#ALSO no i did not look at horse anatomy at all so if it's fucked up (which it is) no it isn't <3

[jorvikzelda]

So. Star Stable's Spotify header.

I saw this on a little trip to SSO's Spotify page to see if they'd released any music without announcing it again and went hm. This looks kind of weird. I sure hope they haven't stooped so low as to use AI for their promo material. And then I looked closer.

First thing I noticed was the stirrups. Or, should I say... "stirrups".

Did they like... employ someone who doesn't know how tack works? What IS that? Also I'm only noticing this as I'm writing the post but why on earth does the boot not have proper laces or eyelets

And what the fuck are these weird straps on the saddle? And the guitar straps aren't attached to the guitar?? Actually... it can't be... but let me look at the hands. Just real quick

Uh. hm. that's not very hand. Are they fucking using AI

OH BOY.

The bit and the reins are... not properly attached to one another, just welded together. The noseband just disappears. The buckles at the top of the bridle don't really exist and the chin strap doesn't fit properly at all. The reins are double on one side, but not the other, and one or both of the reins on the far side almost look attached to the breast collar - or they're just being held a lot looser than the near side rein. Also, you need a very specific type of bit to use double reins, which is not the type of bit that's on this bridle. Or maybe the two weird straps are supposed to be a fucked up martingale, and that's why they're attached to the breast collar? But then why does the horse only have one rein? Also the martingale is attached wrong if that's what it's meant to be, see below (it's never attached directly to the bit). The breast collar is also attached to the underside of the saddle, rather than the saddle itself like it should be. The horse's front shoulder looks like it's drawn by someone who doesn't know very much about horse anatomy, or... y'know... AI.

The cart isn't fucking attached to the fucking horse. Poor guy is dragging that thing along with one singular back leg.

The keyboards all have the wrong number of black keys in the wrong places. And also those knobs do not look right. Oh, and something is DEFINITELY wrong with that drum kit.

And also just look at this fucking horse. Yeah, it's passable as a horse, but have you seen the quality of SSO's horses and horse art??? This isn't even anywhere CLOSE to that

So yeah uh, SSE used fucking AI art for their spotify banner. I feel like this is the greatest punch in the gut they could've possibly sent their laid-off artists' way. You cannot defend this.

#z talks #ssoblr #sso #sso neg

[neesieiumz]

𓆩☆𓆪 | 𝙾𝚄𝚃𝙻𝙰𝚆 ⸺ ⚞����𝙴𝙸𝙽𝙴𝚁 𝙱𝚁𝙰𝚄𝙽 ⚟

⸻ synopsis ⫸〖 it's not every day a criminal breaks into your home, huh?〗

⸻ warnings ⫸ sm*t. 18+ wild west!au. part i of the gold rush anthology! bar-maid!reader. robber!reiner. black-coded reader. female reader. afab anatomy. p*rn with plot. full nelson position. fingering. a bit of dacryphilia. reiner threatens reader with a gun. the two of them get comfortable with each other really quick. reader calls her mother a bitch in this. reader was raised by her late grandmother cause her mother abandoned her. Erwin is in this, who was also raised by reader's grandmother. sheriff!erwin. erwin sees reader as a niece/daughter. annie and bertholdt are also in this, but they don't matter.

⸻ writers note ⫸ this has been sitting in my drafts for the past two months because I wanted to finish the next part of the anthology. I just finished the Erwin one, so I'll upload it when I'm halfway done with the Eren one or fully complete it.

⸻ word count ⫸ 5.7k

masterlist. | next part in the anthology |

Heavy boots sunk into the mud, and loud voices called out to the dark forests. The sounds of horses neighing, catching up against his hunched-over form. He ran as fast as he could, dodging the trees and branches, boots snapping the sticks and stones within the wet ground. Hand clutching the bleeding wound, he glanced around, looking for something, anything to get him out of this situation. His partners were long gone, taken into arrest by the law. They told him to run, to get out while they distracted them. 

He tried his best to blink away the tears, the sudden burn possibly due to them being mixed with the sweat dripping down his face. He’ll get the rest of them out, he resolved, he first has to survive this. Glancing up and around, a large shadow was right up ahead. Squinting, the blur came into focus, before revealing a small home. It was well kept, but all the lights were out, which was all Reiner needed. He jumped the fence, flinching at the sudden stab of pain in his abdomen. He limped towards the back door, pulling out his old trust lock pick before jimmying with the lock. He hissed out a yes as the door creaked open, before hobbling right inside. Gasping, he leaned against the door, hearing the sounds of the law running by. 

“What the…”

A voice called out, before suddenly, a dark glow illuminated the room, revealing a decently sized kitchen. A gasp rang out, as Reiner looked to the light, seeing someone standing there. 

Fuck…

He pushed himself up to his feet, immediately running over to you, who immediately screamed before running away, possibly to your bedroom. Despite his injury, he had just enough adrenaline to catch you, pulling your arm back. He muffled your screams with his hand, wrapping you in one big hold as he dragged you away from the hall, before taking you right back to the kitchen. He could hear your muffled whimpers against him, the feeling of your body shaking against him. 

He pressed his lips against your ears, “just stay quiet for me darling, and all will be right.” 

Reiner pressed himself against the counter, waiting for the sounds to go away. As he did so, he could hear your own sounds beginning to quest, however, the feeling of wet salty tears began to soak his hand. Just as they were beginning to go away, a sudden loud knock came out the door, jilting the both of you. 

“Y/n, it’s Erwin, are you awake?!”

Reiner cursed under his breath, heart pounding away at his chest. He stepped away from the counter before looking at the door, seeing a tall figure standing right at the door. He then looked back down at you, before telling you not to scream. Slowly he let go of your mouth, removing his hand from you before grabbing the top of your dress, wiping away the slowly drying tears on your face. 

“You gon answer that there door, and pretend like I’m not here. Say whatever you gotta say, alright…?”

You nodded your head quickly, and he nodded his own, before taking you by the hand and draggin you over to the door. He stood at the side, one hand still pressing against the wound while the other, pulling out his revolver, holding it up. You glanced over at him, seeing him nod his head. Taking a deep breath, you reach over, unlocking the door with the key still stuck on the knob before opening it up just a little bit, enough to see the sheriff of your town. Erwin Smith, a man both you and many people in this town respected. He was very close to your family, especially your grandmother, having helped her many times while she was still alive. So seeing him and talking to him was an easy occurrence for you.

“Hello there Erwin,” you let off a smile, hoping it wasn't wavering too much.

He let off his own warm smile, “hey there cherie, hope everything’s okay?”

You nodded your head, “everything’s fine, was just about to head to sleep when you knocked.”

For kickers, you looked behind him, seeing a bunch of horses and men standing on the front of your lawn, “what’s going on here?”

He looked back to see the people before looking back at you, “well we were trying to catch someone, and he ran right through here. I was hoping you saw something?”

You pondered a bit, before shaking your head, “haven’t seen a thing sheriff, sorry. Everything was dark for me.”

He hummed, before reaching down, pulling out a sheet of paper, “if you're so sure, take this. His name Reiner Braun, a dangerous felon known for robbin’ and shootin’ people.”

You slowly took the folded sheet, before peeling it open, those familiar eyes brown malice staring right back at you. 

You looked up at Sheriff Smith’s warmer ones, smiling, telling him you’ll keep on the lookout for him. He nodded, before turning around, and heading back to his own horse. As you waited to watch him go, you could hear a sudden thump right beside you. Closing your door, you glanced over to the right only to find the very man now slumped on the floor. The hand that was holding his side was now soaked with blood, the sounds of his slow, heavy breaths echoing in the living room. You glanced over at the door, at the muffled sounds of the sheriff telling his men to move out and continue looking before looking back at Reiner.

Letting out a defeated sigh, you walked away heading towards your kitchen before going to your sink and picking up an old tattered rag. Dampening the rag, before grabbing a bucket, and filling it up with hot water. Before walking back to the dangerous criminal, you bent down, grabbing the small bucket your grandmother deemed an aid kit, along with the bucket of hot water. Walking back to your living room, where Reiner Baun, which was apparently his name, was now writhing and bleeding out on your grandmother’s hardwood floors. Bending down, sitting at your knees, you grabbed the dirtied dress shirt he was wearing before slowly unbuttoning it. His large body dripping with sweat, you removed the shirt as much as you could, revealing the irritated wound. 

You took the rag, leaning down before removing his bloodied hand from the lasting wound. Slowly, you pressed it against it, applying as much pressure as you could. He fought against you, but his strength greatly dropped, allowing you to continue to press against it. He let out deep heavy groans, all dripping with pain. Soon, the tattered rag was soaked with blood, removing it before dipping it in the hot water, washing off most of the blood before pressing right back on. Soon, the wound stopped bleeding, just enough for you to get the gauze and the large sheets of cotton to wrap it. 

Once you did so, staring down at your shotty work of a doctor, Reiner’s own eyes slowly opened, looking over at you. 

“Should have let me bleed out on your floor,” he let out a low raspy groan, still in pain.

You scoffed at that, “and let you ruin my grandmother’s floors? She’ll rise up from her grave to scold me with a hot comb.”

He let out some formance of a chuckle, smiling a bit. Taking a deep breath, you stood up before heading down your hallway Stopping at the small closet, you owned it before taking the few spare pillows and blankets out. Walking back, you found the area where you left him empty before seeing him rest right on your couch. Pursing your lips together, you walked over to him, before handing him the blankets. 

“Here, sleep as much as you can, then I want you out of my house, all right now?”

He blinked at you, smirking before taking the sheets and pillows from your hands. 

“Thank you mighty kindly, cherie,” he cooed, placing the blankets on the couch beside him. 

You hummed, before glancing back at your kitchen. He’ll probably need something to eat so he can heal faster… is what you thought to yourself before walking towards the kitchen. He said nothing, only turning his body as much as he could, watching you walk away. His eyes lingered on your backside, before looking away, focusing on his accommodations for the night. 

Pulling out some bread, some meat, and other things from your ice box, you made him a couple of sandwiches. You took it to him as well, seeing him all laid out and spread out on your couch. Tongue poking out your cheek, you handed him the plate. 

“Just for you to heal faster, body can’t work without something to fuel it,” you said, turning around once he took it. 

He said nothing, although his smirk said all his words for him. You took the lamp that illuminates the kitchen, before walking away. Just before you walked inside your bedroom, his voice called out to you, 

“Good night, cherie!”

You turned your head and glared at him for a few seconds before walking back into your room. He let out a chuckle, before taking the sandwich, taking a large bite from it. 

Slowly opening your eyes, the feeling of sunlight beaming through the trees and through your window jolting you awake. Lifting yourself up, stretching with a smile on your face as you look around your room, ready to clean yourself up and head into town for work.

Three… two… one…

A frown immediately overtook your face, oh wait…

Pushing yourself off your bed, and grabbing your robe off of the bed frame, you flung your door open. Slowly stepping into the room, carefully listening for anything that didn't sound like your creaky footsteps. As you reached the living room, no sign of the man from last night on your couch. Glancing around, not seeing him in your kitchen or hearing him in your parlor room either. Nothing was missing either, luckily. Least he had that courtesy, you thought to yourself. 

That’s when your eyes caught onto something sitting on your kitchen counter. Walking towards it, eyes widening as your eyes locked into two stacks of cash sitting one by one, a piece of paper sitting under it. 

Picking up the paper, you gazed over it, 

For all your troubles cherie, now and in the immediate future, 

⸺ r.b

You couldn’t fight off the excited smile, as you picked up one of the stacks, sniffing it before squealing. 

“Oooh, my mother would tell me to return it… too bad that bitch wasn’t the one who raised me!” 

You placed the money in a hidden area in your room, before getting ready for work, which was at a bar in town, the only one within the area you lived in. The town was large, a farmer’s town with miles and miles of land tended by a multitude of farmers all around. It would probably be called a city to others, but you weren’t like them city folk. Wearing a creme dress, shoulderless with loose, wave-like sleeves. You paired with skin-colored pantyhose while placing your work shoes in a bag. You put on your walking shoes and grabbed your keys and other things you need before heading off, locking up the entire house, especially your back door. You walked through the pathways in the forest, glancing at all the heavy footsteps and horseshoe grooves within the damp ground. 

You soon made it to town after fifteen minutes of walking, waving at the locals around town before making it to your destination. Despite it being early in the morning, the bar was bussing with all different walks of life. Smiling at the bands of men calling out your name, waving at them before arriving at the bar. You shuffled into the bar, waving at your friend, who was serving three people at once. She owned the bar, inheriting it from her deadbeat of a father. The two of you had been friends for a long time, ever since your mother had sent you here when she moved to the “sophisticated” parts of town. 

“Hurry up and get up here! There’s orders to be taken, you know!” She said, giving one man his tall glass of beer. 

You headed to the back room, placing your bag down, before switching into your taller heels, with cotton-padded into them for a bit more comfort. You’ll be on your feet all day. Looking in the mirror, swiping your lips with gloss before placing your long plaits into two pigtails, tying them with matching creme bows before walking out. As you walked out, you grabbed an apron, tying it around your waist as you took your station around the bar. 

Your friend sighed in relief as you helped her out, taking the few plates in her hands before asking which table they went to. 

“The Garrison boys over there in the back, and there should be a few more coming out.”

Nodding your head, you took them down, plastering a smile on your face as you approached their table.

The morning continued like that and continued well into the afternoon as well. Your job was a rush, but the pay was very good and included a mountain of tips as well. As night approached, things slowed down just about as all the men soon had to return to their wives or head down to the secret club behind the old platoon which their wives didn’t know about. The door chimed open, glancing up and only for Sheriff Smith along with a few of his men standing right there. 

Glancing over, you see your friend tidying herself up, pulling her long locs out of her deflated ponytail, and letting them fall. Smirking at her, with her not even looking at and flipping the bird before carefully walking over to the area they had overtaken. As she spoke, having a shimmering smile while she looked down at Erwin who sent her his own award-winning smile right back. You looked back down at your work, which was wiping down the counter and preparing for you to head back home. Your shift was over soon since your coworkers didn’t like you walking back while the moon was too high at night. 

They had once asked you to consider actually moving into town, but you wouldn't have it. This was the home you were raised in, the home your grandmother had raised your own mother in. 

“Cherie, wait a moment,” Erwin’s familiar voice called out to you, just as you put the rag away, preparing to head to the back room to get your things. 

You turned around, seeing the tall man tower over you. You don’t know why, but your heart began to slightly pound. 

“Can I help you, sheriff? This ain’t about last night, isn’t it?”

He grimaced a bit, “m’fraid it is, lemme walk with you to the back?”

You glanced over at your friend, who looked between the two of you, shrugging her shoulders and nodding her head before focusing back on the others in the bar. The two of you walked together down the small hallway before reaching the small room where all the workers had placed their own things. He opened the door for you, thanking him as you walked inside the room. As you found your things, Sheriff Smith began to speak. 

“As you know, last night, we were chasing a very dangerous criminal, who had reached the forest where you live.”

You nodded your head, “yes, and you knocked on my door and you asked me if I had seen anything, and I told you that I had not.”

He nodded his head, “yes, yes you did. We continued to look through the forest, but he was gone. Like he disappeared within the wind, cherie…”

You nodded your head, “yes… is there something else you wanna say, Erwin?”

“This morning my men conducted another search, to make sure we didn't miss anything, and we found heavy footsteps… leading away from your home.”

Your heart dropped to your knees, lucky your back was still turned away from the sheriff so you turned to pack your things, flinging off your shoes as you pretended nothing was wrong. 

