#his name is Victor now

[asher-turtle]

So I got bored and I have this dress up app it's called batdoll and I was thinking about how Vlad clone Danny and his stable clone Danielle ended up younger (am female) so got me thinking of a younger clone of Vlad so I gave him off White color maybe reminiscent of cream instead of the gray color cuz I'm not giving a child gray hair I had fun with this ghost mode though picking out the colors of Vlads usual colors I may have gone with too much black but I think it looks good

Edit: so I was looking for a name for him I couldn't find any that weren't just Vlad with extra stuff (would probably do that though) anyways I settled on the name Victor

[artsandstoriesandstuff]

They r talking smack about u… 😦

[probablyscreamingintothevoid]

I love Leo de la Iglesia so much.

Yes he's just a minor character, as many of them are in Yuri on Ice. But that's one of the things that was so special about that show, at least for me. He may have only gotten one short program that we got to watch, he wasn't one of the final 6 to make it to the final, so we saw very little of him. But they had such a way of making him, as well as many others, a thought out and relatable boy.

I watched that show when I was very depressed, majorly struggling to understand why we're all here and what the point off at this was. When getting out of bed was a mountain instead of a molehill and I didn't think that life was going to really get any better. Watching Yuuri Katsuki go through similar issues, realizing that we are often our own worst enemy, that was all really great, helps me a lot. But there was something about Leo.

He's 19, I was 20 or 21 at the time, so we were pretty similar in age and that was really nice. Yuuri and Victor seemed so much older than me, older than I was really able to see myself as. 21 was hell. I couldn't imagine myself as 27, as Victor. (As I type this is am in fact 27, going on 28 in the spring. 💛)

19 year old Leo de la Iglesia. A minor character in a short show that in many way saved my life and certainly saved me from myself. I still don't know exactly what drew me in to him. I'm usually more of a fan of the dark, brooding, angry but is secretly quite soft characters. And Leo... he isn't that.

His name is Leo and he is a Leo and he's just this ray of sunshine and he loses his brain cells when Phichit and Guang-Hong are with him. He cares so much about his sport and the other people in it and he wants to do well but I think they did a good job of showing that he doesn't want to succeed because of other people's failures but because of his own growth.

I wanted to write this really well thought out post about how great Leo is but all I can think of to fully describe him is:

☀️🦁♌️🏠⛸️😁🥰✨💛☀️

So yeah, to summarize: I just think he's neat. He deserves all the love that I bet he will never get because this fandom is dying.

If you're still here, if you're seeing this, I love you. I'm sorry that Mappa hurt us. My fic Cadence isn't dead. It is very much alive and I will update as soon as I am able.

I'm glad you're still here.

Thank you for coming to my TEDTalk about Leo. :)

[narsh-poptarts]

(alone in a room) do you think he knows we can see his hopeless devotion

do you think the entire wizard council can see his hopeless devotion too

[this is an OC]

[binghe-malewife-goals]

i turned Henry Clerval into an anteater

In the same AU as this post

[pnuk-r0ck]

My moms mad I don’t wanna go to her cousins husbands baptism

[avengerphobic]

I made up a universe for a johnnywyatt fic but I like made Doom a woman in a throw away line but now I'm thinking about her

[thevalicemultiverse]

what are the ot3's pet names for each other?

Alice: Well, I've gotten into the habit of calling Victor "darling," and he tends to call me "love." And Smiler often refers to me as their "bestie," while I often refer to them as "goofball."

Smiler: [grinning] And I call Victor whatever pops into my head, and he calls me --

Victor: [softly] Sunshine.

Smiler: [blinks, looks at Victor]

Victor: [rubs the back of his head] It's -- you know the song, "You Are My Sunshine?" I -- I was thinking about it, and -- [shrug] You -- you are. My sunshine.

Smiler: [expression equal parts "touched" and "horrified realization that they have to come up with a legit pet name for Victor now"] ...oh.

