIN ID LOVE TO SEE YOU WORK UR MAGIC ON THESE IDEAS (｡♥‿♥｡)
hi, 🧸!! working on something with a lycanthrope Kö at the moment, but this is… well it is something! i adore the idea of König with a cute (insatiable) nymph!! definitely give @cookiepie111’s Drink From The Leche of Sirens a read if you haven’t already. <3
content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. fae nonsense (reader is a tree nymph), vague smut.
It isn’t that he ever intended to be here, not really. Simple surveillance, Fender had told him. Any knowing soldier would recognize the equipment that did not even need hands to tend to it, the cameras that should be set and monitored, and yet there were none in place here— just König, a loaded gun, and the stillness of the forest that seemed to stretch ever onward.
There’s been a lapse for the past week, with Kortac’s most adept at retrieving information out seeking just that, off with their radios constantly abuzz and adrenaline running rampant through their veins.
There’s an envy harbored somewhere in the back of his skull, twittering and hissing when he thinks on it too much… shelved for an uncharacteristic mistake to be left here amongst plants and scattered animal sounds, a temporary solace that would be ripped away when something new came through the chain of command; an overabundance of the very things he would care to think less about.
König hasn’t seen another person in days, not out here, tracking a vehicle carrying supposed smuggled weapons. There are no tire tracks, not even air traffic passing above: only gloom, loneliness, and the chill of early spring.
Then the abandoned house, where he takes refuge. It’s dated: the furniture all in various states of disarray, shattered porcelain about the kitchen and vaulted ceilings so high he doesn’t even need to bother with ducking to cross from room to room. It’s old on the exterior, stately, with vines creeping up its walls to reach the warmest height to bloom. Though internally, it is clear the place has not been left to rot for long: no loose boards, no holes in the ceiling or floor, just seemingly preserved somehow, as though time itself had come to still.
He doesn’t mind the daily patrols through the forest, the pensive stalking and creeping to find any hint of what he was after. Even through the night, when sleep forgets to lure him in for warmth and comfort amidst the pollen and silence, the walking never seems to grate on him.
There are lights, often, amongst the trees, faint pulses of glowing white that dissipate the moment his gaze sweeps over them. He’s read the fairytales as a child, even witnessed Conor get so drunk once that he shared his own tales of the ‘wee folk’, but König would feel a fool to believe any of that at face value. Most of his own kind were not interested in him, shying away with laughter or pitying gazes the moment he approached, so why would anything else be drawn to a man who could never quite scrub the blood from his fingernails or keep a conversation from spinning out into silence and uneasy glances?
It’s during one of these nightly walks that he first sees her, a vision bathed beneath the milky glow of the moon, ethereal, yet still nothing short of a proper blessing from the earth. Despite the distance from his path to her own, her body looks soft, bare and gentle. The growing thorns and clusters of ivy do not scrape her, only gently pull aside as she walks, tender and swaying like the petals sprung up from the plants for little fingers ghost over.
He only thinks that, assuredly, he’s lost his mind. The vision fades away when she looks at him, curls her lips into a smile… and then it is all gone. She leaves not a trace, no footprints indented into the soil he knows he had only just watched her tread. The flowers he saw her pull into being have vanished, too. All that remains is a dulled aura of dread, a strange thing that he has not felt in years, if ever at all.
König does not think of the woman until she appears again, during the day amidst the leaves of a sprawling sycamore. She lies against the bark, body resting over a healthy branch where she sleeps in a position so demure it sets his heart ablaze. The breeze caresses her hair, something he wishes to feel beneath his own fingertips; it whistles over her bare skin while the sun bathes her in rays of gold, filtered out through pinprick partings in the leaves, begs, pleads for him to touch. Forbidden fruit, too lofty to touch, too dainty for ash and blood.
He only walks away, carries on with the focus of his mission, reminds himself of every time that he’s sought some semblance of companionship and how those escapades had all simmered down to nothing but taunting echoes for sleepless nights. There was no need for any more ghosts, not even the pretty ones.
With nothing else in sight, he returns to that house where time halts and loses himself to want; swallows dry when he frees himself of his buckle and pulls out his growing erection. A release and an expelling of memory all in one.