“Heavy footsteps, leading away from my home… is there something you wanna say, sheriff?”

Heavy boots walked closer and closer to you, as you turned around and faced him, face calmer. 

“I just wanna know the truth, cherie, you know you and I go way back. Your own grandmother helped raise me after my father died. You're like a niece to me, and I hate to see you in some trouble.”

You took a deep breath trying to calm your beating heart, however before you could say anything, the door suddenly slammed open, revealing an out-of-breath officer. 

“Sheriff, the other two thieves escaped their cell!”

The tall man cursed, hissing under his breath before running out of the room, not even glancing back at you. Once he was gone, hearing the muffled sounds of the rest of his men following suit after him, you let out a breath of relief. You soon walked out of the room, grabbing a box of food from one of the chefs for dinner. You waved goodbye to your boss, before walking out of the bar, the cooler air of the night hitting you. It was still hot, so there was no need for a jacket as you walked away, heading towards the forest into your home. The walk to your home was quicker than the walk to the bar, soon arriving at your home. As you began to pull out your keys, you could hear muffled sounds inside the home.

No…

Inserting the key, you flung your door open, seeing three figures lounge around on your grandmother’s couch. 

Locking eyes with familiar hazels, seeing him smirk before lifting up his glass, holding a beer, “hey there, cherie.”

You could almost scream. Instead, you stepped inside your home, closing the door before dropping the bag right onto the floor. You glanced around the room, seeing your table and floors all messed up and dirt tracked all over your floors, and you could almost guarantee that your icebox was nearly empty. You stepped over the trash, ignoring the two unfamiliar pairs of eyes watching as you approached the larger blonde man. 

You stared down at him, with him looking you in the eyes. Unbreaking your stare, you pressed your hands roughly against the side of his waist, right where the wound you wrapped was. He cursed, screaming as you did so. 

“Yeah, that’'s what you get, now y’all better clean this fucking house or else!”

The two others with him snickered at Reiner, seeing him being kicked around by you. Hearing their laughter, you turned towards them, eyes sharp in glares. 

“Don’t think I ain’t forget yall yet, yall get up too and clean this fucking house! Or else, I’m getting Erwin down here!”

Immediately the two of them shot up, one of them towering over you all like a giant. You pushed them all around, making sure they picked up all the trash and scraps they had put on your floor. You rested on your couch, entertaining yourself while you ate your food, still hot luckily. They were kind enough to chop up some wood for your fireplace, enjoying the warmth as they picked up the last of their mess. Once they were finished, the two unknowns had plopped down onto the couch, while Reiner made himself comfortable right beside you. He leaned down, mouth wide open, trying to get a bite of your food, but you pushed him away, grimacing as he laughed out loud. 

“Think you can fuck up my house, and eat my food, you have another thing coming,” you mumbled, eating the bit on the spoon. 

“Aww come on cherie,” he mumbled, landing his head on your shoulder, “i'm still hungry!”

You rolled your eyes, “go and find something else to eat, maybe in prison, where you all belong.”

He smirked, “and yet, you still hadn’t turned us in, cherie. Plus, I paid you kindly for your services, thinking that “immediate future” was a joke huh?”

You rolled your eyes again, scoping up the last bite, before hovering the spoon in front of his face. He glanced in between the spoon and your face, before eating it, humming as he did.

“Thank you kindly, cherie.”

Ignoring the warm feeling his raspy voice gave you, as well as the looks the two others gave each other before glancing back at the two of you. 

“How long you are staying here, Reiner, along with your two little friends, because Sheriff Smith is sniffing around me,” you gasped slightly before extending your hand, smacking him in the head again.

“Hey!”

“Be careful where you stepping when you leave next time, cause they was sniffing around and saw your fucking footsteps!”

He suddenly smirked, “‘next time?’ huh?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, before raising your hand at him again. He immediately held his hands up and surrendered, scooting a bit away from you. Annie and Bertholdt snickered, looking at the two of you. Getting up, walk towards your kitchen to put away your bowl. Reiner followed after you, a teasing smile on his face. Cleaning off the bowl, drying it, and putting it away, feeling him stand dangerously close behind you. Drying your bowl before pushing past him, heading towards your living room. 

“So I’m assuming you're staying the night once again?”

Reiner nodded his head, leaning against the wall, “hope you're alright with that, cherie.”

You narrowed your eyes at that, “didn’t I tell you to stop calling me that?”

He shrugged his shoulders, tucking his hands into his pockets. You glanced over at the three of them, before rolling your eyes.

“I’m gonna take a bath, y’all better figure out how y’all gonna sleep.”

You sat amid your room, ignoring the sounds of the felons taking shelter within your home. Sitting at the vanity table your grandmother had the in-town carpenters built for you when you turned fifteen. You looked over at the set of picture frames, mostly filled with photos of you and her, one with Erwin as well. Picking up one of the picture frames, the last birthday you were able to celebrate with her before she passed. 

“Is that your grandmother?”

Screaming, jerking up, knees hitting the table, as you turned, seeing blonde hair in your peripheral.

“God, don’t do that!”

He stood straight up, watching you as you turned around in your seat, still holding the frame. 

“And to answer your question, yes, yes it is.”

He held out his hand, and tentatively, after glancing between his face and his hand, placed the frame in his hands. He looked down at it, smiling a bit at your wide smile, arms wrapped in the smaller frame of your grandmother. 

“The two of you look alike,” he says, handing you the frame.

Your mouth curls up into a slight smile, and you place the frame back on your vanity, “everyone used to say that about us, and that used to include my mother as well.”

His eyebrows quivered at that, “your mother? Is she still alive?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “yep, sipping on fancy margaritas and livin it up in the big city with her rich old-ass husband.”

“Forgot she had her own mother and a daughter too, didn’t even come for the funeral, even after me and Erwin sent letters.”

He hummed, “Sheriff Smith?”

You nodded your head, “after his own daddy died, my grandmother watched after him. My mom and he were sweethearts once, but she decided this lil ole town was too small for her but taking care of her daughter was too big for her.”

“What about your father?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “never met the man, grandma always told me she’d wring him by his neck if she ever saw him again. Says he’s the reason my mother took off to the city and never looked back, but I think she was putting blame on anyone but her.”

Facing the mirror, the lamp illuminated the side of your face. You could see Reiner still standing behind you, his face cut off from the mirror. Crossing your legs, feeling a slow, churning throb in between your legs. 

“I like to think she would have helped you when you first arrived at my door, despite threatening me with a gun. She always had a knack for getting in trouble, and helping people who didn’t deserve to be helped.”

You could feel his hands beginning to rest on your shoulders, his actions not stopping your spiel. 

“Which is why, had my mother come through that door when she was still alive, she would have taken her back in on the spot.”

He hummed, leaning down towards you, seeing a few of your tears rolling down your cheeks. His face lingers over your shoulder, looking over at you. You glanced over, looking at him straight in his eyes.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to rant about my life, you’re still a stranger technically.”

You began to move away, but his hands tensed, keeping you right in your seat. His left hand moved from your shoulder, sliding across your chest, reaching up to your neck. Letting out a shaky breath, shivering as he moved your head back towards him. 

“Don’t gotta apologize, cherie,” he mumbled, thumb stroking your cheek.

Your body turned as well, your leg swinging over the bench as you faced him fully. Your body, responding to some unknown force, leaned forward towards him as he leaned closer to yours. 

“Reiner,” you gasped, right before he rushed forward, lips capturing yours.

The kiss was deep, and heavy, as his hand stayed tight at your neck, his other, sliding down your body. He grabbed at you, pulling you right into his lap. Your moan was muffled by the kiss, your hips slowly grinding into him. His hand soon left your won, settling right on the other side of the bottom before effectively picking you up. Unremitting as he approached your bed, placing you right on it. For a moment, he let go of the kiss, reaching down and unbuttoning his shirt, before pulling it off his body. As he threw his shirt onto your hard-wooden floors, your own hands reached up to his buckle belt, feeling his erection press up against his jeans. Reiner smirked down at you as you unbuckled, sudden haste pushing you. Getting the tough fabric off, Reiner did the rest, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. 

He soon leaned back down, climbing in between your legs before capturing your lips into his once again. Your hands slid up to his face, the feeling of his scruff against your hands and face. His hands slowly slid up your thighs, going right under your nightdress, gripping at your waist, pressing further into you. You could feel him pressing into you, the feeling intensified by the pressure he placed on your waist, easily keeping you grounded against him. His hands soon left your own, one pressing against the back for your thigh, pressing it as far as it goes. The other moved down your dripping wet pussy, two large fingers easily spreading your lips with ease. Gasping for breath, immediately choked on a moan as he pressed one finger, entering slowly within you. He moved from your mouth to your neck, as he moved his fingers in and out of you slowly. His lips were still wet, allowing him to leave soaked kisses against your skin. 

“Reiner,” you gasped, fingers weaving into his hair, messing up the blond strands. 

Back arching as his pace quickened, the lower half of your body trembling under him as you pulled harder against him. He whimpered against your skin, the feeling of you pulling his hair eliciting a deep feral feeling within him. Everywhere was heated, the air, your skin, your thin nightdress bunched up at your waist. Drool dripped from your tongue as you took everything he gave you, everything and more. 

“Lord,” you sighed, body aching all over, “I really shouldn’t be doing this, lord.”

Reiner chuckled, “I can go ahead and stop, if you need me to?”

You twisted your hand in his hair, “you bet not.”

He said nothing, chuckling one more time, but his kisses continued, trailing down to your chest, dipping into the valley between your chest. At the same time, he pressed another finger into you, your arousal coating his fingers. Your slip dress had long fallen off your shoulders, allowing him to reach them with ease. His journey continued down lower and lower, his hand still lingering on your thigh sliding down. The two of you hadn’t noticed the lantern dimming in the background, as the room was soon engulfed with darkness, nothing but the high moon shining over the two of you. Shuddering, twisting against your blankets as he plunged his fingers deep inside you, resting his head against your stomach. 

“Damn, didn’t think you’d be good at this, fuck…” you sighed, as your hips surged up into the air. 

“...that a challenge, cherie?”

Despite the immense arousal and pleasure flowing through your veins, you smirked down at him, “take it as you want, cherie.”

His eyes darkened, his unrefined look getting more and more feral. Reiner suddenly pulled his fingers out of you, taking a quick sniff before placing them in his mouth, tasting your arousal. Suddenly, he rose up, towering over you, before grabbing both of your legs. Squealing as he pulled you up from the bed, easily carrying you into the air. His hands grasping at your ass as he held you up, holding you up in the air. Your hands couldn't help but wrap around his shoulders, looking down into his eyes. 

“Reiner, what are you doing—” you started before being cut off by a loud gasp escaping your lips. 

You hadn't noticed him shifting his boxers, before feeling him sink into you deeply. Your sounds hadn’t deterred him though, his tight grasp on you as he moved you up and down his cock. The sounds of your moans echoing through the mid-sized room, the feeling of your tight wetness, only urged him more, deep, raspy moans spilling from his own mouth. His fat cock stretched out in ways others hadn't yet before, muddling your mind as he moved in and out of you. His brute strength allowed him to pull you nearly off him with ease, before plunging right back into you. His hips slamming into you, the possibility of leaving deep dark gnarly purple bruises all over your inner thighs. 

“Sosososo good, sos deep, oh my god!” Your mouth slurred on their words, head thrown back in euphoria. 

“What was that you were saying before?” he suddenly questioned, pulling almost completely out of you, leaving only the tip. 

Gasping, whining at the sudden prolonged loss of him. Your whines and squirms did nothing for him, only smirking up at you as he awaited your answer. His hands fondled you, squeezing your bottom rigidly.

“Tell me how good you feel, and maybe I’ll continue.”

Convulsing, aching for him to continue, your resolve fully crumbling. Reaching out towards him, your shaking arms attempt to pull him towards you. 

Your mouth spelling with pleas, “please please don’t stop, god I take back what I said. Keep fucking me just like that.”

He took in your words, his smirk getting wider and wider as you twisted, tears threatening to fall down your face. With no other words, he slammed back into you and continued pummeling you as if nothing happened. You clung onto him, and your head was thrown back as he did so. Reiners's efforts and actions electrified you, feeling your body jerk, a familiar pounding feeling building up within you. 

You let out a gasp, before letting out, “Oh god!” hissing as you came, clear liquid spilling out of you. 

Your cunt clenched around him, causing him to groan deeply, grounding his face into your shoulders as his thrust became erratic. His unsteady movements caused you to choke, his heavy breath rumbling right into your ear. 

“So good, fuckfuck,” he growled, slamming into you a few more times before letting off one final groan. 

Letting out a shaky moan, feeling him suddenly pull out of you, feeling his release land right on your stomach and thighs. Breathing heavily, legs shaking as he slowly lowered you onto the bed. Reaching over, grabbing his shirt that had landed right on your bedpost, using it to wipe away the mess. 

“Can’t have you getting pregnant now?” Is all he said, wiping away his mouth. 

You rolled your eyes, smacking him on the head as he threw his shirt back onto the floor. Just as you began to cover yourself up in your sheets, you felt movement beside you. Looking back, seeing Reiner getting into the bed with you. 

“Aht! What the hell you doing?! If you don’t get out?!”

“Aww, come on cherie, don’t make me sleep out here on that little couch. Nearly broke my back the last time I slept there. Plus,” he added, gesturing down to his wound, “I’m still wounded.”

You narrow your eyes, “didn’t seem like you were injured just a few minutes ago.” He still didn't budge, causing you to roll your eyes at that, “fine, but you better make some damn breakfast before you fucking leave.” 

He smirked, agreeing to your demands before continuing to pull the blankets up and around the both of you.You turned back over, snuggling into the bed, feeling Reiner’s weight shifting beside you. His eyes burned into the back of your head for a few seconds, before suddenly feeling an arm sling over your body. You rolled your eyes but suppressed the smile appearing on your face before snuggling yourself into his warm embrace

taglist: @kanekisfavoritegf @daisynik7 @where-the-blackbirds-sing @nathalunalune @secretanimesimp @kentucky-fried-me @levin4nami @liv-vy @mortqlprojections @invisible-mori @desiray562 @liliorsstuff-blog @sophiiluvvs @magictrump @ventdavi154 @ircngirl @lostinbeidou @missmadness123 @introvered-violinist @dior-fawn @saway4ma @reallongwire

#reiner braun smut #reiner x reader smut #reiner braun #reiner smut #reiner x black reader smut #reiner x black reader #shingeki no kyojin reiner #reiner x y/n #reiner x reader #reiner x you #black reader #aot smut #aot x reader #aot x black reader #aot x y/n #aot x female reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan smut #attack on titan #reiner braun x black reader

[iron-sparrow]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers (ू•‧̫•ू⑅)♡

In no particular order!

LIFTING BIG WEIGHTS. It is a mental and physical struggle I absolutely enjoy, and very few things on this green(ish) earth can give me the same high lifting does. My current highest number is 253 lbs/115 kg for 2 on sumos. The other day I did 227/103 for 3 without pausing. Also, depressed queer lifters are some of the best people you could know!

I freaking love anatomy. Sorta ties into why I'm so into lifting weights + watching others lift. I am obsessed. We all joke about our shitty our meaty flesh suits are, but have you ever just sat and thought about how intricate they are and how long it took nature to evolve us into such efficient sweating endurance machines despite our other shortcomings? I mean, I hate running (flat feet suck), but the IDEA of how long we can hypothetically go for because of how our bodies work mechanically is mind-blowing. And have you seen how an Olympic lifter utilizes momentum and balance with their incredible strength to lift as much as they do off the ground and above their heads? The breakdown of every single limb's motion and muscle movement is SO beautiful that I can't even... WHEEZE...