[reanimationstation]

pony commission for @golden-buddle !! i had tons of fun getting to play with this guy's pony design, ty again for commissioning me :D!

[clemencetaught]

"Here," it's... it's just bread. It's a bun, sure large enough to still some amount of hunger, but it's just bread. And yet, María holds it in front of Patrick with the face of someone who'd consider it a criminal offense to refuse it. Nevermind that she's stolen it from one of the banquets. "Just making sure you're eating." ((RUH-ROH it's Len again~ and I promise I forgot about the Peeta bread thing until I re-read this IGNORE THAT--!! FDKLGJDLAJSGF Hope you didn't end up getting sick BUT IF YOU DID HOPE YOU'RE RESTING AND FEELING BETTER SOON 🥺)) || okay but panem is also known as the nation of bread & circuses– ( unprompted w/ @mythvoiced )

He doesn’t eat much in the Capitol. 

Which is ironic, seeing how most of his life before the games, Patrick was always hungry. Always trying between schooling and factory shifts to figure out when his next meal was going to come. Why else would he and Hyuk have taken out tesserae all those years ago? It was preferable, playing the odds in the Reaping to starving for the rest of the year.

Nowadays, food is the least of his concerns. Whereas there is still a dearth in District Three, there is surplus in the Capitol. No surplus isn’t the right word; a surplus would mean the Capitol keeps the extra for the future. No, there is an excess of food in the Capitol, an excess that is dumped and left to rot after the pigs have had their share, have had their fun.

When he remembers that, food in the Capitol, no matter how finely it’s been prepared, becomes disgusting. Repulsive when it is combined with the thought of the districts, his people, still starving and fighting one another for the Capitol’s ‘scraps’. One plate is enough for Patrick to feel the bile swish in his stomach and even crawl back up his throat– how is he supposed to enjoy this filth now?

(But of course the Capitol has a way of perverting everything. Who else would have invented a liquid that makes one vomit what was just digested to make room for more food?)

“You didn’t have to,” is the first set of words to come out of his mouth, however. It’s such a childish gesture on her part; as a victor, she and her family should have more than enough riches to cover for food whether she’s in the Capitol or her own district. That and it’s considered normal to take leftovers from these banquets.

And yet, she’s staring him down like they are in covenance– it’s odd…strange how the things the Capitol deem sacred, she’ll approach with the irreverence of a foreigner and yet with the most mundane of objects, like a loaf of bread, most likely one of the hundred baked today and will be replicated tomorrow, like it is worth the weight of gold. He takes a hold of María’s loot. The loaf is still warm, freshly out of the oven, he wants to believe. Like it came from one of the bakeries in say, District 12, rather than a Capitol banquet table. Does she look at the Capitol and its elaborate feasts the same way? District Eight is probably just as bad if not even worse than his own district when it comes to food shortages so maybe her thievery makes sense.

When one has gone without food for long enough, no amount of surplus is enough to satiate the insecurity. He knows that feeling all too well. His stomach growls in anticipation. “…Normally, the Capitol likes to have this with caviar.” A delicacy from District Four along with butter shipped from District Ten. He splits the loaf in two, the inside crackling and breaking into two crisp pieces. “But I think…I think it tastes just as delicious on its own.” He hands María one half while taking a bite out of the other. “Take the other half; I can’t finish it on my own.”

It tastes delicious. 

[hyperfixation-or-death]

Thinking about a Parallels AU where the main four + Camille are all different ages at the start of the show, and all the dynamics are different because of it.

The only main characters who have met at the start are Sam and Victor, and Sam and Bilal.

Sam is fifteen years old, so he's the closest to his canon age.

Victor is nine years old, so he's the youngest by a lot in this.

Bilal is thirty years old, and he's working with his mom on the tests. He also tutors Sam in math on the weekends.

Romane is nineteen years old, and hasn't met any of the other main characters.

Camille is nine years old, and she and Victor go to the same school.

Episode one starts when Sam is supposed to go to tutoring, but ends up needing to bring Victor with him, because their parents weren't able to pick him up from some activity or other.