He thinks of her, of her graceful walk amidst the darkened woods, of the way she lay, perfectly unscathed and beautiful, unknowing of any thing that plagues him, scatters from his grim expression right down to his very marrow. The imaginings… he would never speak of them, perhaps would only have the information pried from him that he thought of her smile when he spilled himself into his palm, but only if she came to beg for it with a voice he imagines must be tree sticky and sweet like warmed honey. Only if she came for him.
There lies a meadow just past an abrupt opening in the tree line, small and subdued by outstretched branches that curl over the grass and wildflowers still yet to bloom. No chill lingers here, as though summer stretches over the little glade and settles atop it with its warmth, masks even the little pond that does not seem to carry the same frosted panes of ice that the others he had seen do. There is fruit, puny red berries and hefty pears causing their limbs to bend, gently set them down for the earth and all of the animals roaming about to eat.
And he knows he’s stumbled upon her home.
He finds his voice when she peeks at him from behind the trunk, wide-eyed and curious with the softest curl about her lips, playful but tentative.
“Hallo,” he whispers, raising his gloved hand as if to wave, but curling his fingers into his palm instead. He’s horribly uncertain, caught between the alarming thought that he’s dealing with some perturbing nudist or something… else entirely.
“Hello,” she says, almost shy as she unveils herself from behind the tree, takes a step toward him with a tender look in her eyes and a long draw of breath. Sets his nerves at ease with her silent admittance that she, too, at least seemed wary.
König immediately tells her why he’s here, not in full detail, sparing the poor doe the tedium and the confidential bits that would likely only make her head spin, and then… he mentions how he had seen her, how the forest seemed to yield to her whims, her dancing beneath the moon that appeared to shine only for her. He gives her a curious look, undetectable beneath the darkened hood, pleads for her to explain in his own silent sort of way.
“I have seen you too,” she says instead, curling her arms behind her back, pushing out her chest, and… he doesn’t think to ask any further.
She’s the loveliest thing that he has ever seen or felt: places herself right into his lap when she guides him down to the grass. There’s sap on her fingertips when she presses them to his lips, curiously grazing them over his mouth as he speaks to her about the forest, a forest he’s already deemed to be her own, obscure princess that she was. She giggles when he dares to lick over each intruding digit, even gives a shaky, soft sigh when he suckles at one.
The nymph whispers things into his ear that he’s never heard before: things about each sprouting plant, of other things that hide away in the shade beneath branches and how they had all seen him too, about the earth and life and softer secrets about her beloved tree. Home and love without ever daring to speak words so simple. She does not ask about the dreadful things he does not think about, only lies back in the grass when he praises her beauty and the lovely notes of her voice.
He thinks for a moment that he should not touch her, should not have her grace wasted on something like him, but she rises up only enough to kiss him through the hood and he finds himself tugged down to tickling blades of grass and his mind finally does quiet.
She cradles him close as he claims her love for his own, steals sap from her lips and follows her sighs to a comforting oblivion. Her hands find his neck, his shoulders to offer gentle touches, tracing patterns like the intricate twisting of vines against his flesh all while he praises their union, her sweetness.
He doesn’t know how long he’s spent with her, the day seems to to stretch on for an eternity with the sun high above, but when he wakes… he is back inside of the old, quiet house, lying in the bed he knows with a certainty that he’s never even touched. Fender’s voice is calling to him over the radio, clipped and demanding for a report, one that proves nothing at all, a barrage of words filled with wonder and bliss with no intel on the mission.
And König isn’t shocked by the leave he’s given once he does return to base the following day. Three weeks time would be just enough to clear his head, regain his focus, pull money from his account to purchase that lonesome old house in the forest. He couldn’t bare the thought of never seeing such an angel again, never hearing the soft chittering of her voice or being blessed with the feeling of her beneath him, intertwined like the vines she so loved.
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Oh, Kylar headcanons. Here I go.
First time I’m even writing about anyone else, but Whitney. Happens once in a blood moon. Kylar’s actually how I even discovered DOL in the first place. Saw art of them online, thought “wow, what a cute looking girl”, sought them out first in the game.