I don't consider myself a writer, but I really love writing more than drawing sometimes -- no offense to my art degree that definitely wasn't a waste of time or anything. Something about processing images through words just hits different. A freight train slowly crawl by on the tracks versus a bullet train zipping across its rails; a horse breaking into full sprint; bird beating its wings against the air in very specific patterns; houseplant slowly changing directions as it seeks light. My heart feels so heavy that it's threatening to slip from my ribs down into my stomach in search of an escape from the pressure building inside my skin; I think if it burst, I would see it turn my breath into the same abyssal blue we perceive the ocean to be.

I guess music is another sure way to feel anything, including "happy." Some friends of mine talk about stimming with specific types of music, and I think back to how often I find myself unable to function at all without something playing in my ears. I'm actually prone to sensory overload (high ceilings WHY), so I will always carry around headphones or earbuds with me to help! And really, I'm content to listen to the same tune on repeat for 12-14 hours to stabilize my mood. This fucks with my Spotify statistics in the funniest way. Plus, people are more likely to leave you the fuck alone when you got headphones on, and I like being left alone. (Social misanthropes, rise up.)

My friends make me happy, and I am incredibly blessed to have friends that love me. When they can't support me directly, they walk alongside me so that I can still see their shapes while I traverse the fog. They ask me how I'm doing when I change medications. They tell me my muscles look nice after I've finished a gym session. They watch my OCs turning on the hot dog warmer with me. Some nights, when I'm struggling, I remind myself that I'll be able to talk to them again when I wake up. ♡

#tag game #ask game #oh boy oh boy AN ASK! #thank you Pigeon my fren #for putting this in my inbox #ooc post #thx for reading all that

[real-oddity]

Real Oddity's 2023 Art

Hello hello, gay people in my computer, it's that time again! Time to look at my art over this year! Feel free to look at 12 pieces that I did throughout the year. Enjoy :D!!

January- Fluffybird hyperfixation was in FULL SWING, WOW! I was in a really good groove early in the year, and was getting a lot of nice work done, including these idiots! I've changed how I draw these boys, but I still really like the shading for the most part! Generally holds up well. The background is pretty cool, too! I drew it myself :]

February- Luz Noceda my beloved! The Owl House was my favorite show for a while and still means a lot to me, so I felt like drawing Luz! Overall not very happy with this piece, like the shading, and also the nose, but I love the tears and eyes :D! Also hey those weird funky angular hands I used to draw, what ever happened to those-

March- BALDI!!!!! I was such an indie horror kid, man, so when I found out I had like. 12 hours to get a drawing done for Baldi's anniversary, I fucking jumped at the chance. I'm proud of that fact, but yeesh that shading is a little gross color wise. Also I could not draw lips, ears, or noses. I still can't, but I'm better at it!

April- oh god not them- So I was into Homestuck for a bit lol. I haven't finished it, and don't know if I will, but that's beside the point! Honestly this piece still holds up! For a colored sketch, I still like it a lot, especially Whimsy's hands. Dieonn's chin though... god you can tell I'm ass at perspective-

May- Oh my goodness, it's Wally Darling! He's just the most~ This was a practice in perspective, which as mentioned before I'm not great at!. I think it came out well, and while the shading isn't realistic for a felt body, I still like it :]

June- Oh my goodness he's multiplying!!! Run, run! This was me still trying to wiggle into the Welcome Home fandom (and failing lol) This was also a practice in both just drawing Wally, and composition! I didn't do great, but hey, it was good practice.

July- Oh my gosh it's him... the birthday boy- So the Daycare Attendant stole my heart a few years back when I was really ill and recovering from some trauma, so I of course had to make something for Eclipse! I wanted to test painting, and honestly? I like it a lot, at least dirt wise. He looks so grimy, I love it, ah!! Still needs more work on the lighting, though.

August- God dammit he came back again >:[ I was getting excited for all the new fnaf stuff, so I decided to draw Springtrap, the animatronic that scarred me so much as a kid. I'm actually still pretty happy with the general lighting. Like, there are a few things I have notes on, but overall I still like it :] Also the wires were fun, hehe

September- Mr. Darling is back again! I decided to try my hand at digital painting again and!!! I am still really pleased with the results. Pretty man!

October- Oh god its The Horse Show- For Cringetober, I drew a rarepair of Rarity and Sassy Saddles from MLP:FIM. I'm still super super happy with the horse anatomy, they're so cute! This was also a test in cell shading.

November- Circus time! I thought the pairing of Jax and Kaufmo was kinda funny, so I drew them. This was another test in composition and such, and general interactions. I still think it's alright :]

December- JANUARY EVERLY MY BELOVED SON!!! God it's been a hot minute sense I've done any illustrations with Jan. This was me just dicking around tbh, but hey! The results are fun! I love my son <3

2023 was so much better than 2022 in many ways. I'm looking forward to an even better 2024, and I hope you'll join me!

#text #my art #oddity's art #fnaf #tadc #mlp #welcome home #homestuck #dhmis #toh #bbiel #wrong turn #wrong turn comic #jan wrong turn #january everly #red guy dhmis #duck dhmis #yellow guy dhmis #fluffybird #luz toh #luz noceda #eclipse fnaf #springtrap fnaf #jax tadc #kaufmo tadc #meanjokes #rarity mlp #sassy saddles mlp #rarisaddles #wally darling

[mcrmadness]

4, 7, 10, 13, 16, 20, 29 and 30 for the artist ask 👀

Thanks!!! That is so many (and I am delighted!) /gen

Also get some snacks or something because this is going to be a long, LONG post :D You know how much I love talking about arts!

4. Fav character/subject that’s a bitch to draw HORSES. They make no sense, the anatomy is fucked up, and they are impossible to draw well!!! I drew them sometimes as a kid, then I started actually practicing drawing them after the age of 11 thanks to the DreamWorks film Spirit: the Stallion of the Cimarron. (Or whatever the fuck it is how the name is written, I never remember the articles correctly!)

It took me years to draw them using references and I think I did reach a point where I could draw the legs semi-well without references, but honestly, I still don't understand the legs. AND I AM A HORSE GROOM. I have been STUDYING horse anatomy for school, I had to study and learn and be able to name the bones and tendons in horses' legs, and I have stared at images and photos of both horse skeletons as well as alive horses, and also photos of horses with a skeleton painted on their fur, and I have been looking at and handling real horses' legs from up close many many times - and I still cannot grasp how on earth the bones between the knee and hoof go when drawing. I don't know what is it, the second I see the skin and fur and hoof there (since there is no muscles from the horse's knee down, only skin and bones and tendons), my brain starts adding there bones and joints that are not there.

Here's my so far newest horse drawings, after over 20 years of practice:

And they are drawn without any references and I'm pretty proud of the legs even tho they're not exactly correct. But I guess I still have it even when I don't draw them that often anymore!

7. A medium of art you don’t work in but appreciate Oil paint and acrylic paint, or painting in general. I have never ever been a painter, but more of liked to work with pencils and markers and just anything that is capable of precise tiny details. As a kid all my drawings used to be so so detailed and tiny that it took me one water colour lesson in middle school to understand that hey, I possibly cannot finish this painting ever if the paper is A3 and I draw there objects that are less than 1cmx1cm in size, and I especially cannot colour them properly with water colour because it's not made for small details at all. I have always struggled with bigger sized artworks, my comics etc. are always quite small, but photorealism is usually on papers sized A4 cos there I then again suck at drawing e.g. faces that are smalled than a hand.

But yeah. Painting, it looks awesome and the paint (especially oil and acrylic, but also guache and in some cases water colour) blend in ways that pencils and markers are not capable of. They are great for landscapes for example, cos abstract brush patterns work great as leaves etc. for trees, but that is something that is difficult to achieve with my tools of choice that work with detailed images better. I did lots of acrylic painting in school and art school, and I never ever liked it because it's so messy and I was probably too young to understand how to work with them properly. I probably should give them a try again one day, because I have slowly been trying out water colours again after learning to hate them at school due to wrong supplies (too thin paper, or a rubbish brush for example), and it's not as bad as I remembered it. Maybe I could view acrylic paint differently too as an adult, and while having the power to choose my topics.

10. Favorite piece of clothing to draw Hmmmm. I'm not a fan of drawing clothes, all the loose fabric is very hard to imagine, but I also don't want to draw characters naked so I'm just gonna draw them clothes XD Back in the day I would have said: shoes. But my current drawings have very boring shoes - except for that one time when I drew Rod with his New Rock flame boots which were so much fun to draw as a New Rock shoes fan! :D It was this one:

But I think my actual favourite to draw is the blue 80s jackets Bela and Farin often wore, they are SO MUCH FUN to draw with markers! And this is why:

Okay in general anything coloured with this blue marker works - but I just LOVE IT how it reacts to the blender marker (lifts off colour very efficiently!) and how you get this texture that actually makes the colour look like the jacket was 3D! (This one is taken from my Richy Guitar comic from 2022.) I don't know why it doesn't work this well with other colours tho.

13. A creator who you admire but whose work isn’t your thing There is this one Japanese... manga? artist whose works I sometimes see on my dash or in videos about art. They are often in black&white, made with ink or something. I really like the technique in those and in a way it resembles it how I sometimes make my b&w marker drawings. All the art I have seen from him looks really neat and the topics are interesting, but it's just that manga/anime style that is not my cup of tea and what causes it that I haven't gotten into his works. I can't even remember his name but it's possible that someone might recognize whom I am talking about if someone else is reading this, that's how popular he is also among the western world.

16. Something you are good at but don’t really have fun doing I am gonna say: photorealistic portraits of people. I have many of them because every time there's been a while since the previous, I start to think about how I wanna draw another one but I have always forgotten about how the drawing process is actually not that enjoyable. It's so restricted. I have to draw a grid or my brain and eye will fuck up the proportions. My brain has temper tantrums even when following the grid because it claims I'm doing it wrong, but in the end the grid was always correct and I just can't SEE the proportions right. I can't improvise pretty much at all because then I will fuck up the proportions again. I need the faces to look like who they are supposed to be, or I will hate myself and feel like I disrespected the person I'm trying to draw. So it's stressful. It's lots of redrawing and erasing until the paper it so worn out the colour is no longer lifting off and there's nothing I can do about it.

The succesful end result always looks neat, but oh so boring. I can recreate a photo with a pencil, so what? It can't get any more boring than that. It's just boasting with "hey look I can copy an image with my hand!" but there's nothing else to it. There is no soul to the drawing. There was no learning going on, unless it was something for the tools or techniques, but no learning about how to draw something specific. It's just redrawing until it looks close enough and lots of blood and tears. People online really like photorealistic drawings because many non-artist people don't understand how it's done, but for me photorealistic drawings and paintings have become really boring to look at, and progress videos are boring because I know how that is done and I know how it's gonna end up looking like. There is no surprise to me, because I understand the key elements of drawing: shadows, midtones and highlights.

I really want to have a semi-realistic style that would look neater and less confusing with my shippy drawings, but I just suck at drawing proportions and faces so I'm unable to draw them so that they would look like my targets. That's why photorealism is not fun, because it just reminds me of how I can't draw human faces even without a grid.

20. Something everyone else finds hard to draw but you enjoy People often hate drawings hands and avoid doing that because they find it difficult to do, but I actually enjoy it. They're still difficult, but that's why I often use my own hands as a reference. And if I can't see my hands in a posture I want from my own POV, then I will just take a photo with my phone and use that. The easiest way of getting references ever, no need to google for the exact specific posture when I can just grab my phone and there I have it. This has also allowed me to memorize stuff in the muscle memory and especially with my comics I need the references less and less, which is nice. I think my style in drawing hands is evolving and I'm enjoying the results more and more. (Fun fact: people in my comics always have 5 fingers instead of 4!)

This is from one of my newest drawings:

I like so much how this turned out! Tho the cost was that the 3 other hands did not turn out that well - but at least this one did and I really like it :D (And also how it reminds me of my own favourite comics from when I was growing up - aka the French and Belgian comics such as Asterix or Lucky Luke!)

It's from this drawing which I have posted on Tumblr as its own post before:

29. Media you love, but doesn’t inspire you artistically Oh there are so many medias I enjoy but don't do any kind of fanart of, if this is what it's asking. My fandom behaviour is so weird cos usually I channel my artistic tendencies on just one media or hyperfixation at a time, and the others don't make me want to draw a single thing about them.

And then what comes to medias created through visual arts... such as cartoons, animations or comics. Well usually I am drawn to the visual side of them too. That is one big reason why I don't watch anime and don't real manga, because the art style is not my cup of tea at all, so I would find it hard to focus on the stories either. The same goes for most modern-day cartoons, I just hate the art style majority of them uses, and I'm so visual person myself that I just can't even think about trying them out cos I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be able to get used to them even if the story would be somewhat funny or interesting.

You can see lots of influence in my art from the comics and cartoons I grew up reading and watching, occasionally I feel like you can even see the Dream Works (or Pixar) animations in my art because I, also, grew up watching some of those films. That is what I do, when a media is artistically appealing to me, as a tribute I will take inspiration and pieces of it to my own art but make sure to not base it fully on anything. My art really is a collection of all the art styles I like, and I feel like if lookng at them closely, you can see "cameos" of art styles from everything from Asterix comics to, say, Tim Burton characters.

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated Everything? :DDDDDDD No but, every single piece that makes me go "OMG THIS IS PROBABLY THE BEST THING I'VE EVER DRAWN" and which always gets the most quiet response ever. Those I feel are the most underrated pieces. Often the ones that get the most feedback or notes/likes are the ones that make me ask "but why this? what's so special about this? " and I never get any answers.

Anyway, as of today, I still think this is the most underrated piece what I have drawn. I'm still so proud of this, the puns(?), and how much there is going on, and how no one can tell what my original idea was. Even I can't tell, because I'm not sure. It can be interpreted in so many ways, and I like each of them.

THANK YOU SO MUCH it was so much fun to answer to these!!! /gen I hope you also have fun reading these :D

#fichtfoxfuchs #ask games #mcrmadness draws

[demonicsoulmates-art]

Art Class - Some thoughts and notes

So, yesterday (17 April 2023) I had my very first official art class.

I've always been self-taught, and I find my art extremely lacking in some areas. After growing unhappy with my latest sketch, I contacted a colleague who I knew has a degree in Art, asking her if she knew of any classes. She offered to teach me (before you say anything: yes, I'm paying her), and yesterday evening we had our first lesson.

More under the "read more" because this is going to be really long.

She asked me to bring my most recent drawings and, between the digital drawings I printed and the pencil ones, I had I think 16 drawings. This also prompted me to get a folder where I can actually store it and keep it organized, so... Great.

I won't show the drawings I brought, but looking at them, my teacher said we need to work on anatomy and volumes (the depths).

She showed me some of her anatomy drawings and a book on anatomy. I'll either borrow it next time, or find a similar one at the library.

She proceeded to show me mannequins - you know, those very common ones you see artists use. She explained how normally, a human is actually 7 heads and a bit or an half, not 8, which is the "heroic" proportion used in comics. And then we looked at the mannequin, and she asked me to draw him.

So, as you can see, we started from the very basics.

First of all, though, she asked me "where do we start?"

