Matching Halloween Costumes- Obey Me! Hcs

Turning Red as anime 🐼❤️🌈

(via)

Hello!💖🦫 I don't know if your requests are open, but in case they are; can I ask for Slashers reacting to their s/o waking up from a nightmare?

And I don't want to ask for much, but it's okay if its gender neutral and has RZ!Michael and Bubba Sawyer?

Slashers x Reader

Characters: Bubba Sawyer, Rz! Michael Myers, OG! Michael Myers, Peepaw Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Erik Destler.

Okay so its almost 4am this might not make sense in some parts??? I apologize lol I'll fix any mistakes or weird shit later today/tomorrow. I hope this is okay!

Not proof read.

-

❥ Bubba is confused and alert-- he isn't sure if you saw or heard anything until you explain it was a nightmare. He's honestly had some so he can relate and he'd never judge you, even if the nightmares seem a little silly to others.

❥ This boy is the cuddle master. He's inexperienced but the pure joy and affection he gives you through cuddles make up for the occasional awkward moments. Bubba will try asking if you want held first so be prepared for some quiet babbling and hand gestures. He's fine with not getting any sleep if that means you feel safer.

❥ Now if the nightmare is brutal and you wake up screaming, sobbing, kicking-- you'll probably thrash around and hit him accidentally. This won't phase him at all though so it's alright. Tbh he's more concerned about the screaming than any small bruises he may get. Bubba hates seeing you in such a horrible situation and tries everything in the book.

❥ Bubba likes to gently touch your face and play with your hands. He hopes the sensations will calm you down enough to fall back asleep. He might hum if you ask sweetly. And if you do? He hums a song that reminds him of you.

❥ RZ! Michael also understands from personal experiences. Don't feel pressured to tell him right away, he knows you need time to calm down first. Don't tell him anything if that's something you'd prefer. Michael can't really force you to talk things out so he reminds you he's there when you're ready.

❥ He can be tender. Soft touches, rubbing your back, nuzzling closer into you so you feel more comfortable and safer. Michael hopes you know he will protect you and he even sleeps near the door, you're never on that side of the bed. He's prepared for basically anything.

❥ Eye contact whenever you open up about the nightmare. It's gentle, warm, and comforting. This tells you he is truly listening and not staring to zone out. Michael cares more than he lets on.

❥ Michael tries to coax you back to sleep by acting sleepy himself. His mind works like this: if I act calm.. they will feel safe enough to calm down too. Michael really tries to make the situation lighter by acting casual but during nights like these.. it's clear how much he worries about you in general.

❥ OG Michael is 50/50. Sure, he's had some.. okay, more than some. Michael has a traumatic past with sleep altogether from being sedated so much in Smith's Grove-- his brain does what it's meant to do most of the time and blocks out memories. Sometimes he remembers how it felt and other times he feels nothing and cannot understand.

❥ Michael won't show it but he is anxious when you start waking up and thrashing and crying. The most he shows physically is a head tilt, he's studying the way you react to fear thats not because of him and he realizes-- you cling to him for protection. Michael isn't going to go out of his way to be sweet and soft so don't get your hopes up.. however, if you were to lean into him, he won't move a single muscle.

❥ This fact alone warms his cold heart. You feel safe in his presence and it's going to mess with him a little. In the end he doesn't show it and acts like nothing is bothering him for your sake. He's aware that people feed off reactions.

❥ Michael stays awake the whole night to watch over you. He stares. Studies you more and more. You're definitely something to him, you're cherished and loved by him in his usual twisted ways.. and he totally doesn't cuddle closer when he thinks you're out completely. If you stay up but have good acting skills.. you'll feel him press himself against you and hold you protectively and rub any part of you that's in range. It's all innocent so don't worry about that.

❥ Peepaw Myers knows before you even wake up. Michael is an expert at reading your pulse.. he can tell when it spikes from fear, excitement, anxiety, etc. Michael reads you like a book.