I haven't figured out how they get to the woods from there; for the sake of convenience, let's say that cat Romane and Camille feed shows up injured, and they end up following the cat to try and help it? Work in progress.

Anyways, once they're close to the bunker, they run into Romane. Assuming we're going with the cat plot device, because I can't think of anything else right now, Romane was also trying to find the cat. The cat is gone now, though, and they're all about to turn back.

Then Victor notices the bunker (the key is in the door, idk), and wants to go inside. Sam and Bilal don't think it's a good idea, but Romane also wants to go inside for some reason, and the four end up going to check it out.

The test goes off, of course, and the timelines split.

Timeline 1 - Romane and Victor are left in the bunker.

Victor definitely blames himself for the disappearances, since he was the one to suggest going in the bunker in the first place. Romane also definitely blames herself for the disappearances, since Victor is nine years old, and she should have known it was a bad idea, but she didn't, and now this kid's brother is probably dead because of that.

Romane ends up talking to Victor afterwards, and realizes that he goes to school with Camille. The conversation turns to that, and Victor mentions that he's not doing great in some subject or other; a subject Romane happens to be good at. Feeling like it's the absolute least she could do for him, she offers to help him with homework after school.

Since Victor is literally an elementary school child, his parents are not sending him to boarding school. They do become increasingly distant and harsh, and Victor becomes increasingly convinced that they don't care about him.

Victor ends up spending a lot of time at Romane and Camille's house. At first, it's just because Romane's helping him with homework. Then it sinks in that no one else understands what happened in the bunker, and that fact starts playing into their dynamic. Then he starts to become friends with Camille. By the time four years have gone by, Victor and Camille are close friends, and Romane sees Victor as another sibling. (She hasn't moved out yet because a. She's attending university nearby. and b. She doesn't trust Herve and wants to keep an eye on her family.)

Then Vanessa Chassangre dies, and Romane is faced with the possibility of losing her sister. She's trying to figure out if she has any chance at getting custody, when Victor shows up to ask if she wants to go back to the bunker. Neither of them have figured out the correlation with the test in this AU, but they still go, out of sentimentality and curiosity and several other complicated emotions.

Test happens again; Victor and Romane time travel.

Timeline 2 - Romane and Bilal are left in the bunker.

Bilal connects the dots between the tests and the disappearances pretty quickly. He tells his mom. Then he tells Romane.

Bilal decides to try and find a way to save Sam and Victor. This time, it's less out of personal grief and more out of a sense of responsibility for what happened and guilt.

Romane graduates high school feeling completely lost. She doesn't know what she wants to do with her life, and she can't shake the guilt over what happened.

Haven't planned it out too well, but Bilal and Romane stay in contact. I'm not sure how it's going to work, but he's able to get her accepted for an internship at some point, and she ends up working with Bilal and Sofia.

The three of them continue to work at the time travel. Along the way, Romane becomes close with both Sofia and Bilal, viewing them as family.

Vanessa dies; Herve tries to take Camille. This time, it doesn't work. Romane has a support net, a steady income, and a future in the physics field. Romane gets custody of her sister.

They figure out the time travel. Bilal decides to go back.

Timeline 3 - Sam is left in the bunker; Bilal travels back to this one; Victor and Romane travel back to this one.

Since Bilal was already an adult before the time travel, Sam still recognizes him. He's clearly aged several years, though, which everyone is very confused about. Bilal has his canonical memory loss.

Idk what happens for the first day, but then Romane and Victor show up to the timeline at the same time they do in canon.

I haven't thought about how the plot changes from there, but the timeline where Victor kills Sam and then disappears after time traveling again doesn't happen. The official explanation is that they're able to stop it from happening the first time; the actual explanation is that I can't keep track of that many timelines in an already complicated AU.

Notes on the AU:

Camille ends up being there for the finale's events, both because she's a little older in the AU and because she's friends with Victor in the AU, so she insists on coming with the main characters.