The answer is "composition". She made me check the paper sheet and asked me to decide where I wanted to put it, and to find the highest and lowest point. Then, she asked me to divide that in half, divide those two parts in half, and again.

We didn't focus on the deeper anatomy, BUT we did focus on the proportions of the human body, and where the various parts of the mannequin/human body had to go if we looked at the various divisions I made.

The one of the left is the first drawing I made - she taught me where all the parts went, and how I could check proportions if the model/mannequin/whatever wasn't in a still position. She made me see that the hand takes from chin to forehead, the foot is the same length as the forearm, and how arms are way longer than I thought (they reach the halfway point of your thighs). Also how the bigger chest part ends where the last rib ends. It may seem really stupid, okay, but the realization stuck for me only when I saw my teacher point it out on her own body...

The second sketch I did in class is the mannequin walking, seen in side view. I fucking hate side view. Again, though, we looked at the proportion of the body parts and where they should go. My teacher made some corrections as I went, and I had to delete it and re-do it a few times.

Then, shit became harder by a ton. My teacher brought in a horse doll (the ones children use) and put the mannequin on it.

Again, we found the highest point and the lower point, but from my drawing you can see I didn't get it right. But the horse part for the composition was hard. She asked me how I could divide the paper, and I proposed in three parts and I did, but again, you can clearly see I screwed up because I thought the horse would be bigger.

We checked how the mannequin and horse related to the three parts, and we saw the back of the mannequin meeting the back of the horse was right at the end of the second part. Again, we divided the mannequin and then tried to see where it's body parts needed to go in relation to the horse. With some trial and error, we managed to do it, which makes me really happy. I also pointed out some horse anatomy to the teacher which she didn't notice herself that made the drawing better (I used to do horse riding, and my teacher then also gave us a lesson on horse anatomy fjdkdldl).

Somehow, an hour passed. My teacher gave me two sheets with drawings of mannequin figures doing things.

She asked me to do sketches of mannequins in various positions and to understand where the body parts go - or even not do the full mannequin but a skeleton like in the picture (so, I really need to get that anatomy book lmao)

The second sheet focuses on movement instead, particularly from the side.

I asked her if I could send her my homework sketches before the next class to see if what i was doing was correct, and she was really happy because she said she usually has to beg students to do it lol.

Since I want to improve and I want to use this blog more, as it deservers, I'll show y'all my future homework and stuff too

#my art #artists on tumblr #art class #sketches #practice #anatomy

[wwolflesbian]

Alright here’s my Nope take cause I am struggling to not talk about this movie. Posted under the cut to not spoil those who haven’t seen it.

what Nope asks you to do, dares you even, is to see the unrelenting horror that wild animals can do to humans and still recognize that it’s not their fault. It demands of you to not forget the animals.

The scene with Gordy (or rather, the chimpanzee who was forced to be Gordy) is unbroken. You don’t get to look away from the absolute violence of it. This chimpanzee is terrifying and the best way to describe the scene is that it feels like a nightmare you can’t wake up from. I’m sure Ricky would have described it the same way. I literally can’t describe the events in a way that would be more powerful than how I felt sitting there watching it. Words fail to describe the horror.

Similarly the next sequence of events in the movie shows Jean Jacket hunt, eat, and digest 30+ more or less innocent people. Yes they were messing with something they shouldn’t have been whether it was aliens or not but at the end of the day most of those people certainly didn’t know the scope of what was being asked of them. You think everyone in that crowd believed with 100% certainty what Ricky was saying? Or were they just signing up for what they believed was gonna be a Hollywood light show to waste an afternoon with?

And we have to watch all of those people trapped in the folds of Jean Jacket’s anatomy. We hear their screams and we see their suffering. Dozens of people’s lives ending almost at random. This including children who definitely didn’t deserve to be eaten. Then with one simple “swallow” all the screams end and we know that their bodies have been crushed and turned into nothing but fuel. And their blood rains from the sky.

AND YET the movie asks you to see ALL OF THAT and still come away with the take that both the chimpanzee who played Gordy and Jean Jacket were victims. The chimpanzee was a wild animal who was being pushed and prodded and not understood. It did not understand what it was doing before it fought back. It didn’t know who was friend and who was foe, it didn’t know what clothes are or laugh tracks or fucking balloons. The first thing we see OJ do when getting Lucky ready for the run with Jean Jacket is introducing her to all of the elements of the plan including the tube men and everything that could scare her and she does GREAT because she knows what everything is now. The chimpanzee who played Gordy did not get that treatment and frankly shouldn’t have even been there in the first place. The idea of puppeting around a chimpanzee like that is so cruel I can’t even properly articulate. That chimpanzee was innocent and so were the actors it killed because they didn’t get any training either. The problem is the system of people who decided that putting a wild animal in that room to squeeze money out of the suffering of it was funny and cute and ok. The same system of people who decided making an SNL sketch about it was in any way acceptable. Just squeeze more blood from the corpse and keep walking.

And the same could be said of Jean Jacket. It was also being used for entertainment, it was also misunderstood and abused and malnourished. I mean shit it was probably starving only living on one horse a night for months and here is this big ass stadium full of people who just antagonize it every day by shining bright lights in it’s face and blasting loud speakers as it and making it dance for scraps. Yes it is undeniably more powerful than anything else in the area, the undeniable king of the food chain, but as with all predators it doesn’t just kill randomly. If OJ, Emerald, and Angel could learn the rules on how to safely co-exist with it than anyone could while also recognizing that the first step in respecting it is to stay out of it’s territory. Yes you can reasonably argue that Earth is simply incompatible with this creature, like a whale in small tank when it’s supposed to have the freedom of the ocean, but that doesn’t make that creature unreasonable. Jean Jacket was also innocent.

Either way, both animals were killed. Both animals get title cards just like the horses who died before them. A memorial.

#Nope #Nope Spoilers

[innocenceinyourarms]

Another one for prompt on day 8 of Vamptember. This one is for “movie” My OC Ezra finds himself caught in a time warp when watching a film his girlfriend (Penelope) and his roommate (Lydia) recommended to him.

Please excuse whatever structure issues here. I tapped this out on my iPhone in the notes of Pinterest and then edited it in notes and here. Some names have changed, and I’ve found that some of the historical details are entirely inaccurate (bachelor marriages were an acceptable practice in Ezra’s day as a cowboy)

Ahh fuck it, it’s all for play anyway.

Here we go.

It’s a hurt comfort piece. Trigger warnings for gay angst, depression,

I was watching some new and innovative film that I’d missed in my absence, something called “brokeback mountain”. My darling Nellie and dear Lydia implored me to watch it after I failed to understand a joke made in the comments section of a music video.

As their student, I have little reason to resist what they say I must invest my time in. Theirs is so much more limited than my own. so if something is of value to them, it must mean something.

And This film must be important if it’s name holds enough significance to garner a reaction from all, even those who have not seen it. A phenomenon this large? Why I couldn’t let it pass me by when it was offered to me for free.

So there I was, sitting and watching… well, I could only describe it as a portion of my life. Scene by scene I watched as these beautiful souls were tortured by their one secret. A union that they shared under my beautiful Wyoming sky, a union not unlike my own.

The times were different, but I knew this story well. I felt a great shame washing over me as my throat pressed through my chest and up my throat as my thoughts drifted to those days long ago. Drifted to the days of horses and cattle and late nights lit by campfires and stolen glances between songs written by coworkers and tall tales told by strangers.

To The Calloused fingertips of a working man brushing my cheek, my lips. The feeling of being so small in his powerful arms as he crushed against me, legs tangling together, lips locking as we rocked against each other in that sacred rhythm we all know. our hands exploring anatomy that was the source of this beautiful, agonizing sin.

Those hot nights.

My beautiful Adam. Precious to me, more experienced than i and yet two years younger.

Oh please teach this greenhorn the unspoken law of love!

My cheeks burned as My dark wash jeans suddenly felt just a little tighter.

I leaned on the arm of the couch, holding up my head , my hand creating a visor as I pressed on. Would it end the same way for them too? A sorry glance, tip of the hat “see you ‘round” and that’s all?

I did not want to know and yet I needed to know. This is new. Surely the lovers will have a happy ending the way Adam and I never could, right? My Nellie and Lydia say things are very different now. But are they?

The film hadn’t finished its run before my darling came to find me, her hefty crossover bag still on her shoulders, hair neatly slicked back and put up, clothes mussed but clean. She smelled like another vampire’s blood. She had killed tonight. Probably that young ruffian she’d been having trouble with. Ben? I think that’s what she said his name was. I don’t know.

I didn’t see if she looked at me, but it wasn’t a moment after she walked in before she came to my side. She sensed something, almost certainly. She did always have an almost preternatural ability to read my states.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” She gracefully perched herself on the cushion by my side, my eyes flickered to her, then back to the screen. Her eyes awash with uncertainty, full lips pressed together in a pouting frown.

“I’m fine, lovely,” I turned to her, and took her hands in mine as reassurance, my eyes meeting hers fully for the first time tonight.

“You’re lying to me.” She offers the statement flatly, a suggestion but also not.

I let out the heavy sigh that had been building inside of me for the past few minutes. She glanced over at the screen.

“You’re watching that movie I told you about”. A light smile came across her face, more maternal in nature than anything I’d seen her display prior.

“Yeah,”

“Do you like it?”

My head bobbed up and down, but I felt the tears begin to well up and slip from my eyes.

“Oh honey,” she breathed and drew me up in her arms, wrapping me in her warmth, her security.

I couldn’t help myself.

I fell to pieces.

She rubbed my back. Stooping, she rested her head on my shoulder. I heard her start to hum a couple bars from a song that might’ve been familiar. I couldn’t tell you.

I’m not sure how long we spent like that. It could have been mere moments. It could have been several dozen minutes before I pulled away.

“What’s eatin ya?” She pressed me once more.

My eyes flickered to the screen and back to her.

A realization lighted her face like the first rays of sun hitting water. she took my hand again

“oh my god, I didn’t know. I am so sorry.” There was a beat and then “honey, are you gay?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. She of all people should know that I very much enjoy women. Just last night I demonstrated that to her quite thoroughly.

She seemed to realize her mistake as well, as not a moment later she attempted to self right:

“Well not… like… you know what I mean.”

“Yes, things change afterwards,”

I had never uttered one word to a single soul, living or dead about this passion I’d held as a younger man, the passion I still had to admit dwelt inside me. The passion I always did my best to rid myself of only to have it come rocketing out of me with only the slightest of encouragement.

I didn’t need to elaborate. The answer was plainly obvious without words.

“Baby,” her words were pregnant with compassion tinged with concern tinged with love, “it’s okay.”

My heart felt lighter, just hearing her say that. Beautiful. She is beautiful.

I never thought I would feel such love again.

“I love you no matter what”

It was the first time she told me she loved me, whole and unprompted, though I’m not certain it registered. She continued:

“You don’t have to tell me a thing if you don’t want to. That’s your prerogative. But I’m always here to listen, when you need it”

“Thank you,” was all I could muster.

“Now,” she rose to her feet “I gotta go take a shower, you good?”

“Yes, darling. I’m fine. Enjoy your shower.”

“ I will,” and with that, she continued on with her nightly routine as though this had never happened. Each step carried out like clockwork, her routine playing out before me as seamlessly as a well respected ballet. I knew the choreography well.

Hang up the bag on the over the door organizer between the wool pea coat and the genuine leather motorcycle jacket.

Reach up tug the elastics securing her hair to allow two, thick twin herringbone plaits to come tumbling down to just above her waist. Undo one elastic, the other. Begin unbraiding the left side of braids she put in at her green room vanity. Shake it out. Repeat for the right.

Look at the fingernails. Were they dirty? Her hands. We’re they

bruised? Forearms. Any marks?

She glanced up to find that I had been watching her carry out these little rituals. “You sure you’re okay?” It was phrased as though it were a question but also a fact.

“Yes lovely,” I repeated “please go and take your shower.

“Okay” she nodded and opened the door. She half slunk out out of the room but before she could leave, I felt my soul leap to my heart. Like lightning striking an umbrella. I had to say it.

“Penelope ,” I called to her

“Nellie dear, I love you”.

She peeked her head around the corner, I could swear her eyes were glassy with tears, but I couldn’t be fully certain.

“Yes. Thank you.” her voice was thick. Those were tears in her eyes. Before I could go to her, she had disappeared upstairs.

I listened as I heard each footfall above my head, so distinctly hers. Step step step. She’s in the kitchen. Step step step shes by the cupboard. Step step the water is running. She had a little drink. I closed my eyes and imagined watching the muscles of her mouth, chin and throat as the cooperated together to produce this simple motion.

She has such a pretty throat. The skin is so light and tight and warm, the line so delicate as it curves and progresses into her shoulders… there’s so much room there, so many places to kiss. It was like she were built for this kind of love.

I felt my jeans tightening again as my mouth watered and my gums begin to contract, my fangs becoming more prominent, just negligibly peeking out over my bottom lip.

Step step step step I imagine each languid stride

step step step she reaches the bathroom at last.

Not long after I heard the toilet flush and the water run. I could not resist the thought of her in her purest element, enjoying the relaxation rolling though her from scalp to sole. The steam tickling her face and the smell of the fine Korean soaps she uses. I didn’t want to resist those thoughts.

My jeans continue to constrict around me as I think of joining her and what may come of that action…

but then I hear Heath ledger’s voice and im dragged back again.

Adam. My Adam. What did I do, what could I have done? dont leave me I love you. My hungry soul cried out like it hadn’t since those days gone by.

I had that particular feeling come over me. That particular feeling Not unfamiliar to those who have a loved one pass

That old ghostly feeling that Adam was here in the room with me in this the year of our lord 2022, though it was not true and impossible.

A shameful disapproval rips though me like a hellbent twister. How could I even dream of Nellie and I weaving our bodies together under the hot water after what has happened tonight. After what she bore witness to!

Yes. I am filthy. I know this.

Finally I take the remote in hand and exit to the menu, just as I’d been shown.

only the image of the theatrical release poster, a misleading blurb and two options reading “play” and “add to watch later” remained on the red and grey screen. I didn’t turn the tv off.

I rose from the love seat, leaving the room and entering the little cement closet space I’d crafted into my sleeping arrangements. my bed was waiting for me there, unmade. The blankets, sheets, pillows. All mismatched. Helter skelter.

I didn’t want to change my clothes to something less restrictive. I didn’t want to brush my teeth. I didnt want to brush out my own hair or take my own shower or anything else I might do to keep up the veneer of human normalcy. I want nothing.

I want to flop myself down on the bed and bury myself in the ragged and plush hand me downs Lydia generously gifted me.

I want to feel my girl. I want to feel her weight and her warmth and her hot breath against my neck as she curls her body around me and I make myself as small as I can.

I want to burrow deeply with my darling, my heart, my Nellie by my side, holding me together so that I don’t break apart as we sleep.

I want to wake up tomorrow and face the night ahead unscathed by this past, looking forward into my future. Whatever that may look like.

#writing #writer #mine #creative writing #spilled ink #characters #love #prose #vamptember #vampire #vampires #OC

[memento-morri-writes]

funny animal thing: my sister’s golden retriever (his name is duck and he just turned one) regularly falls down the stairs because when he gets excited he forgets he has legs also he looks like this

OH MY GOD, I LOVE HIM!!! Clumsy baby!!! Animals who are unaware of their own anatomy >>>>>>>. Also, he has the very best name of any golden retriever ever! So very fitting for a a fluffy yellow baby. Please give Duck many, many pats on my behalf!