❥ The second you start breathing differently he is awake and alert but not moving, his eyes remain closed. He waits until you start moving and that's when he will put a stop to it before it gets too bad. Michael more than likely holds you from behind most nights so you can expect this man to have an iron grip on you, you're not going anywhere.

❥ If he doesn't catch it quick enough then he makes you-- yes, he forces you to lay directly on his chest. Not off to the side. Nope. You're gonna lay right on top of him and let him hold you while you listen to his steady heartbeat. And if that don't work? He will probably crush you with his weight by reversing the roles and lays on you instead. Pressure helps some people and he is willing to try it for you- you're lucky he loves you..

❥ Peepaw is slightly more vocal with sounds and not necessarily words. Low hums, grunts, anything to let you know that he is there. Feel free to touch on him sweetly, rub on his chest or play with his grey scruff-- he likes it but acts like he only tolerates it.

❥ Thomas Hewitt has some damn good hearing despite Hoyt constantly yelling at him. Of course if he's in the basement working he can't hear but when in reasonable range he will hear you make the slightest noises and is immediately checking on you.

❥ Thomas will eye you down first to figure out what exactly is going on and he pays attention on how your body reacts. If you start getting too close to the potential of hurting yourself from all the moving around he will stop it as sweetly as possible.

❥ Breaks his heart knowing you can't have a peaceful sleep.. living in his home isn't healthy, he knows this. So he feels guilty and tries comforting you when you're awake.

❥ Tommy will more than likely drop whatever he is doing (since he works late) and cleans up before getting in bed with you. You'll be held so snug like you're in a cocoon. And if you ever wanna talk about the nightmares, he's going to listen and offer any kind of help possible. Tell him what will make it easier and he's on it asap.

❥ Erik has insomnia. He struggled with sleep his whole life and practically lives off third shift timing at this point. This means you sleep when he's still wide awake and composing more music.

❥ The lair echoes. He will hear any whimpers, cries, etc.. Erik is immediately alerted by it and wastes no time on checking in with you. If you're still asleep, he watches for a few minutes and tries covering you back up in hopes it'll help. But if you wake up and can't fall back asleep.. yeah, you guessed it, this man is going to sing the most beautiful song that he wrote, specifically for you.

❥ Erik is insecure. He will mentally question if he did anything, if you're truly happy with him and how you live most your days under the opera house. Reassure him that's not it and he will eventually let that mindset go and then focuses on whatever meets your needs and expectations in order to feel better.

❥ Singing you to sleep + cuddling? Always. It's something so intimate and kind, purely from the heart and soul. Erik is soft spoken and will caress you anywhere you allow him to.. all night. He won't sleep at all due to his own habits but also because he genuinely wants to watch over his angel.

“Friendly husky affectionately thanking a firefighter who helped them out after the pupper managed to get stuck on a roof”

(via)

SAVE A GIRLS SERVICE DOG

(The gif is just a placeholder until I figure out how the hecks to get the photo of makana's dog out of the gofundme, cause if you don't have photos it's not eye-catching and thats. Very counterintuitive.)

gofundme.com

Help Me Keep My Service Dog, organized by Makana Boger

Hi, my name is Makana, and this is my service dog, Buddy. He has assisted me with my medical… Makana Boger needs your support for Help Me K

I know this is a little bit out of the ordinary for me, but this is serious. An online friend of mine, Makana, needs help paying for a lawyer to keep her service dog. She has severe mental health complications that would make it extremely difficult for her to function without Buddy, who she's had for over 5 years now. She's currently preparing for a nasty court case between her and her mother over the custody of Buddy. (See site for more details) Anything you give goes towards her lawyer. If you can donate any margin of money, whether that be 20 dollars or just mere cents, it would be greatly appreciated. If you can't donate, it's fine, that's okay, but PLEASE reblog for reach, or make your own post if you must. I don't care what you do, as long as it's something.

Can you do yandere triplets x reader?

Yandere Huey, Dewey, & Louie Duck (Team-Up, Romantic Scenario - "Crunch Time")

TW: Implied Kidnapping, Delusional Mindsets.