Victor's emotional conflict ends up being roughly the same, because on the one hand, he's had more of a support net for those four years, but on the other, he's younger with more intense emotions, so it all kind of evens out.

For obvious reasons, none of the canon romantic relationships exist, with the exception of Sofia and Lieutenant Retz.

Obviously lots of things are different with this one, but I can't really think of a lot right now because I'm tired, so I might add to this later.

[nostalgic-bee]

Yuuri: You know your name is very fitting

Victor (already preparing for the pun he may hear): If you make a joke about my medals-

Yuuri: because you’re the Victor of my heart

Victor:…..*flustered*

[hitroow]

I just had the sickest idea.

[awxcoffeexno]

ain't gon' ever deserve you

mutant!loganhowlett x human!reader one shot

fic masterlist | nsfw claw worship

summary: logan has a nightmare and hurts you by accident - or - the one where you worship his claws the way they deserve.

content: mostly family-friendly claw worship. logan believes in the animal accusations but reader fixes it. reader is human, logan and reader have an established and v loving relationship, lots of reassurance and comforting for logan.

warnings: logan has nightmares, mentions of blood, logan self-hate, family-friendly knife play??????.

word count: 2.1k

a/n: listen, claw worship has been on my mind for a looooooong time. I'm too chicken to put up any of my nsfw writing yet so here's an sfw version with affirmations for poor baby lo-lo. also this is super inspired by logan and kayla's relationship and even uses some quotes from them.

you're deep asleep, dreaming of everything and nothing when you feel the sudden sharp sting in your arm.

eyes flying open, you open your mouth to hiss in pain but logan's lips are at your ear, snarling and grunting in his sleep again.

you look down to find his claws out, the metal tips digging into your arm. you exhale sharply, watching the warm blood seep down your arm and onto the new white sheets.

"no! n– no!" he growls, and you're forced to bite your lip as you try to pull away from his vice grip. when that doesn't work, you sink your nails into his arm.

"logan–"

"victor, NO!" he screams and sits up, yanking his claws from your arm and stabbing at the air in front of him.

victor creed. logan's brother and the bane of his existence. victor who haunts his dreams every single night, victor whose name you can never forget, victor who is now the reason logan's hurt you.

you sit up with him, aching for him, wrapping your arms around his torso. the burning pain in your arm an afterthought, you hear him swallow and gently let out a breath. he's sticky with sweat and the dry radiator air in the room isn't helping, the moon glowing through your glass walls, creating a halo around his head.

"nightmare." you state, letting him catch his breath and take in his surroundings.

he nods even though what you said wasn't a question but a statement. he twists around and pulls you into his lap, hugging you like he does near every night – chin tucked into your shoulder, arms wrapped all the way around your torso. he smells of soap and cigar smoke and the faintest hint of your shampoo. you smile to yourself and press a kiss to his hair.

"you're so cute." you mutter and a small smile spreads across his lips.

"cute?" he repeats, amused. "that's new." he pulls you closer, further down his lap and you can feel his heartbeat start to steady again.

"you used my shampoo again, and don't you deny it this time."

he scowls at you but lets you kiss him anyway. "reminds me of you," he sighs when he realises you won't stop until he admits it.

"but i'm right here," you giggle, running your thumb over the shell of his ear.

he opens his mouth to explain further but that's when he smells it. the blood he's drawn from your arm in his nightmare-fuelled anger at victor. his jaw tightens as he looks for the source of blood, finding three uniform slices on the outside of your forearm.

"no," he gasps, a thousand emotions crossing his eyes.

you try to wiggle your arm out of his grip, the blood running down your arm now. "hey... i'm okay."

"like fuck you are," he snarls, angry at himself.

how could he have possibly hurt you?! was this a thing now?? was he a danger to you even in his sleep?! god, he'll have to put you to sleep and then figure out a way to declaw himself. maybe if he just slices the back of his palms open–

"james..." you break him out of his thoughts, hand on his cheek. "baby, i'm okay. really. it looks worse than it feels."