I love goldens so much. They're literally fluffy rays of sunshine, and I have never met one who was not an absolute angel. (and I've met several.)

In exchange, I have a story about a clumsy horse.

Under the cut, because brief mention of past animal neglect! (Don't worry, he's being well taken care of now, and the story in question is not sad at all!)

So, at the barn where I took riding lessons (I only stopped because of uni.), there is a horse named Taco Tuesday. He's only 3, and is very sweet. His previous owner had him in a pasture that was much, much too small for him, and it was frequently very muddy. Because of this, Tuesday would avoid moving around a lot.

Because he grew up in that space, he never really had a chance to figure out how his (now much larger) body works. He's physically healthy, and now has a very, very large pasture to run around in. However, he doesn't know how to carry his own weight, nor does he know how big he actually is.

So, his gait is very, very wonky (it's not harmful to him at all, but it needs to be worked on before someone can ride him.), and he's a bit clumsy.

One day, I was at the barn, and all the horses got called into the smaller pasture where they wait to get brought into the barn for dinner. (Easier to catch horses in a pasture that's not the size of a mall.) Horses are, in general, food motivated, so they always come RUNNING when the gate gets opened.

Tuesday is no exception. So, he was galloping along, with his goofy little gait, and just so happened to run under a tree. Because he doesn't know how tall he is, he hit his head on a branch. Rather than stop, he just kept running, but did an excellent impression of conveying the "fuck, where did that come from?", despite being a horse.

He absolutely has not idea how big he is, but he is very sweet and will make an excellent riding horse once he figures out his gait and can start to be ridden! As it is, he already behaves wonderfully with a halter, being in cross ties, etc.

Anyways, he's a big clumsy baby, and I love him.

#Morrigan replies #animals tag #mr-writes #pet tag #animals <3 #dogs <3

[spinchs-field]

(SLAMS OPEN DOOR)I WANNA LEARN ABOUT FUCKED UP BACKSTORUES

(i don’t have a drawing of all of them together, but here’s all four of my mascots/sonas! Tangerine and Pawpy are mascots, Ghost and Vulcan are sonas, hence why they look basically identical. also please excuse Vulcan’s wackass anatomy, this drawing of it is old)

this is gonna be kinda long so everything’ll be under the cut

so Tangerine and Pawpy have pretty tame backstories, actually. 

Pawpy was a contestant in an object show with Frito (yknow. the ita bag from a few days ago). she got eliminated, but the elimination process is basically teleporting the contestant back to their home. somehow, the teleportation got all out of wack and Pawpy got teleported to Ghost’s dimension, where he now lives with the other three!

Tangerine doesn’t actually have much development as of right now, but he probably lived in a world where everything was made of sweets, kinda like Candyland (yknow. the board game)! something went wrong and he ended up in Ghost’s dimension, just like Pawpy did. Tangy has nearly been eaten so many times it’s not even funny. 

[ this is where things start getting dark. warning for mentions of murder and cannibalism for Ghost’s story. some vague gore, cosmic horror, and slight religious themes for Vulcan’s story ]

Ghost is um. a special case. he’s currently dead, and has been for a while, hence the name, but when he was alive, he was very much a fucked up guy. he’d kill and eat people, nearly every single month. he was constantly on the run from police despite the fact they had no idea it was him committing all the murders. hell, he even killed his own fucking roommates because they tried to call the cops on him. however, ever since he died, he kinda just. chilled out, since you don’t really need food or any energy at all to survive as a ghost in his world. i mean, he’s already dead. what’s he gonna do, die again?

Vulcan’s story is more of a tragedy than anything. he was a prince blessed with the ability to speak to the gods. because of this gift, he was kept locked up in his family’s castle. his parents were very loving, don’t get me wrong, they just couldn’t bear to know what would happen if someone against the royal family found him in public. for a big majority of his life, Vulcan desperately wanted to leave and explore the kingdom. his parents never allowed it. one night, he snuck out and took his horse out into the woods. for the first time, he felt truly free... until he began hearing the gods warn him about the consequences of this action. he ignored them, and they got more angered, shouting so much that it began to give him an agonising migraine. he powered through it, but his horse got caught in a bush and he fell off. the gods, blinded by their rage began to literally rip him apart. however, they had to keep their prophet alive, so they began replacing his body with their own. the energy released from this sort of cosmic horror event caused him (along with the gods that basically are him now) to get teleported to another fucking dimension.  (side note; people can’t really perceive Vulcan in a normal way. he either looks like a sort of... smudge in your vision or your brain trying to messily fill in the gaps. a lot of people would describe him as looking uncanny, or like a 3D model of a fictional character. no matter what you think he looks like, it’s always a hazy memory in the end. how i draw him is how he actually looks; just a living universe. he does have eyes btw, this ref of him is just outdated.)

#the crops #funny fella #also omg pronoun check for them #Tangerine uses he/him #Pawpy uses he/she #Ghost uses he/him #Vulcan uses he/it/they #also you can refer to Vulcan by any greek god's name. Vulcan is just its birth name #oc: Tangerine #oc: Pawpy #oc: Ghost/Gabriel #oc: Space Boy/Vulcan

[beckydoesthings]

various fics of hxl that i adore reading! this list is quite lengthy, but feel free to message me if you have any questions!

*will continue to be updated. also, if i mistagged you, i apologize, i do not know how to tumblr*

Love Is a Rebellious Bird

E | 134k | @100percentsassy and gloria_andrews

AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Don't hum Bolero.

i think this tickled every bone of my musical self and also made me cry (are you seeing a theme here??) one of the first fics i fell in love with and one i keep coming back to.

Collision

E | 226k | @tequiladimples

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

(Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

the world building in this one is insanity - so much good mythology mixed in and it made me screech with joy. i think i can firmly say that i did not expect where the plot went, but that made the story so much better.

Flour and Chocolate

M | 145k | @danosphere91

It was nice, for a bakery he supposed.

Then he approached the display cabinet.

And the foreboding slammed into him. Because every product had letters next to it. Letters. GF, DF, V, O, VGN.

What. The. Fuck?

Lifting his eyes to the chalkboard menu spread across the back wall Louis felt physically ill. ‘Gluten-free’, ‘organic’, ‘vegan’, ‘paleo’, ‘dair-…’ Wait, what the fuck was a paleo? He had entered some hipster-trash establishment and it was more than time to get out.

OR

Louis is a single dad and Harry works at the newly opened bakery down the street.

the miscommunication in this fic is SO REAL and makes for a good read. the rest of the flour and chocolate series is also fantastic. i thoroughly enjoyed both the ziam and ed/niall arcs that bring the whole story together.

run away home

E | 106k | @hattalove

Louis stands, in the middle of a clearing with his hands in his pockets, and stares. This boy—God, this gorgeous, gorgeous boy. He seems so clumsy, confused at the best of times, but there’s a wisdom about him as he speaks, a maturity that belies his age.

Louis is hopelessly, wildly attracted to him.

or, louis is a successful jockey down on his luck, struggling to get his life back on track after an injury. harry has a horse, a house fit for a prince, and a broken heart.

it takes them a while to figure out that they need each other.

this makes my inner horse girl extraordinarily happy - even if i don’t know anything about horse racing. louis’ story in this is beautiful and makes the whole piece worth a read.

waiting for the tides to meet

E | 60k | @nauticalleeds

Louis lets out a deep breath, thinking about Harry’s soulmate. Thinking about how Harry’s soulmate is probably as beautiful as Harry, some person that Louis cannot compare to, and how the universe has chosen them to be Harry’s. Fuck the universe. “Fuck you,” he calls out to the universe. He’s aware of how crazy he sounds.

Maybe he is crazy, with how he’s falling for Harry. And fuck that, too.

Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he'll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis' workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis' heart.

Featuring a lovely cup of OT5, a road trip down the coast, and a scene where Harry eats a whole head of lettuce. Don't ask why.

gorgeous soulmate AU that gives me summer cruising vibes. worth the read for the lettuce scene alone (i kid, i kid)

Do Not Go Gentle

E | 70k | @afirethatcannotdie

“This is all a game to you, isn’t it? Well, it’s not for me. This is a real life or death situation,” Louis says, spitting the words at him. “And I just don’t think you’re cut out for it.”

For a moment, they stare at each other in complete silence. Harry can feel his blood thrumming between his ears, can see Louis glaring at him, feels red-hot anger. And then all he feels, oppressively and desperately, is lust.

Suddenly Louis is surging up to him to press his lips against Harry’s. Harry walks the two of them backwards, pressing Louis back against the door. Louis oomphs in surprise and brings his hands under Harry’s scrub top, scratching at his lower back.

“Lock — oh — lock the… fucking door,” Louis mutters.

When Harry Styles starts his first day as a surgical intern, he expects a lot of things: to treat patients, to observe a surgery, to feel a bit overwhelmed. What he definitely doesn't expect, however, is that the handsome guy he kicked out of his bed this morning is also an intern.

A Grey’s Anatomy AU where tensions are high, Harry and Louis are hooking up in secret, and no one has time for love. Or do they?

okay i’ve watched maybe 3 episodes of Gray’s Anatomy, but i feel like this encompasses the vibe of the show: medical stuff with a hefty dose of angst and sexual tension

Falling For Me Won’t Be A Mistake

M | 58k | @all-these-larrythings

Harry is married to his job and so overworked that he doesn't know how to stop. All it takes is a forced Hawaiian get-a-away, the warm tropical breeze of the island, and the most beautiful, elusive man he's ever seen to make him remember what living is like outside of work. Well, that, and the little souvenir he accidentally takes home with him.

one of my favorite mpreg fics so if that’s not your cup of tea, then don’t read it. i love surgeon harry with a vengeance, but honestly Gems and Niall are iconic in this one.

Watching the World Fall

E | 11k | @crazyupsetter why won’t it let me tag :(

This segment has been going on long enough that Louis knows what’s coming before James starts in on it, trying to sell him on something he knows that Louis wouldn’t normally be buying. But there’s four cameras surrounding him, and an audience watching him expectantly, so if Louis wants to continue convincing people that he’s doing just fine, he’s going to have to go along with it.

“We have a whole host of single men backstage waiting to meet you, Louis,” James tells him. “We want to help you find love tonight, on Late Late Live Tinder. Is this okay? Do you want to play?”

It actually kind of makes sense that his first date after the break-up is going to be just as public as said break-up. Something like coming full circle.

“Alright, James,” Louis agrees, hopping down off his stool.

“Okay, come down to the stage,” James says. Louis can’t even tell whether the excitement in his voice is genuine or not. “Right now, come on down!”

i have a soft spot the size of Antarctica for Late Late AU fics (we stan James Corden) and for exes to lovers so this checks all the boxes.

autumn leaves

E | 27k | @suspendrs

“Brave?” Harry frowns, caught off guard. “No, not particularly.”

“You seem brave,” Louis decides, pushing off the wall and stepping on the butt of his cigarette. “You are strong, and you are not mean. That’s good,” he assures, touching Harry’s arm gently.

“Thank you, but that’s not true,” Harry smiles ruefully. “I’m really not anything special.”

Or, Harry is an American soldier in France during World War II, and Louis is a French waiter that doesn't mean to fall in love with him.

love love french AUs and while this one isn’t sunshine and rainbows, it’s a beautiful yet heart wrenching piece. warning for period typical homophobia

caught up in your love affair

NR | 8k | @disgruntledkittenface

“And the corgis took to you straightaway,” Harry remarks.

“That’s true,” Louis chuckles.

 “I’ve spent the last 29 years being barked at,” Harry deadpans, jerking his hand toward Louis, “this one walks in, absolutely nothing.”

Louis outright giggles at that, saying, “They were just lying on my feet during tea.”

“Wagging tails,” Harry says, shaking his head.

“It’s because they don’t understand flirting,” Louis tells him, “you can’t charm them the way you do everyone else.”

Royal AU. Prince Harry announces his engagement to Louis Tomlinson in an interview with longtime friend and BBC host Nick Grimshaw. Inspired by Prince Harry and Meghan Markle.

just. 8k of royal fluff. that’s literally it and i adore it so much.

Apples Always Fall (As I Do For You)

M | 54k | @rainbowsandgucci

”Due to unforeseen circumstances, help is needed here at the orchard for the impending apple season. Looking for someone able to start within the next week or two at the most, is willing to do whatever miscellaneous tasks are needed, such as picking & packing apples, running the cash register, and other handywork that may need to be done. Must be good with customers, and able to lift up to 50lbs. Help will be needed until at the least the end of October. Please contact the number found on this page, or come out to the orchard and ask for Harry. All the love xx” --- Louis is staying at his Aunt's farm in a small town in Minnesota for four months. To deal with the boredom that sets in a week into his stay, he starts working at the local apple orchard, owned by twenty six year old Harry Styles. Louis quickly finds himself falling in love with the orchard, and he finds a family in Harry's friends Niall, Liam, and Zayn. He also starts to fall in love with Harry. Falling in love with him turns out to be the easy part.

i never thought i would enjoy an apple orchard fic?? but it’s so good?? farmer harry makes me laugh to think about, but the heartbreak in this fic is so. real.

Mine Would Be You

E | 114k | @crinkle-eyed-boo

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

exes to lovers drama but make it extra sad. the fact that we see so many facets to this story just makes it all the more painful, yet beautiful. this fic also reminds me of how much i love one mister niall horan.

One for Luck

E | 96k | @leavingonatrain

The very first time Louis remembers hearing Harry Styles' deep, deep voice, he's just won gold at the World Equestrian Games and he's officially back on Great Britain's Olympic team. He's also three sheets to the wind, drunk on victory and champagne, and there's a gorgeous boy whispering in his ear. Life's grand.

(AU: Louis and Harry are professional riders on the British Olympic team.)

again, i know nothing about horses, but i like to pretend i do for the sake of this fic. it’s beautiful, it’s smutty what else could you ask for?

Nothing But You On My Mind

E | 83k | @absoloutenonsense

Louis Tomlinson is a PR manager hired to improve the image of royal bad-boy Prince Harry Styles. Unfortunately for him, that means being faced with the Prince's constant innuendos, incessant dirty jokes, and relentless flirting. Louis just wants to make it to Princess Gemma's coronation; once she's crowned Queen, his contract is up and he never has to see the Prince again.

i absolutely. definitely. sobbed tears at this fic. it’s just so beautifully painful to read. don’t want to spoil anything, but this is a must.

Adore You

M | 67k | @isthatyoularry

“We invited our new acquaintances from uptown. You’ve simply got to meet their oldest son!” said his mother with a flourish, and suddenly it became abundantly clear as to why his parents had so adamantly demanded he join them in Deansville for the entirety of the summer.

Against his wishes, Harry spends the holidays at his family’s summer estate, and is reluctantly pulled into a courtship he didn’t ask for. Harry doesn’t want to get married, but Louis does. They don’t fit, but then again they really, really do.

Vaguely set in the 1920’s. Headpieces, jazz, fashionable canes, and flapper dresses, and that.

i strongly relate to harry in this one! one of my favorite historical AUs and honestly i love the thought of louis in well fitting suits.

leave it to the breeze

E | 81k | @hattalove

Louis couldn’t be prouder of his bake, but there’s something—there’s something. Something about Harry Styles and the earnest way he measures, pours, mixes, scrapes. Something about the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth as he knocks the air out of his batter.

or a great british bake off au in which louis cares about winning and winning only, harry is made of sunshine and rainbow sprinkles, and niall sticks his nose into other people's business. also featuring liam as louis's best friend-slash-concerned mother, and zayn as a macaron connoisseur.

i. love. the. great british baking show. baking + h&l is amazing. and another reminder as to why niall is the absolute best.