A.N. - I feel like having all three of these boys obsessed with you would just be utter chaos. All the time.

Hearing someone clear their throat, you hesitantly turned your head to see a vexed Huey standing at the end of the sofa closest to the entrance. The neurotic duckling was tapping his foot on the floor impatiently and looking back and forth between Louie and you, his eyes narrowed and arms crossed. Upon noticing the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook clutched to his chest, you immediately understood the motive for his unhappiness. 

A deep frown settled on Huey's face as he blinked and angled his head upwards slightly, glare halting on his youngest brother. "Why is the TV still on?" 

Louie merely shrugged and removed a hand from his pocket to place an arm around your shoulder, gaze never leaving the television. "Mmm, 'cause I still got five minutes?"

The older triplet's eye twitched as he tilted his head and leaned forward, a strained smile beginning to stretch from ear to ear. You looked down at Louie's hand as he grabbed a fistful of your shirt, his grip tightening.

"Actually, your session ended five minutes ago. Five minutes and twenty-three and a half seconds ago to be exact."

The lackadaisical duckling abruptly tugged you closer to him and rested his head on yours, smiling smugly. "Huh, guess my watch is a little slow." It was a warning for Huey to get off his case, but the neurotic duckling was nothing if not persistent. 

He raised his beloved guidebook to his mouth and sunk his teeth into its spine, pulling both sides of the book in opposite directions before lowering it and shouting, "You don't have a watch!"

His hands were trembling, and his gaze shifted to you, silently demanding that you take his side. Louie had long since made it a habit to dance around the truth and purposefully elicit this type of reaction from his eldest brother, but you knew better than to play favourites. The last time you attempted to manipulate your way to freedom Louie had sniffed out your scheme instantly and sparked a nasty confrontation. 

Pursuing your new strategy of flying under the radar, you kept your mouth shut and returned your focus to the television. Huey, infuriated by your rejection, marched in front of the two of you and obstructed your view. "It's my turn now, Louie. You got the exact amount of time we agreed to, plus an extra five minutes and twenty-three and a half seconds."

 Louie finally met his brother's gaze and simply offered a lazy smile. "Yeah, but," he countered, kicking his feet up and sinking further into the sofa, "I had to listen to Scrooge eat breakfast for most of it, so that earns me another half-hour at least."

Huey bit into his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook again, breathing quickening as his face began to turn a bright, cherry red. "That's not how math works," he screamed before raising a hand and pointing the tips of his fingers in the direction of the dining room, a hint of confusion entering his wrathful visage. "Also, that doesn't even make sense. Scrooge ate lunch, like, an hour ago." 

Louie's face crumpled in disgust as if he had been scarred for life. "He came back for seconds." 

You wriggled your shoulder and realized how limp the lackadaisical triplet's grip had become. Your prolonged inaction must have been paying off. 

Huey shot his younger brother a flabbergasted look, momentarily forgetting his anger, before sighing and glowering at him. "I don't have time for this."

With the speed of a snail, you began to lean away and scoot in the opposite direction. 

The youngest triplet stared up at his eldest brother with half-lidded eyes and asked in a mocking tone, "Whatever do you mean, Hue?" His jeering smile reignited the neurotic triplet's fury, and Huey reared his head back, rapidly flapping his hands. Louie's fingers were gradually slipping from your shoulder one digit at a time and the autonomy you had been stripped of was in sight. 

You started to rise from the cushion. 

"That's it!"

All at once, you were yanked to your feet and the lackadaisical triplet raked his fingers down your other arm in a frantic attempt to secure a hold on you. 

As searing pain shot up your limb like a bullet, Louie managed to snatch your hand, but Huey promptly grabbed it and jerked the two of you apart. "We're going up to our bedroom, and I'm locking the door!" 

The eldest triplet stormed around the sofa and headed for the entrance, pulling you along behind him. His younger brother gawked at the proclamation, a glint of desperation permeating his eyes.