—Biggest whiplash I ever got. I mean, I knew they were a yandere, still crazy as fuck. Doesn’t make them any less cuter though, even if they probably shower once a month.
content warning! : knife play, mentions of blood, lots of blood, kylar being a freak in general
SFW :
Has that awkward little smile, the typa person to do the peace sign in a photo, teeth fully showing with their disheveled dark fringe obscuring their vision. I like to think that Kylar looks like that in their family painting, standing there all stiff with that awkward, shy grin of theirs, light flush on their cheeks. Makes me wanna pinch it, not gonna lie.
Makes silly little comics for you on a weekly basis just to hear you laugh, sketches up an idea in mind, colors the whole thing in their sketchbook before handing you the finished result at lunch in the cafeteria. Absolutely loves the sound of your laughter, giggles, snickering or snorting (no matter how you laugh). Just brings a proud grin to their face to see you happy and that they’re the one responsible for it, making your lips curl up into that smile of yours that they like to see.
Would treasure anything you give them, wether it be the scraps of paper that you left behind in class or even better, something handmade from you. Kylar is keeping it all, scarred hands tracing over the gift you gave them, making sure to place it high on their shelves to admire or near their desk to always be in reach. If it’s a sweater or some other clothing, they’re wearing it all the time, 24/7, needs you to tell them to take it off at one point.
Doesn’t take care of themselves at all, main reason why Kylar’s room is a complete and utter mess and they look like they haven’t showered in months while wearing the same old dark hoodie. It’s not their fault though, why spend time taking proper care of their body and mind when they could spend it watching you? Plus after the incident with their parents, it’s been hard cleaning around the house.. So, PC takes it upon themselves to give them the care that they deserve, cooks them meals, helps them pick up dirty laundry off the floor, makes sure the loner washes themselves on a daily basis, even takes a bath with them at times. I like to think they even have a rubber ducky in their bathtub that they got from PC, treasures it dearly with a smile on their face.
The loner may not take good care of themselves, but they definitely take extra good care of their knife. It’s like their prize really, for some innate reason, maybe gifted by their parents? Students avoiding them because of the look on the freak’s face, the way they lovingly stare at their weapon like it’s their beloved, obviously when they’re not busy staring at you. Rubs and sharpens it everyday, the silver sound soothing them. Would also give PC a knife of their own, if only the game mechanics allowed Kylar to do so.
Sucks at cleaning, really it’s kind of sad how bad this freak sucks at cleaning, can’t sweep up the manor for the life of them. Doesn’t help that Kylar is sort of clumsy, carrying a bunch of plates and dishes only to trip on some invisible atom and pathetically land right on their face, bringing the plates with them to break. Actually, just add this scene in the game. It’d be funny.
If you thought they were bad at housekeeping and dusting up corners.. Their cooking is much worst. Much, much worst. Fuck, you don’t want Kylar to ever be a stay-at-home spouse because they’d accidentally poison you with their cooking. Brings you the most burnt-looking thing, shit, you don’t even know if it’s meat or vegetables. Wears a smile on their face like they didn’t just fuck up the entire kitchen, PC forced to clean up right after.
Just listing all the things they’re bad at this point, sucks at singing too if it weren’t obvious with that pathetic tune of theirs that they sung to a poor kidnapped PC. You’re just forced to stand there as Kylar sings “happy birthday” to you on your birthday, voice cracking and off tune, second cake in hand that they bought from the store because the first homemade one got burnt. Doesn’t mean it isn’t cute though, their little squeaky voice and proud smile is hard to resist at the end of it all.
This is practically canon. Kylar has the weirdest sleeping postions possible, feet on the headboard, sprawled out sheets along with their extended arms that are just hanging from the bed. Goes to sleep one night in a normal way, y’know, on their back and they just wake up on their floor, in the middle of the kitchen. Only way the loner can sleep normally is if you’re with them, cuddling and holding onto you for dear life or so they say. (It’s just an excuse to be in the same bed as you and hug you)
Surprise, surprise, the little freak has bad posture. Who would’ve known, really? That’s what you get for drawing, hunching and being on your monitor all day. Makes them look smaller than they already are since they have the tendency to just hunch down and be invisible to the world because they don’t like to draw attention to themselves. Needs PC to constantly remind them to sit straight on their chair in class or at home unless they want scoliosis.