Paint The Sky With Stars

M | 62k | @icanhazzalou grrr let me tag

On 10 April 1912, Harry Styles boards the finest ship the world has ever seen. Still grieving the death of their mother, he and his sister are being sent to America to live with a callous uncle who cares more about his business connections than family. Harry prepares himself for a long, disappointing voyage alone in his stateroom.

Louis Tomlinson has borrowed and saved, and finally has enough to purchase a Third Class ticket to America. With all of his belongings in a single ruck sack, he boards the Titanic filled with hope for a brighter future. Never one to sit still, he can’t resist exploring the massive ship, and soon goes sneaking into First Class in a stolen steward’s uniform.

By a twist of fate, Louis finds himself in Harry’s stateroom, entranced by the most attractive man he’s ever laid eyes on. He keeps returning day after day, even if he doesn’t understand what it is about Harry that continues pulling him in. That’s all right; Louis has a week to figure it out, and Harry is plenty willing to help.

Except they don’t have a week. They have four days. Because on 15 April, their entire world will be turned upside down.

Or, the historically accurate Titanic AU with a happy ending.

gorgeous historical fic that’s so accurate and painstakingly written. i keep coming back to it!

When It’s Late At Night

M | 25k | @all-these-larrythings

Louis has zero interest in an ex-boybander turned solo artist when his appearance on the show gets announced, but that's exactly who he gets stuck with when Harry Styles shows up at the Late Late show to promote the release of his debut album. For an entire fucking week.

Or

The Late Late prompt that we all need to get through this excruciatingly hard time.

remember when i said i love Late Late AUs? yeah. i love that louis gives absolutely zero shits in this fic until he gives all the shits.

Chasing Empty Spaces

E | 79k | @domestic-harry

The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.

gorgeous historical AU that goes through Harry’s struggle with his sexuality wonderfully. this one also made me cry.

Resist Everything Except Temptation

E | 100k | @domestic-harry

The lethargic sound of heels clicking against wood resonated across the sea. Footsteps descended the staircase, every assured step creating a menacing aura as it grew closer. Perspiration gathered along Louis’ palms as the rhythmic sound halted in front of him.

“Captain,” Malik greeted.

Louis watched out of his peripheral as Malik’s boots shuffled back a few steps. Sweat matted the hair along the nape of Louis’ neck as he waited for something to happen. He felt as if a sharp blade was twisting his gut as the silence became tangible. There was a metallic slide of a sword being pulled out of its sheath, the sound startling Louis out of his cocoon of sterile shock. His shoulders jumped as the tip of a blade flattened underneath his jaw. Louis’ distorted reflection stared back at him in the polished metal. Engraved rose petals twisted his appearance as they crawled up the length of the sword. The sword lifted and took Louis’ chin with it.

Standing in front of Louis was Captain Styles.

OR

The one where Louis is the commodore's son who is forced to become a part of Harry's crew when he is captured.

love this pirate AU that’s got one badass gemma styles. also, harry as a super cool pirate in gorgeous clothes makes me super happy!

i’ll make this feel like home

E | 49k

Harry to groans himself and then takes a deep breath. “Okay, well. Here’s the thing. I peed on a stick.”

Louis isn’t able to get more than a shocked “What!” out before Harry’s steamrolling on.

“I peed on a stick and it says it’s positive, but you always prattle on about how it’s best to go to the doctor’s before you get excited, you know to confirm it because sometimes hormones are off or you have like a tumor or some shit and get false positives and what if I’m dying and-”

“You’re pregnant?!” Louis shouts out, stomach dropping as the words leave his mouth.

“Um, yeah… maybe.”

[the one where Louis' hopelessly in love with his best mate... who just happens to be pregnant with another man's baby.]

baby momma harry with hot mess!Louis is a recipe for disaster, but this one has plenty of fluff to make up for it.

Hands Clasped Tight

E | 44k | @afirethatcannotdie

“What am I looking at here?” Harry asks.

“This, my friends, is a ‘proof’ Instagram account, run by your students,” Liam announces.

“It’s got all this stuff about how the two of you are together,” Niall adds.

“I heard about that,” says one of the math teachers. “Confiscated a kid’s phone today when they were looking at it. I have to say, the evidence that you’re dating is pretty damning.”

“Really,” Louis says dryly. “Do you think being married for three years might have something to do with it?”

Or the one where Harry and Louis are high school teachers and their students have been playing matchmaker for over a year. Little do they know, Harry and Louis are already married.

love love teacher harry and louis that’s mostly funny fluff with a little angst. just a teeny amount. reminds me of my own experiences with meddling students haha.

*updated 2/16/21*

#fic recs #hl #hlcreators #ao3 #in no particular order #message me for other fics! #yourlarrysource

[ffakc]

The Weather Outside is Frightful - a Jeffrey Dean Morgan fanfiction

@negans-attagirl @jdmbbycakes @iluvneganandjamie

“For Rhinebeck, we’re looking at up to five inches per hour! Make sure you’ve got your milk and bread, folks, it’s going to be a doozy!” the weather man proclaimed. My husband changes the channel to our favorite trashy reality TV channel.

“I’d like to get five inches per hour,” I mutter for myself with a smirk and snuggle up under a fuzzy blanket.

“What did you just say?” Jeff laughs.

“Oh, nothing,” I sigh. Jeff is still giggling to himself. My silver fox leans over and growls in my ear.

“If you wanted to have sex, all you had to do was say so,” he kisses my neck with an obnoxious “MWAH!” sound.

“You’re so damn cute,” I try my best to climb onto my husband’s lap.

“How are you so hot even in your jammies, baby girl?” I grab his cheeks and kiss him.

“I don’t feel very hot,” I gesture to my VERY pregnant belly. Jeffrey scoffs.

“Nonsense! You’re carrying OUR child, that’s the most badass thing a lady can do!” he kisses my lips sweetly as he rubs the taut skin, “I love my girls.”

“We love you too, Daddy,” I smile and rock my hips against Jeff’s thigh. I moan with delight.

“Think about it this way, you’re rearranging your organs to bring a life into this world! How cool is that?”

“Jeff, that’s gross,” I laugh.

“I guess you’re right,” he chuckles. “So, what do my gals want for dinner, hm?”

“If I had my way, Pizza Hut stuffed crust. I’ve been craving that for a good week now. But I’m not about to make a delivery driver trek through this,” I climb off my man’s lap and rub his knee.

“Sweetheart, I’ve got a massive four wheel drive. Do you want pizza? I’ll get you pizza,” Jeff smiles, standing up off the couch.

“Yes please, Daddy. You’re so sweet.” I pull up the website on my phone, “What do you want?” I run my fingers over my stomach, which is now growling.

“You know I’m not picky,” Jeff grabs his keys and uses his remote start to warm his beast of a truck.

“Extra red onions, black olives, and sausage then,” I reply, Jeff hands me his card and kisses my forehead. “Ooh, and maybe a syrupy sweet fountain Pepsi?”

“You better be suckin’ on a breath mint then before you get near these lips! Also, Pepsi? Really? Oh, you better be fuckin’ messing with me.” I rest my sore feet on the ottoman and nod as Jeff pets my hair. “Fine, whatever. I’ll get you horse piss.” I laugh. That man is hopelessly addicted to his Coca Cola. “Anything else while I’m out?”

“Maybe a pregnancy test? I’ve been feeling weird lately,” I joke.

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying,” Jeff rolls his eyes with a grin and pulls on his flannel jacket, placing an unlit cigarette between his lips.

“Drive safe! I love you,” I blow him a kiss.

“I love you too, baby girl.”

***

“That’s your Daddy,” I trace my fingers over my belly, watching a rerun of Grey’s Anatomy that happened to be on. “He’s already wrapped around your little finger and he hasn’t even seen you in person yet,” I giggle. “We are so excited to meet you, baby girl.”

“Dinner is served, darlin’!” Jeff calls out and sets the pizza on the counter. I sit myself up a little straighter. Little flutters ripple across my abdomen.

“Jeff! Babe, come here!” I gesture to my stomach.

“Watching Daddy, hm? Wow, I miss my dark hair,” Jeff laughs and gets to his knees on the floor in front of the couch. I place his hand on my stomach and gently press my hand on top of his.

“Do you feel that? As soon as she heard your voice, she started moving.” Jeff gasps as a wide smile crosses his lips.

“I’m so in love with her already,” he kisses the little lumps where I assume a hand or a foot poked through. “That’s my daughter, my fucking daughter. It’s still so surreal to say. I’ve wanted a little girl for God knows how long,” he lowers his voice to a whisper, “I’ve loved you since the moment Mama said she was pregnant with you. Don’t you break your daddy’s heart, sweet pea.”

“I can’t imagine bringing a child into this world with anyone else,” I reply and kiss my husband deeply. “Alright, I suppose I should get up!” I grab Jeff’s outstretched hand and he pulls me off the couch. I place my pizza on a paper plate. Jeff looks me up and down.

“Look how fucking cute you are, doll. Daddy loves giving his gal what she wants,” my husband remarks and kisses my cheek. I sink my teeth into the greasy pizza and moan with delight. “Is it everything you hoped it would be?”

“God, yes. The grease makes my soul happy,” I laugh. Jeff sits on the barstool at the kitchen counter.

“So, umm, yeah,” my husband clears his throat. “Usually I couldn’t give two shits what people say on social media, but...” Jeff heaves a heavy sigh. “I was scrolling through Twitter while waiting for pizza and I saw a few comments here and there about how I’m too old for this,” he places a hand on my stomach.

“That’s stupid,” I roll my eyes.

“They say I’m too old for you too,” he grabs his phone and adjusts his bifcocals, “‘Jeffrey Dean Morgan’s going to be 72 when that kid graduates and his sugar baby’s going to be 42. You ever think about how weird that is? Ew. Poor kid.’ I keep telling myself it do-“ a single tear falls down his face as he places his phone back on the counter.

“It doesn’t matter, Jeffrey,” I cup his cheek my hand and kiss him. “Aww, baby, come here,” I hold his head against my chest. “You already cherish this baby with every ounce of love you have and that’s literally all our girl could ask for, is a Mommy and Daddy who want nothing more than to love her with all their hearts. Age is but a number, sweetheart. My dad was older when he had us kids and it didn’t affect his parenting one single bit. Also, calling me a sugar baby when anyone who follows me on any social media platform knows I never shut the fuck up about how much I love my husband.” Jeff laughs to himself. “I’d have to be in REALLY deep with the sugar baby thing if I let my sugar daddy put a living, breathing child inside me.”

“Yeah, you are absolutely right,” Jeff sniffles and kisses me. “They can call me ‘old’ all the live long day, but coming for my incredible wife and unborn child? I don’t take too kindly to that. That hurts. I swear, I think your pregnancy hormones are affecting me too,” he teases and flicks his tears away.

“I don’t blame you! That shit is rude and uncalled for!” I exclaim and take a bite of pizza. “Sorry, I got distracted,” I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “What can I say? I’m eating for two.”

“You are indeed,” Jeff smiles, he murmurs something to himself and gives my backside a squeeze. He nibbles his pizza.

“What’s that, Daddy?” I look up at him with innocent eyes and take a long sip of my drink.

“I said, ‘that ass’,” You’ve gotten so curvy, baby. Pregnancy looks real good on you. Who gave you the right to be so damn sexy?” I wiggle my hips as wetness pools between my thighs. “You’re lucky I don’t just shove this pizza off the counter and fuck you right here.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” I smirk. I pull down my top slightly, revealing my overgrown and engorged breasts.

“Baby doll,” Jeff whines. I run my fingers over the zipper of his jeans, earning a moan from my gorgeous older man. He places one veiny, strong hand on my hip and the other in my hair as he kisses me deeply. His hand travels to my belly as his breath shudders against my lips.

“I love these new curves,” Jeff groans. “Why does this big, round pregnant belly turn me on so much?”

“Because you know it means you bred me so good?” I suggest, squeezing my breasts together. “Making my tits bigger, making my hips wider.”

“God yes. What can I do to make my gal feel good tonight?”

“Well, I’ve had another craving that isn’t pizza,” I trail my fingers down his chest, “A hot, steamy shower with my hands in your hair and your mouth on my needy, wet pussy. Oh Daddy, I need you.”

“Oh my,” Jeff clicks his tongue, his face flushing slightly, “You know how much I love devouring that sweet pussy. I could do that all day, every day if you’d let me.”

“I’d let you!” I pipe up, and Jeff laughs, dunking his crust in pizza sauce. “Just don’t put any pepper flakes on your pizza,” I wink and Jeff laughs even harder.

“Good lord, you really think I’d do that to you?”

“I don’t know, maybe! Now, let’s finish dinner, dessert is waiting for you,” I rub my husband’s shoulders and he lets out a satisfied groan. I throw my plate in the trash, “I’ll meet you in the shower,” I whisper against his ear. Jeff shoves the rest of his food in his mouth and chases after me. I crank the shower up as hot as it can go, Jeff grabs me by the waist from behind and rubs against me as he kisses my neck. I can feel how hard he is in his fitted jeans. I slip out of my clothes and my husband does the same, his cock throbbing as he slides out of his underwear.

“Look at what you do to me,” Jeff gestures downward.

“Oops,” I step under the water. I brush two fingers over my clit and whimper, then offer them to Jeff. He sucks them seductively. “Look what you do to ME.”

“Fuck girl, you taste so sweet,” his hands rest on my pregnant belly as I wrap my arms around his neck as we kiss.

“I need to sit down,” I remark and bite my lip. I sit back on the shower bench.

“That’s my good girl. You sit back and relax, pull my hair, and let Daddy enjoy himself. Don’t you move a muscle, let me do all the work, sweetheart,” Jeff ghosts his hot breath against me, smirking up at me. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He lets out a low growl of pleasure.

“You tease,” I whine, “Please Daddy, please. I need it, Jeffrey.” Jeff buries his face in what’s his. The water falls softly against his tanned skin.

“You taste so damn GOOD, girl,” Jeff rasps. A little bit of Negan slipped out with that statement. He breathes heavily as his mouth overtakes my most sensitive parts. His fingers curl inside me. My whole body jerks.

“Jeff! Oh my god!” I gasp. My silver fox groans loudly.

“Oh Princess, I want to make you scream. I want you to make an absolute fucking mess on my face,” he spreads my legs as far as my exhausted body can go and circles my throbbing clit with his ever-flickering tongue. God, what a talented tongue my gorgeous husband has.

“Jeffrey! Jeffrey, oh fuck! I’m so close, baby. Please, baby. Please, I need you so damn bad,” I plead, grasping onto his graying locks. He sucks gently as if I’m his favorite lollipop and smirks up at me. “FUCK!” I cry out, “JEFF! OH MY FUCKING GOD!” I can’t hold back, profanity and filthy, wet mouth sounds fill the air. My orgasm hits me like a powerful earthquake, a tidal wave of pure ecstasy. As if a surge of lightning coursed through my entire body. Jeff pants, planting soft kisses on my inner thighs. I stroke his hair as he kisses me passionately, my legs still trembling.

“Was is it as good for you as it was for me?” Jeff smiles.

“Oh god, better than I could have ever imagined, Daddy. I love you so damn much,” I breathe heavily.

“I love you more than anything. You make me the luckiest, Mrs. Morgan.”