Louie scrambled to his feet and seized your hand once again, tugging you backwards and digging his heels into the rug. "Wait," he begged, wincing at the seething glare his older brother shot him from over his shoulder, "you promised we could at least be in the same room together!" 

Huey came to a halt and whirled around to face him, bellowing out a deranged laugh. "Oh, I'm sorry. Rule breakers don't get benefits." Eyes widening and pupils shrinking to uneven sizes, he stomped towards his lackadaisical sibling. "They get penalties." 

Louie gulped and quivered but stood his ground as Huey smiled triumphantly. "Enjoy one week of withdrawal!" 

The youngest triplet's face twisted in horror, and he lunged forward to hug your arm, falling to his knees and dragging his feet behind him. "No! You can't do that! That's not fair!" 

The neurotic duckling scowled at his actions and released you, marching past to work on prying his brother off. "Oh, so now you suddenly care about the rules?"

A life spent cutting corners and taking the easy way out had left Louie with minimal stamina and endurance, and Huey was gradually overpowering him.

 "I'm sorry, okay? I won't keep them overtime anymore, I swear! Just take back the withdrawal!" 

Feeling the lackadaisical triplet's grip slipping, you began to creep towards the entrance. 

"Are you sorry for the five minutes and twenty-three and a half seconds of 'Huey Junior Woodchuck Guidebook' time you stole from me?" 

Louie's hand was sliding down your arm as you continued to slink further away, while the eldest triplet was pulling him in the opposite direction. His hold on you was almost completely gone, only a few stubborn fingers remaining intertwined with yours. 

"Would you let that go already? I said I was sorry!"

It took a final tug on your part, but you managed to free yourself and discreetly take a step back, allowing the two to zero in on each other.

Huey stood over Louie, who was crouching awkwardly on the floor. The eldest triplet narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, grinding his teeth and growling lowly. The lackadaisical duckling raised his hands in front of his face and peeked at his older brother through them with apprehension. 

"Do you want me to go get the sibling calendar and show you exactly when your time ended," quizzed Huey before adding in a much louder, angrier tone, "because I will!" 

Deciding this was your prime opportunity, you turned and crept into the hallway with all the decorum of a field mouse. Hearing the two began to roughhouse, you entitled yourself to a bit of slack and hastened your pace through the corridor. All was going well until two figures rounded the corner at the end of the hall, and you immediately recognized them as Dewey and Webby. 

They were chatting excitedly about their most recent adventure but fell deathly silent at the sight of you.

While Webby stared at you in horror as if you were ruining a plan that the two of you had devised together, Dewey nearly combusted on the spot. He gasped audibly and pressed his hands against his cheeks, pupils dilating exponentially. Before you had time to so much as blink, he was sprinting down the corridor with open arms and tackled you to the floor in a full-body hug. 

"You were looking for me, weren't you? I was looking for you too!" The spirited duckling spoke with a voice as light as a feather, letting out an airy giggle as he pressed his face against the crook of your neck. Dewey had always been the more innocent of the triplets, viewing your time at McDuck Manor as little more than one big, never-ending playdate. 

Despite his brothers' oppressive behaviour and even your insistence at times, he failed to grasp the notion that you were more akin to a prisoner than a playmate and used to have a life outside of them and the mansion. His apparent naivety made him the easiest to manipulate, but exploiting that was like taking a stroll through a minefield when the other triplets were nearby.

"Guess what I did today! Ah, nevermind, I can't wait! Webby and I went on an adventure with Uncle Scrooge, and we-" The spirited duckling raved about his latest journey incessantly, placing his hands on either side of your head to prop himself up. He was positively brimming with vitality as he sat back, positioning himself in your lap and waving his arms around in various gestures like a child bragging to their parent about what they did at school that day. 

Webby hastily approached from behind and paused next to Dewey, glancing back and forth between him and you with worry and wondering whether to intervene or not. The rambunctious duckling had recognized the triplets' collective obsession before even you did, but with the brothers constantly assuring her that nothing questionable was transpiring and no one else in the household batting an eye at the rather peculiar dynamic, she had become hesitant to assist you in any way.