"i'm going to rip these out." he whispers, holding his fists up, the back of his palms facing you. his words are as much a promise to you as a command to himself.

you grab his fists and glare at him. he blinks at your expression, looking at you over his hands.

"don't you dare say anything of the sort. these are a gift."

"a gift," he scoffs, "you can return a gift."

"these are a gift," you repeat sternly. "and i will not let you do anything to them."

he opens his mouth to protest but you aren't done. how dare he even think of hurting himself, of declawing himself when you love his claws as much as you love every last part of him.

you run your fingers over the back of his palms and whisper, "take them out."

"sweetheart..."

"take them out, my love" you repeat, kissing his knuckles because you know it hurts every time he does.

he carefully and very very slowly bares them and you look at him from between the blades.

not breaking eye contact, you lean in and press a soft kiss to the base of the middle claw on his right hand. you catch him shuddering and your eyes widen in surprise.

"you felt that?"

you can see him redden even in the dark. "'course i did," he grunts.

"what does it feel like?" you ask, fascinated. everyday you learn something new about him and it never fails to delight you.

you kiss the base of another claw on the other hand and see him inhale sharply.

he groans deeply, humming to come up with the right words. "like... you're stroking every nerve in me to life."

that makes you sit up on your haunches and wrap your fingers around his wrists. he freezes, bracing himself to yank the claws back in the second he thinks you might hurt yourself on the sharp ends. you carefully lick along the length of the claw between his pinky and ring finger on his right hand, making him exhale shakily.

"tryna kill me, sugar?" he says through gritted teeth, every muscle in his body tense.

"trying to show you how much i love your claws, lo. even if they hurt sometimes."

you loop your right hand between both of his, gently pressing the tip of your thumb against the sharp end of a claw. you run your finger up the blade, making him whine in protest as you draw blood.

his eyes implore you, pleading, but you simply take your hand up to his mouth, pressing your bleeding thumb against his lips. he relents, sucking it into his warm mouth and licking it clean.

"logan?" you whisper and he hums around your thumb.

despite the heat in your core, pooling between your legs, you need him to hear this. you'll have time to fulfil that need later.

"every part of you means everything to me. but your claws, especially your claws, have the most special place in my heart. they protect me. they make you feel good. and most of all, they're fucking cool."

and that finally makes him crack a smile again.

"y'think so?"

"mhmm."

"c'mere." he says finally, pulling his claws back in and tugging you back into his lap.

he makes you straddle him and kisses you warmly. he looks into your eyes with such fondness, it squeezes your heart. carefully he pulls his first claw out on his right hand and uses it to gently push your hair out of your eyes. your eyes flutter shut in response, leaning into his metal touch.

he brushes the back of the claw across your cheek and your lips part prettily for him. the air doesn't feel so thick anymore, the quiet humming of the refrigerator in the kitchen not overwhelming him the way it was when he snapped awake.

ever so carefully, pushing his own boundaries, he turns his wrist and pushes the flat of his claw onto your tongue. it's warm and tastes of him, salty and musky and like metal.

"that okay for you, pretty girl?" he mumbles and you can hear the strain in his voice. he's terrified but he so badly wants to be brave for you.

you wrap your lips around the claws and suck softly in response, drawing a groan of pleasure from him.

he shudders beneath you, every inch of him tense and trembling with restraint. you slide your tongue along the metal, tracing the edge of his claw with reverence, savoring the taste of him.

logan’s breath catches in his throat, and you feel the warmth of his exhale ghost across your face. his other hand, free of the adamantium blades, finds its way to your waist, gripping you tightly.