NSFW :
Into knifeplay, anything to do with their beloved knife that they get to use on you. Would not hurt you with it, well.. unless it involved marking you though, the town needs to know that you’re Kylar’s beloved spouse, right? Tracing along your skin with the silver, only to press it deep enough to leave a mark, proudly carves their name right into your flesh, adds a heart too at the end of it because they’re “romantic” like that. Eagerly laps up the blood with their tongue as a way to clean you up, but really they just wanna taste anything that comes out of your body. (fuck, they’re gross).
Shit, Kylar always gets jealous whenever they catch you touching yourself on their monitors. Even more so with toys. Why have the need to masturbate when they can just be there with you? You don’t need a dildo/pocket pussy! You have them! And only them. Just know that they’re matching their strokes and movements with yours through the screen, wishing they could be right there with you on the bed. Sneaking into your bedroom at night to lick and suck at the used toys, savouring the mess you left on the fleshy plastic and throwing it right out after because the loner will be your personal toy next time.
Pretty obvious by now that they have a scent kink. Anything to do with your smell wether it be the clothes you wear or your bedsheets and blankets, they’re sniffing it. Hard. It’s just so goddamn intoxicating for the little gremlin. They get light-headed from your scent alone, uses your stolen underwear to get themselves off, musky scent and fabric pressed against their nose, inhaling deeply with their eyes closed. Purposely finishes right on it just to meld your pheromones together because Kylar is a nasty freak.
They’re willing to dress up for you. You know what that means.. Unlike Whitney, the stubborn little shit, they’d slip on any outfit you’d ask for them, no matter how lewd. Want a little maid that’ll serve your every need? They’re doing it. Just don’t expect the house to be spotless because fuck, they suck at cleaning. A bunny outfit with the black ears, fishnets and everything? Kylar is willingly spreading their legs on the bed, giving you free view of their exposed skin because that’s what a good lover does for their spouse, huh? Definitely gushes every time you compliment how good they look in the fabric too, face turning red and thighs pressing together to hide their arousal.
Oh, did I not mention? They have the biggest praise kink in the world. Tell them they’re doing good during sex, they’re cumming on the spot, making a mess of themselves and blubbering all the while. Needs to be told they’re doing well, god, even better if it’s from you. Your validation is the only thing Kylar seeks for besides their parents which is.. kinda impossible now. Give them a pat on the head, ruffle their hair and call them a “good boy/girl”. That’s all you need to do, the loner will become putty in your hands.
Enthusiastically gives you head whenever you want, just say the word and Kylar is already on their knees, comfortably settled between your thighs. Their head game though.. well, not that it’s bad, it’s just that they’re a bit extreme about it (and a virgin). Makes the most obscene noises, slurping, messily leaves a trail of saliva, full tongue and everything. There’s no need to stuff their face right into your crotch, but they still do it like it’s their last meal.
If Whitney is an exhibitionist, then Kylar is a voyeur, despite wanting to be the only one to give you pleasure, they wouldn’t be against you putting on a little show for them. Namely that of pleasuring yourself right in front of them on their bed or even English class. Just know that the loner is doing the same, shakily holding their pencil with one hand, drawing into their sketchbook to ingrain the scene into their head while their free one is busy with something else beneath the desk..
Unrelated, but also related. Can we agree that just like M!Kylar has the fattest cock on earth, F!Kylar has the biggest fucking tits in the world? I’m talking enormous, cow-size milkers, GIGANTIC. F!Kylar with a flat chest or small tits is also cute, but LORD. IM TALKING LIKE @saint700’s DESIGN OF F!KYLAR, FATTEST TITS, BIGGER THAN WHITNEY’S. YEAH, BIGGER THAN HERS!! TYPA ONES YOU’D GROPE AND SUCK AT, SOFT FLESH IN YOUR HAND AND CUTE PINK, LITTLE NIPPLES THAT PERK UP. AAAAAAUUUUUGGGHHGHH!!!!
Anyway, that’s it. Ignore the last part. Didn’t mean it. (Yeah, I did.)
#dol#degrees of lewdity#kylar the loner#dol kylar#degrees of lewdity kylar#haha#they’re kinda cute#I won’t lie#except for the yandere part#asher writes
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