Huey and Louie tumbled through the entrance to the living room and into the corridor, landing in a pile on the floor. The youngest triplet's face was almost completely obstructed by his hood, while the eldest triplet's hat was on the verge of falling off. Louie had ahold of his brother's leg, who was clasping the back of his hoodie and frantically yanking him in all directions. 

The Junior Woodchuck Guidebook was clutched in Huey's mouth, leaving the neurotic duckling to mutter muffled grievances as his lackadaisical sibling pleaded with him to rescind his previous punishment. 

Dewey looked up at them and fell silent, his euphoria rapidly fading and being replaced with concern and confusion. 

You met Webby's gaze, and she stared at you uncertainly before her eyes widened. She gasped quietly and stepped closer to Dewey, whispering something about Huey's sibling calendar. The spirited duckling's happiness returned in an instant. "Huey, you didn't tell me today was a freebie!"

The neurotic triplet finally detached his lackadaisical sibling from his leg and slowly stood up with his guidebook in hand, eyeing his younger brother with a mixture of frustration and perplexity. "That's because it isn't." 

Louie was lying on his back and staring at the ceiling with a look of begrudgingly admitted defeat, but he turned his head to glower at the sight of his older brother effectively cuddling you. "I don't recall inviting you to 'Louie TV' time, Dewford." 

Dewey was taken aback by his hostility, and Huey immediately turned to glare down at him with clenched fists. "Have you listened to a word I've said," the eldest triplet cried out, flapping his arms, "'Louie TV' time is over! It's been over for several minutes! Besides, we're not even in the living room anymore!" 

Louie grumbled and rolled his eyes, looking off to the side dismissively. 

The spirited triplet leaned back, gaze shifting from one brother to another. "Did I miss something?"

You tilted and lifted your head slightly to peek past Dewey, glancing up at the duckling to ensure that he was still distracted by his siblings' squabble, and plotted how far the front door was from your current position. It was only a couple of hallways straight ahead before you would spill into the foyer, the extravagant door could simply be pushed open, and no one in the mansion except for those who surrounded you would present an obstacle. 

Louie was not a threat as long as you kept him at a distance, and his poor fitness would take care of that for you. 

Huey's rage provided him with a surplus of energy but getting an ample headstart would most likely put him out of the equation. 

Dewey was easily the most athletic and agile of the triplets and needed to be impeded somehow, which spurred you to look at Webby. 

The rambunctious duckling was already staring at you with a conflicted visage, having caught on to your line of thinking. 

You doubted that she would go so far as to tackle and restrain Dewey, but you trusted her to not rat you out either.

As the two of you looked into each other's eyes, you recalled a certain move you had witnessed Webby use on the spirited triplet many times during survival or fighting games. Every so slowly, you returned your attention to Dewey and began to tuck in your legs. 

Huey crossed his arms and stared down at Louie in disapproval, shaking his head. "Don't worry about Louie, Dewey. He's just mad because he's actually having to face the consequences of his actions for once." 

The lackadaisical triplet yanked the strings of his hoodie in opposite directions, leaving only his beak visible, before stuffing his hands in his pockets and turning away. 

Dewey furrowed his eyebrows and opened his mouth slightly, flashing you a brief smile when he felt you grip his wrists. "What hap-"

You suddenly slammed your foot against his stomach and flipped him over your head, sending him roughly crashing onto the floor behind you. 

Louie immediately peeked over his shoulder before scrambling to his feet with a gobsmacked expression, while Huey gawked at the sight. 

Webby scurried out of the way as you hastily jumped up and began sprinting down the corridor, watching you with a mixture of sorrow and hope.

Heart pounding and legs quaking, you rounded the first corner. All sorts of elegant paintings and sculptures lined the walls, but your eyes never left the end of the hallway. Every tandem of focus was wholly devoted to your next step, but as the frantic and enraged cries of the triplets roared from behind like a tidal wave, a sprinkle of self-doubt and terror began to infect your mind. 