#denny duquette #fanfiction #fanfic #greys anatomy #jeffrey dean morgan #negan #the walking dead #older man younger woman #john winchester #supernatural #fluff #smut

[iwrestlenow]

Many More To Die

TITLE: Many More To Die

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: For over a thousand years, necromancy has been forbidden in the Kingdoms, the Necromata--its practitioners--feared, reviled, and punished for a power they never asked to wield. Those Necromata who are not killed in the cradle are taken from their families, stripped of their Name--the core of identity and memory--and imprisoned for the rest of their lives.

Logan was twelve when he entered the palace dungeons. Prince Roman was fourteen when he witnessed the young necromancer being brutalized, imprisoned, and left to suffer.

Roman only wanted to offer the other boy comfort, and perhaps a scrap of dignity. He didn't realize his kindness would follow both of them into adulthood--or that Logan would one day become the only person in all the realms that Roman would be able to trust with his life, his heart, and his very soul.

SHIPS: Logince (Logan/Roman), future Moceit (Patton/Janus) and Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: lots of death because necromancy, slash, and more to come as I figure it out ‘cause it’s late and I’m tired. Also, no betas, we die like men.

NOTES: This is based on the gorgeous piece of art by @gretacticdraws that can be found here. I ended up writing a ficlet for it, and then my brain got swallowed up. Breathe at me wrong, and I’ll write more...hell, who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway because this? Is self indulgent drivel. XD

Also located at AO3 over here.

1023, A.A.

Necromata.

Sitting in the middle of his cell, twelve year old Logan...Logan choked on tears as his shoulder screamed, his bones ached, and the flickering lights of his cell let his imagination run wild with all manner of monsters and omens of doom lurking within every shadow.

He knew he was lucky—many necromancers were caught in the cradle and killed. Very few survived as long as he had. He could be grateful to his family for that much, that he'd lived long enough to escape a death sentence.

He did have a family. He knew that much—remembered that much. Everything else, they had taken before throwing him into his cell. The prison mage's hand was still a ghost of cold fire against his forehead, worms of icy coal burning through his brain to wipe out every trace of the things that would make him what he was, allow him to be more safely contained.

The name spoken with fear and loathing was all that he had left.

Necromata. The legions of the Animator...the necromancers.

“Psst!”

The hiss echoed off the stone in the corridor, made his heart leap into his chest as he looked around for the source of it.

“Psst! Over here!”

Logan tried to scramble back from the door of his cell, and screamed when he forgot about his dislocated shoulder, collapsing as it gave way under his weight.

“No, don't—please, it's okay. I don't want to hurt you.”

Blinking, Logan squinted into the low light beyond the torches that barely lit his new home. Something bright green flickered there, an outline visible that was vaguely person-shaped.

“Who...who are you?” he asked, curling his injured arm as close to his body as he could so he wouldn't forget again as he got to his feet.

“I...I'm not supposed to say.”

Logan shuffled a little closer to the bars of his cell. “Then how do I know you don't want to hurt me?”

“The prison mage took your Name—you won't understand if I tell you. Just...”

The person-shape on the other side of the bars moved forward, an arm protruding through to set a bowl on the dirt floor of Logan's cell. Inside there was water, and sitting across the rim was a heavy piece of leather.

“I saw what the guard did when you came in. Your shoulder...it happened to me once when I snuck out to hunt for the Lazari.”

“The Lazari don't exist.” Logan replied, reaching up with his good hand to try and wipe some of the tears and snot off his face. “They're a fairy tale, like the Animata.”

“How do you know?”

Logan opened his mouth...then closed it after long moments.

“I...I don't know.” he admitted. “I must have lost it when the prison mage took my Name.”

“Then you could be wrong.” the person-shape insisted, those emerald flecks in the near shadow sparkling with determination. “I'll find a Lazari one day. Just you wait.”

“What does that have to do with my dislocated shoulder?”

“Oh! Sorry—uhm, I did it once. When I snuck out, I fell from a tree and mine popped out. My brother showed me how to use the bars on our window to pop it back in! I threw up, though—and he made me bite a belt so I wouldn't scream.”

The hand appeared between the bars again, nudging the bowl and the leather strap forward a little further.

“I can tell you how to do it.”

Logan shuffled forward a couple more steps, then shifted to kneel in front of the bowl of water.

“I...might know.” He replied, staring at the bowl for a long moment before he peered back into the dark, into the green spark that was his benefactor's eyes. “Thank you.”

The person-shape said nothing for a long moment...

“Berry.”

“What?”

“Berry! The guards called you Logan, right? They took your Name—maybe Berry can be your new one.”

Before Logan could comment, the person-shape grew less distinct, and the flicker of green was gone with the clatter of footsteps scurrying away into the dark.

It was a silly idea—a Name taken could not be restored so easily. Still, the word rattled around in his head along with the one that made his bones ache again.

Necromata. Berry. Necromata. Berry. Berry.

Logan Berry.

Something stirred in the middle of Logan's mind, in his marrow—in the place that magic had scoured out and rubbed raw within the pathways of his brain. Something stirred, settled...

Something slid into place, and all of a sudden the shadows were far less frightening.

Popping his shoulder back into the socket hurt far more than dislocating it had—and yet while he'd sobbed his soul out after being injured, after being robbed of all that made him a person, he shed not a single tear as he put the leather between his teeth, wrenched his joint back into place, and used the fresh water to clean up after he'd emptied his stomach into the corner of his cell.

He even managed to sleep on his pallet of straw, and dreamed of green embers in the dark, drifting into the shadows in his cell and transforming every monster into a friend.

**********

1033, A.A.

“I had the dream again.”

“A kinky one?”

“Sweet leaping gods, Remus!”

The high, strident cackle of his twin brother echoed through Prince Roman's bedchamber, making him wonder yet again why he thought he could talk to the crazy idiot about anything remotely meaningful. Yes, Remus was trustworthy—he gave Roman all manner of hell for the secrets he shared, but had suffered his fair share of indignities to keep his mouth shut—but sometimes he wondered if it was worth the teasing and the laughter to have such a steadfast confidant.

Remus had secrets of his own, after all—the numerous Anima that shared his bed, for one. Like Roman, Remus was fascinated by the Necromata, the true necromancers that all citizens of the Kingdoms were taught to hate and fear. The Anima were little more than pretenders, mages of other disciplines that toyed with the death magic that had been outlawed for over a thousand years.

Still, they had a lot to teach—and made good company, from the way Remus spoke of his dalliances.

“Oh, I'm just yanking your chain, big brother!” Remus assured him, crossing over to drape himself over Roman's back, chin settling on Roman's shoulder to read what his twin was writing as he hunched over his desk. “C'mon now—tell me about the dream, and I'll tell you about the Necromata I fucked last night.”

Roman straightened abruptly at that, unceremoniously sending Remus sprawling to the floor. Turning his chair, he gaped down at his brother and pointed an accusing finger at him.

“You did not sleep with a real necromancer, you lying sack of horse dung!” he hissed. “Why would you even say that in the palace of all places?!?”

“Because the sex was unbelievably good?” Remus offered, shrugging from his place on the floor, flat on his back. “Believe me, Ro Bro, a guy that can't actually feel human contact can keep it up for a nice, long, slow roll in the hay. It's pretty remarkable!”

Roman just huffed, standing from his seat—and promptly sinking to the floor to sprawl out right beside Remus.

“You're lying.” he said simply.

Remus was quiet a long time...then sighed.

“Of course I am. He was just another Animata.”

“Anima. The Animata are a myth, like the Lazari.”

“Since when did you turn into such a brainiac, Roro? We both know I've always been the smart one.”

Roman rolled his eyes with a grin, stretching his leg to kick Remus's ankle—but the truth of the matter was, Remus was right. Between the pair of them, Remus was smarter by leaps and bounds. He was studying the collegiate sciences when he was seventeen, and began his magic training before he'd even reached puberty. The fact that the only part of the sciences he enjoyed were anatomy and mortuary study were entirely besides the point, as was the fact that Remus wasn't actually capable of using magic at all.

He was, as their father lovingly put it, a rogue genius: in possession of an intellect so massive that the rules couldn't restrain him. He either knew too well how to circumnavigate them, or he simply didn't care enough to bother and did what he wanted—what he thought was right, no matter the consequence.

Roman might have been the elder of the twins—by one hour, eleven o'clock of one night where Remus came at midnight the next morning—but he aspired, every single day, to be the maverick that Remus was. He simply lacked the brains...and the courage.

Which was why today, it was Roman their father would be naming as his successor, and not Remus. Roman would be king, would rule by the law and the will of the gods, and Remus would...get to be Remus for the rest of his life, a crown prince without a care in the world.

“Tell me about the dream, Roro.”

Remus's voice was gentle this time, his fingers walking their way along Roman's arm until he could find his hand and weave it into his own.

Roman sighed, staring up at the mural on the ceiling of his bedchamber—a beautifully wrought depiction of the Fall of Death, the final battle between the Animator, the first of the Necromata, and their ancestor, King Thomas Andres, that had saved the Kingdoms over a thousand years ago.

“He was in it.”

“The boy from the dungeons?”

Roman nodded. He could feel Remus watching him...

Just like he could feel the boy from the dungeons watching him every time he had the dream... ********** “He was here again.”

“Jumpin' Jiminy, Lo—are you sure?”

Logan nodded, mostly to himself. Patton couldn't see him, not from the bathtub behind the partition that separated it from the rest of the room, but it hardly mattered—after eight years as cell mates, the two of them had become as close as brothers, as close as twins according to some of the guards that had met the king's identical twin sons.

They had grown so naturally into the relationship, it made Logan wonder sometimes if he'd had a brother before his Name had been taken.

Well...it made him wonder in the early days, at any rate. Logan had stopped wondering many years ago.

Suffice to say, Patton didn't need to see him nod to know that Logan had.

“Well? What'd he do?”

Logan let his mind wander back to the night before—the dream space that he so often occupied, the boy that had come to him in the dark ten years before with a bowl of water, a leather strap, and a name.

The boy he'd come to think of as the Green Man, with those eyes that the dark couldn't fully hide.

“The same thing he always does.” Logan managed to reply, setting down the pen he'd been using in favor of resting his elbows on his desk and steepling his fingers to press against his lips. Among those Necromata imprisoned in the palace dungeons, Logan was quite fortunate: he was allowed a cell mate, access to books and writing implements, even a small window sill garden consisting of plants that couldn't be used for magical purposes.

He was very lucky. Ten years of good behavior had given him an incredible amount of leeway and granted him creature comforts like access to regular bathing privileges. The guards even referred to him by his chosen name.

He was, for all intents and purposes, treated like he was truly human. A prisoner, always, but one the guards and prison mages shared a basic blood connection to, unlike the other Necromata.

“...Lo?...Logan!”

Shaking himself, Logan cleared his throat and tried to beat back the heat he could feel rising in his cheeks, having been caught wool gathering.

“Apologies, I didn't catch that.” he called over his shoulder.

“I said, did he say anything this time?”

Logan shook his head, knowing once again that his actions would be understood rather than seen. Patton asked the same thing every time Logan mentioned the visits, and every time it was the same.

If Patton really knew the content of the Green Man's visitations...

Pressing his fingertips to his mouth again, Logan shut his eyes and let himself remember.

The visits were always in a dream space—for years, before the visitations became more regular, Logan had assumed the Green Man was a guard's son, or the child of some member of the palace staff. Later, when the Green Man came to Logan in his sleep, he figured he was the son of a prison or court mage—who else could manage to dream walk in the mind of even a crippled necromancer like him?

Then again...Logan was different from many prisoners like himself.

In the dream, Logan still cannot see his face. Like those ephemeral dreams from his first few nights in the dungeons, he's little more than shadows with burning points of light the color of fresh shoots just springing from the soil. Over the years, he's become more distinct, but still nothing Logan can give any real definition.

He is a man made of darkness, his eyes reflecting what spark of magic lives within him. They never speak to each other—Logan never dares, secretly apprehensive that disturbing the quiet will somehow end this irregular communion they share.

All the Green Man does is extend a hand, the only part of him Logan can truly see. What was once small and slim fingered has changed over the years into a large hand, broad but lean, tendons standing out below each knuckle and tanned by exposure to the sun. Every time, he reaches out, and every time, Logan takes his hand and just...holds on.

In the dream space, Logan can feel his touch. It's likely a projection, something imagined, but there's strength and warmth in that hand—the pressure of fingers meshing with his own, the heat of palm sealed to palm. There's something under the skin, itchy and trembling, and it makes Logan want to pull away because it's just too much...

The Green Man never lets him. Gradually, the feeling passes, and Logan clings until the feeling returns, crashing over him and sliding back in waves beating the shore of his nervous system.

Logan is always the first to let go. The Green Man makes sure of it—and then he leaves.

“Are you okay, kiddo?”

Logan looked up sharply, twisting to see Patton over his shoulder. His mop of tawny curls is swept back from his face, still dark and wet from his bath, the chill of the cell raising gooseflesh on his bare torso.

He has one hand holding the towel around his waist, and the other resting on Logan's shoulder.

The pressure is barely there, that buzzing awareness of contact easily missed if not expected.

Patton hastily lifts his hand, face screwed up in silent apology. Logan dislikes physical contact, even if he cannot feel it—just like any of the Necromata, so divorced from the living, human populous that they cannot even connect to them through touch.

“Didn't mean to spook you, Lo. Just...you're real quiet. Usually, you got more to say after a visit from You Know Who.”

Logan nodded, then made a point of reaching out to squeeze Patton's hand briefly before letting it go just as quickly.

“Apologies. I suppose I'm just...distracted by today.”

“Yeah—hey, you think the prince'll come down here?” Patton asked hopefully, drawing back to go and find some clothes. “I mean, if he's gonna learn to be king after the ceremony...”

Logan let Patton continue to chatter about the potential for this new ruler to somehow see their plight, somehow be their salvation. He let the words, the hope, wash over him without making contact.

Patton could have hope, because he had no Name. No history, no memory, no past and therefore no future. He was a blank slate, for all intents and purposes, unable to access the power of the Necromata with no life of his own to bind it to.

Unlike Logan. Logan, who no longer wondered if he'd had a brother in his family.

Logan, who could share a dream space, something only mages were capable of.

Logan, who had been given a new name by his benefactor so many years ago, a name that others used daily.

Logan Berry, who even now could feel the essence of every rat behind the dungeon walls, every guard on patrol, every prisoner languishing beneath the lowest floors of the palace...and every noble, every royal, every peasant up above.

Logan Berry, who could not remember his family, but could remember that he once had a brother.

Because, despite the fact that a Name taken could not be restored so easily, Logan had taken a name freely given and made it his own.

A Name, freely given. A life, restored.

Logan could not have hope, because he had the power of the Necromata at his fingertips—and it was only a matter of time before good behavior would no longer be enough to earn him the leeway to stay alive.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #logince #ts logic #ts creativity #thomas sanders #fanfic #ts fanfic #necromancer au #this is all the artist's fault i'm just a hapless writer that stumbled across it #never trust me with nice things #my name is liz and i swear to god i will fic again

[sadpathologist]

Chapter 2, I guess?

Part one, also it`s on AO3.

So, he`s falling, cold mountain wind punching him in the face, irritating his eyes and making them water, goosebumps raising all over his torso for the apparent lack of clothing on his upper body. For humans, jumping off the cliff is a ticket straight to the end of the journey that is their life.

He was not a human, thankfully.

Jaskier`s not afraid of squashing his face into a bloody mess on the next best rock his head can find, because he knows that just can`t happen. The reason why he was so sure begun to reveal itself, and he moaned and bit his lower lip as the sensation similar to pain starts gnawing at his skin in the area of his shoulder blades.