"god," he breathes out, voice rough and filled with a raw vulnerability you hear only at night. "you have no idea what you do to me."

you slowly release his claw from your mouth, letting it slide out with a deliberate slowness that has him biting back another groan. his eyes are locked on you, dark with need.

you reach up, cupping his face with your now clean thumb, and brush your lips against his in a featherlight kiss. "i think i do," you whisper against his mouth. "i want you to feel how much i love every part of you, logan. even the parts that scare you."

his claws retract with a soft snikt, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

"you're something else, darlin'," he murmurs into your hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. you can feel the smile playing on his lips. "you make me feel... whole."

you nestle into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest. "and you make me feel safe," you reply, closing your eyes and letting the furnace heart of his presence envelop you. "always."

you feel his grip tighten, his hand trembling slightly against your waist. he's always been the warrior, the weapon, the animal, but here in your arms, he's just logan, just a man who’s been through more pain than anyone should endure.

"people see the claws and think i’m nothing but a beast," he murmurs, his voice thick with self-doubt. "like i’m more metal than man. they look at me and all they see is the damage i can do."

you pull back just enough to look into his eyes, your hands framing his face. he tries to look away, but you won’t let him. you press a soft kiss to his brow, then his cheek, and finally, to the corner of his mouth.

"they don’t make you an animal," you whisper, your voice even and filled with conviction. "they make you strong. they’re not just weapons, they’re part of what makes you you."

his breath hitches at your words, and you feel him struggle against the years of conditioning, the years of being told that he’s nothing more than a killing machine. but you won’t let those words hold power over him anymore.

you reach down, gently taking his right hand in yours. with care, you press a kiss to each knuckle, feeling the warmth of his skin under your lips. then, you look up at him and slowly, deliberately, coax his claws out again.

you run your fingers lightly over the metal, tracing the curves and edges with the same care you’d give to a delicate piece of art.

logan watches you, his expression shifting from uncertainty to something deeper, something like awe. "you don’t see me like everyone else does," he says, almost to himself.

"no," you agree, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of one of his claws. "i see you, logan. the real you. and what i see is a man who’s fought for so long to protect the people he loves, even when it’s cost him everything. your claws, they’re not just about hurting or fighting. they’re about protecting. they’re about survival. and they��re about who you have been for so long."

his chest rises and falls with each breath, the tension slowly easing from his body as your words sink in. for once, he doesn’t feel like an animal. he feels like a man, just a man. and it's nice.

"besides," you say, tone lightening. "so you really think I'm such a baby i can't handle three little cuts?"

you both know you're underplaying it and though he would never admit it in the day, the moonlight across his face betrays his grateful expression. it's easier to believe that he hasn't hurt you too much when you're saying it yourself.

you lower his hand, resting it against your chest, over your heart.

he swallows hard, holding you as if he’s afraid to let go. "ain't gon' ever deserve you," he whispers, his voice thick.

"you deserve everything," you murmur back, holding him just as tightly. "and i’m going to keep reminding you of that, every day."

for a moment, he’s silent, just holding you close. then, in a voice that’s barely more than a whisper, he says, "you almost make me feel human, darlin’."

you pull back just enough to kiss him again, only because you know he'd much rather feel than hear. your kiss is slow and tender, letting him feel the truth in your touch.

he doesn’t say anything more, but the way he kisses you back, the way he holds you, tells you everything you need to know.

he'll be okay. you'll make him okay. you gently push him to lie down and rest your head on his chest.

you love him, you love how he wants so badly to believe you, and most of all, you fucking love his claws.

--

this stemmed from a very nsfw thought™ but here we are, all warm and fuzzy. a mostly non-angsty fic is new for me!!

hope you liked this x

love, d <3

--

edit: i wrote an nsfw claw worship fic too 🤠🤝🏽 >> unholy

[sprinklethetangerine]

So my sister is forcing me to watch Gotham, and basically...

The show: ⛓️🔪🖤🔪🖤⛓️🔪⛓️🖤⛓️🔪⛓️🔪⛓️

Me: LMAOOOO, HIS NAME IS VICTOR'S ASS, LOOK AT HIM, BROS COUSIN IS CAILLOU

[livvyofthelake]

unfortunately having been in high school when love simon came out impacted me in insane ways.