Your speed was coming into question and the hallways only seemed to grow longer with each breath while the debilitating parasite of diffidence dug deeper into your psyche. As you swore you felt a hand graze the back of your shirt, the image of the front door came into view and with it, a renewed sense of determination. Pumping every bit of strength left into your legs, you raised your hands and pointed your palms at the entrance. 

Angling your body forward, you careened into the front door like a wrecking ball, bursting it open and landing on the porch. The concrete slapped your stomach harshly, and your elbows roughly skidded across it, but you used your arms to break your fall and protect your head.

"Curse me kilts!" 

The moment the Scottish accent registered in your disoriented mind, a wide smile appeared on your face before being replaced with a look of exhaustion. You lifted your head to see Scrooge McDuck staring at you with a box of treasure in his hands, eyes wide. He was your new trump card. 

The wealthy duck noticed your skinned elbows and weary visage and quickly set the box on the ground, concern entering his gaze. "That was quite a nasty fall there. What's your hurry," he asked, offering a kind smile as he extended a hand to you. 

You reached out to take it and opened your mouth to ask for salvation when someone suddenly tripped over your legs and collapsed on top of you. Letting out a grunt, you peered over your shoulder and saw a frantic and confused Dewey. 

Huey and Louie emerged soon after, the former only a hair's breadth away from a nervous breakdown, while the latter was panting and seething. 

Your face twisted in desperation, and you turned to beg Scrooge to pull you to your feet. To your horror, he was retracting his hand and reaching for the box of spoils from his latest adventure.

"Ah, it's one of you kids' 'games'. Sorry to interrupt." The old duck tipped his hat at the four of you and lifted the loot into his arms. 

When he began to step around you, a spark of adrenaline surged through your veins and prompted you to grab a fistful of his red coat. "Mr. McDuck, I've been here for almost a week. My parents are worried sick, and I need to go home now." 

Scrooge stared at you as if you had slapped him before an uneasy smile gradually expanded on his weathered face. He started to agree, but Louie interrupted him. 

"Ignore that, Uncle Scrooge. They're just being dramatic because they lost the game." The lackadaisical triplet dismissed your pleading with a chuckle and a wave of his hand while Huey and Dewey brought you to your feet and kept a firm grasp on your arms. 

Knowing your chance was slipping through your fingers, you looked Scrooge in the eyes and said, "My parents called me earlier and told me to come home." The triplets had confiscated your phone days ago, but they were not about to admit that to their uncle.

It was the perfect trap, and Louie's silver tongue was unable to counter in time.

The wealthy waterfowl nodded in understanding and entered his mansion, balancing the box in one hand and holding the front door open with the other. He looked back at the four of you expectantly, and the triplets reluctantly released you and stepped aside. They stayed on your heels once inside, and when Dewey tried to hold your hand, you scurried closer to Scrooge. 

The old duck shot you a small smile, although it felt a bit strained, and the faraway look in his eyes suggested that he was contemplating something significant. Scrooge paused at the beginning of the stairs and looked at you with an odd glint in his eye. "I'm just going to hand this off to Beakley. Then I'll give Launchpad a quick call. You kids can wait here." 

His expression and tone betrayed nothing, but you could not shake the feeling that he was subtly asking if you approved of his plan. 

Every moment spent alone with the triplets was a gamble you did not want to take, but before you were able to voice your objections, arms wrapped around you from behind and pulled you into an unwanted embrace.

Dewey's cries echoed in the foyer as he clung to you, tears brimming in his wild, wide eyes and cascading down his cheeks like his own personal waterfall. He was beseeching you to stay, but your resolve never crumbled for even a moment. 

As Huey staggered to your side, gnawing on the spine of his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook like it was his favourite delicacy, Scrooge squinted warily and hastily ascended the stairs. 

Louie was the last to approach you, his expression one of frustration and fear. He dug his hands into his pockets and scowled at the floor, breathing frantically. "You're coming back, right?" 