Magic purrs to him again, and in that instant moment, two massive wings brake out from his spine in a fast, almost painless spurt. They make a few firm flaps, and Jaskier is soaring.

He didn`t fly for so long; he almost forgot the sheer joy of it. Jaskier`s crying from experiencing all those old-new feelings all over again, and there are too many different emotions burling inside him that he can`t quite put his finger on any of them.

Then, he hears magic`s soft call once more, the same sensation prickles at his whole face, and two long horns emerge from the edge of his hairline, repeating their elegant spiral in their way up, his cheekbones become a lot more prominent, his ears pointier, more rhomb-like. Now there are two pairs of canines in his upper row of teeth, and they are a lot more sharper, too. For the last of his inhuman features, a thick flexible scaly tail appears in his right leg pant, and it`s much longer than his legs, so the new anatomy part just hangs from it awkwardly and slightly unnerves him.

It feels like hours passed since the jump, but in reality, he knows it was mere seconds.

The bard looks at the mesmerizing view of Dragon Mountains, and he would`ve enjoyed it if it weren`t the same view he was looking at while being a target of witcher`s misplaced fury. They seem to him downright nauseating, for now, at least.

Not expecting any new bodyparts, Jaskier flaps his wings and sets in the direction of the mountain`s foot, where Roach was left, to retrieve the other bag with his belongings. He gives himself a mental pat on the back for not forgetting about it and clears all the thoughts from his head.

----

By the time Jaskier nears the clearing where everyone left their horses, it is late evening, and cicadas have already begun their twilight's song, accompanying fireflies' sparkling light show. He decides to land not very far from the edge of the meadow as a precaution in case someone might see him. Well, not just him, but his true form. ‘Can`t have anyone know I`m a fae, right?’

After waiting for a couple of minutes, the bard finally emerges from behind the trees and strolls to the chestnut mare. He almost steps on his tail, not used to it for twenty years of its absence, and curses then moves it up the leg pant and circles around his waist a couple of times so that it won`t get in the way.

"Hello, sweetheart," he greets his dear companion, " I came to say goodbye."

He pats her white striped muzzle, and she headbutts him affectionately. It seems Roach is not repelled by his unusual for her appearance, and Jaskier is not surprised, to be honest. Animals always loved his kind a lot more than humans.

"It's time for us to part ways again," his hand reached to the horse's mane and started to comb it with his fingers," for the last time, it seems."

She neighs quietly and nuzzles at his neck as if to say she'll miss him. "I'll miss you too, my dear heart." The bard wraps his arm around mare`s neck and hugs her closer, feeling his tears start to fall on her mane. And Roach, the amazing lady that she is, rubs her head against his and his heart breaks that he has to take himself off her master`s hands.

Jaskier pats her once more and begins to untether the bag with his clothes from the saddle. Then, he decides it would be a lot more convenient just to put his smaller bag that he took for the track up the mountain into the second, bigger one.

“You`re a fae.” A sudden comment startles him as he didn`t hear anyone approaching. He looks up and meets the gaze of an older man. ‘Shit, that`s just brilliant.’ Jaskier thought.

“ And you`re a dragon. Are we going to point out some more obvious facts?” he bites back, his eyebrows meeting in a frown. ‘So much for not letting anyone know.’

Borch seems absolutely unfazed by his comment and stares at the bard as if he were a particularly amusing child. “ I didn`t feel any residual magic on you. How did you manage to hide it so well? The witcher doesn`t know, I assume.”

The fae scowls at him some more and breaks the silence, “ I have my secrets. I also much preferred this,” he gestures to himself,” to be a secret. So yes, the witcher doesn`t know.” Jaskier folds his arms on his chest then,” You`re a dragon, as we so helpfully established a few moments ago, the rarest dragon. So unique that the White Wolf himself thought you were a myth. Surely,” he huffs,” you must know fuck-all to figure out how I hid it so well.”

“Contrary to popular beliefs,” Villentretenmerth smiles at him,” the fact that I am an ancient being does not mean I know, as you said, fuck-all.” The dragon keeps his facial expressions quite pleasant to show the other man that he is not a threat and that he has the purest of intentions, but this annoys him a big deal for obvious reasons. The bard sighs.

“What`s the point of this conversation? What do you want from me? I`m in a hurry here,” Jaskier questions and pointedly puts his lute on the right shoulder and the bag on his left.

“All I want to do,” the older man sighs too,” is to give you an advice-

“No,” the fae doesn`t let him finish his thoughts, feeling outraged once more at the dragon`s blatant audacity,” no! I have had enough of your advices!” Jaskier points his finger at the creature before him,” What good did your advices do for Geralt? For Yennefer? For me? Hm?” He gestures openly, his fingers pointing somewhere at the sky.

“ Nothing good, as you can see!” He almost screams, electric blue eyes stare stubbornly at Borch`s brown. Then, the musician takes a deep breath and adds quietly,” I`m done here. Farewell.”

And before Borch can say something else, Jaskier spreads his massive wings and flies up in a quick spurt, shocking even the dragon with his speed.

#the witcher netflix #the witcher #geralt/jaskier #dandelion/geralt #geraskier #angst #fae jaskier #creature jaskier #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia

[monstersandmaw]

Wow, somehow it's already the second Friday in Mermay! How did that happen? I hope you're all keeping safe and well, and that our little trips to the beach for Mermay are bringing a little fresh air if you're unable to go out and enjoy it. Don't forget that there's the Discord server too, which should join you up automatically if you have your Discord linked to Patreon. No obligation to take part if you don't want to, but it's there nonetheless, even if you're not intending to stay a patron after Mermay is over.

Now it's time to meet Mottle, to whom you were briefly introduced earlier in the week. Next up is a female kelpie with a male reader, and she's not your average shy and retiring forest spirit...

In this one we have a gender neutral reader, but there is penetrative sex, though anatomy is left vague as usual. The reader has had a rough breakup in the relatively recent past, and is struggling with the aftermath of being treated badly, although no details are mentioned. Eli, our tiefling best friend, wants to use the power of the Starfall Coven to bring some good into your life, but you're a little reserved about the idea to begin with...

I'm inluding a bit more in the content because someone asked me to (so that they know what kind of nsfw it contains), so I hope that's ok with everyone. I usually put anything I feel needs a warning in there, but they asked for a little more detail.

Content: fluff, magic, talk of love potions, alcohol (not drunk sex though), nsfw, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, tentacles, and some tender aftercare Wordcount: 5451

“What you need, sweetheart, is a fucking love potion,” Eli grinned, drunk as anything and listing perilously to one side. The tiefling meant well, you knew that, but seriously? A fucking love potion?

You rolled your eyes and leaned back in the creaky pub chair. The Inglenook Inn was about as traditional a pub as it was possible to get, with dark, scuffed, slightly sticky wooden flooring, a few old horse and centaur brasses nailed to the wall, heavy beams, and of course, the eponymous inglenook fireplace, large enough to hatch a dragon.

“I don’t need a love potion. I’m not going to trick someone into wanting to go out with me. That’s not the point.”

“I didn’t say what kind of love potion,” the tiefling said, leering playfully across the table at you. “There’s more than the nasty old ‘date rape’ ones, you know? No one uses those anyway now - no one will brew them either. Well, maybe only douche bags.”

“Only douche bags say ‘douche bags’,” you grunted, but Eli just laughed and lounged back in his chair, sharp chin raised as he closed his eyes and chuckled softly.

There was more than one set of eyes on him that night, you noticed, but then again, there always was. His skin was colourlessly white, with snaking black tattoos up his neck and just sneaking up onto his striking face over his jaw, with blood red eyes, and massive ivory horns like a ram’s that curved through his long, dead-straight, white hair. He was also one of the most powerful witches in the Starfall Coven, so you supposed he probably knew what he was talking about when it came to the love potion thing. It did still just felt like a cop-out to you though.

As if he’d read your mind, he turned serious and said, “Let me help you. Seriously, I think I know something that will help nudge things along. It’s not fake, it just… expedites circumstances.”

“Eli, I…”

“Think about it,” he said, backing off. “I won’t push you, and I won’t do it without your permission, but I know what I’m doing. It’s how I got Martha and her beau together after all…”

“You’re a meddling little busybody,” you said without any sting.

“You love me,” he smiled and you nodded.

“Gods help me, but I do.” He had been your best friend for almost as long as you could remember and there was almost nothing you wouldn’t do for each other. That, apparently, included getting each other steaming drunk on a Friday night.

“Another?” he asked, standing and somehow managing not to look the least bit unsteady. His white cervine legs and long, feline tail kept him balanced all the way to the bar, and he ordered you both another round, returning without spilling a drop.

It was a fortnight before he brought up your love life again.

The pair of you had met up after you’d finished work, but instead of heading to the pub, you went for a walk along the harbour wall since it was such a beautiful evening. Fishing boats bobbed and rocked in the late spring breezes, and the salt air was stronger here, more potent and somehow even fresher.  It blew the cobwebs away almost instantly, and you paused with Eli at the harbour railings, leaning your forearms on the metal and sighing.

That familiar, aching loneliness threatened to choke you and you bowed your head.

Eli, perceptive as ever, rested an elegant, tattooed hand on your back and rubbed circles between your shoulder blades. Down below in the water, a pair of selkies coiled around each other, splashing and yipping, and you turned away. “I don’t want to be some bitter old arsehole about this, Eli,” you said. “I just…”

“You went through one of the roughest breakups I’ve ever heard of,” he said gently. “The way you were treated…” His solidly red eyes flared and glowed as his own power rumbled inside him and he let sparks dance along the fingertips of his free hand. “Seriously, it’s alright to feel so rubbish still. I just wish I could help.”

Sparks continued to fizzle along his fingers for a while and you stared at them, thinking.

“Eli…?”

“Mmm?”

“You know, I think… I think I’d like to try that love -” You didn’t get to finish your sentence because the sea frothed and bubbled beneath the harbour wall, and your joint attention was caught as another of the merfolk surfaced.

Read the whole thing right now, and have access to a story every Friday during Mermay 2020, as well as everything that’s gone up on Patreon before, and join our Discord server!

#mermay #mermay 2020 #octomer #exophilia

[himbowelsh]

Also i’d love some good old Luz/Toye modern day au headcanons! ❤️❤️❤️

oh my god, what if they met on a dating app tho

because luz is an absolute dating app ho.  he doesn’t use it to fall in love, let’s be honest  ---  i mean, if he hits it off with someone, sure, they’ll go on a date.  mostly he thinks they’re absolutely hilarious, and “you just meet the most interesting people on there, really”.   he’s got a grindr, a tinder, a bumblr, a tingle, and any other dating app you can name.  like, no less than five on his phone at any given time, and he’s got a collection of interesting profile pics screencapped.

(which means perconte gets texts at 3am of wild tinder profiles; for example, a guy dressed like a chicken in his profile pic, captioned by luz:  i think this one’s worth chickin out)

in short, luz uses them for the hell of it, and has met some interesting people, but never takes dating on them seriously.

then he matches with The Guy

The Guy is absolutely the most gorgeous man george has ever seen.  talk about jacked; this guy’s profile pics are of him lifting weights, running, boxing. all sports, all tasteful  (he’s never shirtless, no mirror selfies here) but he’s showing off his arms in every single one.

luz almost has a heart attack.

(perconte’s phone buzzes at 3am; it’s The Guy, captioned by luz, 😳🤯🥵)

on the other end of the line, joe toye is a grandpa.

no, literally. social media is not his thing.  he doesn’t have twitter, he doesn’t have insta, he has a facebook account he hasn’t logged into in years  ---  just because he does have a lot of aunties and they all want to know what he’s up to.

joe’s a boxing instructor, and a pretty successful one.  his gym asks him to record video tutorials for youtube, which he does...  but only because they keep sending a kid to film him, and he’d feel like an asshole telling him to beat it.  really, joe just does his thing in the videos, while wearing very tight shirts.  they get tons of views on youtube.  he doesn’t realize he’s become a mild internet heartthrob, because he literally just...  isn’t interested.

he also doesn’t seem to be interested in dating.   this, in the opinion of one bill guarnere, is a travesty.

bill pretty much badgers joe into making a tinder profile.  just one, just to take a chance on it and see what happens.  if he doesn’t like it, he can just delete it!  what’s the harm, right?

joe lets bill download the app, grunts at bill’s choice of profile pictures, and promptly forgets the app is even on his phone.

until George Luz happens.

what did you expect? george luz ALWAYS happens.

now, george has done some light internet stalking at this point.  he’s found the youtube videos, and has developed a full-on crush.  it’s bad, guys.  he’s considering signing up for boxing lessons, despite the near-certainty that joe could snap his spaghetti arms like twigs.

he takes the safe route, and just slides into joe’s DMs instead.

‘looks like your allergies are acting up in those pics’

‘you could really use some vitamin Me’

joe stares at his phone for a solid two minutes in dead silence before replying with a succinct ‘fuck no.’

BUT GEORGE LUZ DOES NOT GIVE UP. 

listen.  listen.  this man has an endless supply of pickup lines, and he’s not afraid to use them.  joe knows where the block feature is.  he can absolutely swipe left if he so chooses, but he hasn’t, and george takes that as solid encouragement.  somewhere out there, there’s a perfect line for the perfect guy, and he’s gonna find it.  so he sends a new line every day, just...  shooting his shot.

‘i’m feeling pretty sunburned, because your bio is too hot to handle’

‘no wonder you’re a boxer, you’re a knockout’

‘you could choke me out with those thighs and i’d come back as a ghost to thank you’

‘know what i could do if i rearranged the alphabet?  put the d in u’

‘would you rather fight 1 horse sized duck or 100 duck sized horses’

joe hates it.  he absolutely freaking hates it.  but here’s the thing  ---  george knows, and he knows, that he could just unmatch and be done with it.

he does not do this.

the worst part is, joe finds himself actually looking forward to the new line every day.  god help him, he likes it.  it’s something to snort at after a long day at work, something which gets him to roll his eyes every time...  but he won’t deny, it’s...  kind of flattering.   the guy is a dumbass, but he’s persistent, joe will at least give him that.

finally  ---  after the twelfth day, when george’s pickup lines have aged like fine cheese  (’my body has 457 bones, but u could still break me in half’)  ---   joe finally caves

‘that’s too many. too many fucking bones.’

on the other end of the line, george is having a mild heart attack. he replied!!  he actually replied!!

‘you’re right’   he shoots back.   ‘i know my anatomy.  i’ve actually got 205 bones’

‘no you fucking don’t.  an adult male has 206 bones in his body.’

nitpicky and ripped??  george is into it.

‘really?’   he can’t get the shiteating smirk off his face.    ‘looks like i’m missing one.’  (and at this moment, joe knows what the hell he’s just walked into.)    ‘ur gonna have to give it to me.’

a long silence.  george holds his breath, not daring to hope, not daring to dread.

finally, joe replies.    ‘if i give you my number, will you stop.’

‘oh baby,’  replies george,   ‘i can keep going all night long’

joe sends him his number.

he shows up to the date with an anatomy textbook, just to be a dick about it.  george laughs so hard he falls off his barstool, and that’s the moment joe realizes he’s fallen in love with this idiot.

then again, maybe that realization came 100 duck sized horses ago.

#THIS IS ABSOLUTELY NOT WHAT YOU WANTED BUT THIS IS WHAT HAPPENED AND IM FRANKLY LIVING FOR IT #luztoye #george luz #joe toye #band of brothers #jim-bones-spock