Huey, twitching and fidgeting, lowered the book and shot his youngest brother an incredulous look before blurting out, "Of course they are! They need us!" The neurotic triplet tilted his head and laughed hysterically, a deranged smile stretching from ear to ear. "We take better care of them than anyone else could ever dream of!" He began to recite rules from the guidebook and mutter gibberish, rocking back and forth on his heels.

As you impatiently awaited Scrooge's return, the triplets encircled you and implored you to reconsider in various forms. Dewey's pleading was nearly incomprehensible due to his sobbing, Louie attempted to bribe you with everything he could think of, and Huey ranted about how no one in the outside world was capable of protecting you as well as he could. 

You did your best to ignore them.

When Scrooge finally emerged from the top of the stairs, you were on the cusp of racing forward and hugging him, for two of the triplets immediately fell silent and backed away at his presence. 

Dewey continued to weep, and his grip did not slacken in the slightest. 

The wealthy waterfowl descended from the elegant steps and began to guide you to the front door, sporting a deadly serious expression. He gently removed his great-nephew before stepping outside with you and shutting the door, ensuring that his next words would be private. 

"Beakley told me everything." His voice was low, and his gaze settled on the horizon. "Webbigail informed her of my great-nephews'-" he paused, struggling to find the right phrase, "-abnormal admiration for you."

The old duck observed Duckburg in silence for a while before sighing and turning to face you. "I can't guarantee that this'll be the end of it. If those three inherited anything from their mother, it was her stubbornness." Scrooge glanced at the door with narrowed eyes, knowing that the triplets were most likely pressed against it and trying to hear as much of the conversation as possible.

"Still, I'll do my best to keep a rein on them." He peered towards the gates of his property, spotting Launchpad's limousine cruising up the driveway and steadily nearing the mansion. 

You watched the approaching vehicle in silence, only desiring home. 

Scrooge leaned against his cane and turned his head to smile weakly at you, having too much on his mind to offer anything more. "If you'd like a wee vacation from Clan McDuck, I'd understand." You merely nodded, whether in appreciation or simple acknowledgement, Scrooge was not certain. He decided to stop talking regardless. 

As Launchpad pulled up and got out to hold the door open for you, the wealthy duck quietly bid you goodbye.

His troubled gaze followed the limousine until it reached the gates and disappeared behind the wall. Then, his countenance collapsed into a foul scowl, and he spun around, throwing the front door open. As the old duck expected, the triplets fell onto the porch in a pile, gasping and grunting in surprise. 

Huey recovered first and looked up only to come face to face with his great-uncle's seething visage. "Kids. In my office. Now."

yandere-toons, all rights reserved.

Way to go superstar! 💫

The cutest cat

(Source)

To Calm a Storm

This is the fourth part of my “when he knew he loved you” series.

Lucifer | Mammon | Levi | Satan | Asmo | Beel | Belphie

Warnings: None

Pairing: Satan x GN!MC

Words: 1080

2:56PM

Satan resists a growl as he paces in a small, tight circle in the corner of the RAD library. His fingernails, which are on the verge of becoming claws, are biting into his palms. He hopes he’s not bleeding. He’s planning on meeting you, as he often does between classes, and that would be embarrassing.

Fuck, he thinks, as he wrenches his hands apart to see angry, red crescents on his palms. But no blood, that’s good. Either way, he can’t let you see him in this state. The very idea is enough to make him feel sick. Satan sinks into a chair at your regular table in the corner and takes a deep, deep, breath, trying to steady his nerves. Trying to forget the argument he’d just had with the professor of Pactology.

You’d once mentioned that slowly counting to ten was a human method of controlling one’s anger.

So, he gives it a try, and he can almost feel it working. Then he hears your voice as you say goodbye to some of your friends outside the library’s entrance. His eyes snap open and he puts on a pleasant smile just as you appear from behind one of the tall shelves. As you approach him, your own bright smile falters.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” you ask, giving him a once over. Satan’s eyes widen briefly and he closes his hands.

“What? I’m fine,” he says slowly, carefully. To avoid it coming out from gritted teeth.

Your eyes search his face as you drag a chair over to sit next to him. After a quick inspection, you determine that something is wrong. “No, really, what happened?” you ask, placing your hand on his shoulder.

His eyebrows bunch up, “you can tell I’m upset?”

You nod, “you’re a good actor, Satan, but I can tell when something’s bothering you.”

Since the metaphorical cat is out of the bag, he sighs and starts to tell you about the argument he’d just had with his idiot professor. How she’d been giving the class the wrong information.

And when he raised his hand to correct her, she had to gall to scold and belittle him, as if there were no possible way a student could know more than her. Then ended her barrage against him by calling him the wrong name.

“She called you Lucifer?!” you screech, mortified. This earns you a glare from one of the librarians. You shrink into your seat until they pass by. Once the coast is clear, you ask again, in a more appropriate tone, “she called you Lucifer?”

“Yes.” he grits out, knuckles turning white as he grips the armrests. They’re probably moments away from being ripped off the chair.

“I’m sorry, Satan.” You rub at his arm in an attempt to sooth him. The two of you sit quietly for a few minutes. Your hand moves to his back, rubbing gentle circles between his shoulder blades. His eyes are closed and he subconsciously leans back against your hand.

You can feel the tension leaving him with every circle you make.

“I apologize.” he mutters, under his breath.

“For what?” you ask, hand temporarily stilling. He opens his eyes to look into yours.

“That you found me in such a bad mood. I was trying very hard to get myself under control.” he whispers. You smile softly and continue to massage his back.

“Satan, you’re allowed to get upset, ya know? That’s part of being... alive.” (You were about to say human, but that isn’t exactly applicable is it?)

“Yes, but—”

“No," you interrupt, “she was being unfair. She didn’t hear you out and she was being horrendously disrespectful. You had every right to be angry. As long as you don’t act on it, it’s okay.”

“Do you really feel that way?” he questions, with a head tilt.

“Of course I do. You didn’t destroy the classroom or threaten to disembowel her or something. You’re just irritated. Ya know, I’m surprised she started a fight with you anyway—”

“Because I’m Wrath?” he guesses, hurt written on his face.

“Because you’re very smart. And you’re the only one who gives half a fuck in that class.”

He blinks in surprise, then groans softly, “everyone thinks I’m just a copy of him. It makes me so…”

“I know, I know,” you whisper, moving to sit on the arm of his chair. He looks up at you. “You’re not a copy of anyone. You’re Satan. You’re the most intelligent, most well-read, kind, witty, handsome—” you slam your free hand over your mouth.

He smiles again, it’s genuine this time. You look away, face turning red.

“Um, I’m gonna go find a book on ancient pactology and we’ll show that old hag!” you say, standing abruptly before wandering off in the completely wrong direction. Satan laughs softly, then touches the back of his shoulder where your hand had just been.

He watches you stumble over your feet, then realize you’re going the wrong way. As you turn towards the correct section, you nearly walk into a bookcase. He chuckles again. His anger dissipated.

Something else flutters in his chest, he puts his hand over his heart. It’s not anger, or fury, or rage. It’s something much… softer. Lighter. Unfamiliar.

Once you return with a book, several hundred years older than you, you carefully set it down before opening it to the back. And as you run your finger down its index, Satan only looks at you.

If the books he reads are accurate, this feeling could only mean one thing. His eyes scan your face.

“Here we go,” you say, pulling the book towards him. Then you start to read a passage which probably proves his point, but the words aren’t quite registering. “See, you were right!” you exclaim, pointing to the words.

“Uh,” he glances down to read the details of how pacts were formed in the days long before your birth. “Of course.”

“Didn’t doubt you for a second,” you smile before looking up at the clock behind you. “Uh oh, my next class is in four minutes! I’ll see you later.” you say as you get up. You pat his head softly before exiting the library.

And suddenly his cheeks are on fire.

(He totally doesn’t sit there for the next fifteen minutes, imagining your hand on his back. And he certainly wasn’t late to class for the first time because of it. No sir.)

–

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<3 Aerie