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caramelarchive · 5 months

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╾ Assorted Box of Headcanons

like a box of chocolates!

for L (strawberry chunk white chocolate swirl), Light (orange tang dark cocoa drink), Misa (chocolate mint icecream parfait) and Matsuda (chocolate mousse + full milk cream) I have moved to my main @lawlietscaramels please follow there for new content!

　★━━─・‥…━━━☆

L: strawberry chunk white chocolate swirl

I think L's actually very prone to getting freaked out by jumpscares and unexpected loud noises. For this reason he hates horror movies and thunder. If he happens to experience a fright like this, he'll either go very very still and start trembling, OR he will jump ten feet in the air, drop whatever he's holding, and curse loudly.

I don't think L swears much outside of that, actually.

if you wear glasses he'll just put his hands on your face at any given moment to push them up your nose because the lenses aren't even in front of your eyes any more and what is wrong with you.

he would not kiss you if you have recently eaten something that does not contain heart-attack levels of caffeine and sugar.

yeah he's actually pretty germophobic.. at the same time man will straight up forget to have a shower/shave/brush his teeth.

well actually for that last one he just eats peppermint candy and calls it a day.

When L's handcuffed to Light, they sleep in the same bed. Well, usually L's still working, but he actually does a lot of things in Light's side of the bed. Like eat his food. especially crunchy crumbly food. petty ass.

if you can manage to sit on his lap while he's in his 40% frog pose you can stay there.

you will be used as a stress ball.

feed him sweets. he'll melt once he's distracted from work enough to realise your fingers are pressing the candies into his mouth

what lovely hands you have perhaps you should put them in his mouth

L loves the rain but I think he would prefer experiencing it in a small garden rather than a rooftop. or just in a driveway. the rooftops are just too high. he can see everything and it makes him feel small at a time he wants to feel at one with the whole world.

I'm seriously debating over whether he can square dance you drunk or if he has three left feet because it's one extreme or the other

his wardrobe looks like Homer Simpson's.

sigh. I kind of feel like L is often too busy to shave and usually has some degree of stubble. if you don't like it help him shave please he'll die kiss you

L probably has a lot of burner phones but no matter how you contact him, even in person, you're only allowed to call him L or Lawliet when you are completely completely definitely alone and you'll usually have to whisper. whisper in his ear and lick his neck he will literally shiver

anyway the point I was ACTUALLY going to make is call him lollipop (sweets. and sounds like Lawli-pop)

likes to just stare at you. no emotion in those pretty bottomless grey eyes of his but his internal monologue has suddenly switched to describe everything he likes about you.

big sucker for kisses. no time. :(

Light: orange tang dark cocoa drink

Okay but Light, when he isn't Kira, would actually be the sweetest boyfriend alive. Now yes I know he's portrayed as bored and apathetic but if he fell in love he would fall HARD!! to the centre of the earth!!! in his confession he might even propose getting married and raising 10 kids!!

honestly this kid shuts himself off from other people as much as L does, the only difference is that he's easier to get to. be his friend. ask about him.

sigh he'd buy you flowers.

he's got such a goofy laugh he sounds like a baby hyena or something.

Light is the kind of guy who would have the weirdest dreams. like "my entire class from high school went to a water park and I uncovered a cult that was plotting to kill me and sacrifice me to the teacher and-" if you let him explain in detail it's going on for hours.

every time L eats his food on Light's side of the bed, Light cuts his nails on L's side of the bed. petty ass #2

he would not like an "orange tang dark cocoa drink."

I feel like the best way to meet Light would be through the school's debate team. I started thinking about this when watching the musical (it wasn't a debate team but it WAS a debate)

omg if you managed to BEAT him?

who is this. he must know immediately. and also you were wrong back there- you hang out in the library? why hello there

his favourite food as a child was dinosaur nuggies. he thought they were made from dinosaur meat.

he still loves dino nuggies

okay as for when Light IS Kira. some of this is for if you have a relationship beforehand, some if you meet after.

you're actually one of the few people, along with Sayu and to some degree his parents, who he REALLY doesn't want to tell in case you hate him. but at the same time would you like to be the first angel of the new world?????

so he tries to figure out what you think of Kira. God or the Devil?

please love him. please don't hate him.

and let's be honest even if you don't think much of yourself you'd be much better help than Misa, who cut her life in half anyway.

I think Light's the kind of guy who, if he did perchance meet you as a detective on the Task Force would condition you to like him with a neat little psychological trick we like to call POSITIVE REINFORCEMENT.

you get something you like every time you see him and soon enough you get excited to see him!

at the same time he's constantly making you question whether Kira SHOULD be caught, all Inception style.

you'll love him. or you'll die. jk! (he's not)

Misa: chocolate mint icecream parfait

when she was little she wore rainbow clothes. real 180 when it turned to black black black.

loooves the beach.

sand! sun! swimming! bikini modelling! seashells! surfboards! sexy men with no shirts on! LIGHT WITH NO SHIRT ON!!!!

Misa has a really large collection of earrings of all types. kittens, the solar system, swords.

If you're friends with her she'll eventually pull you along to a modelling gig. No matter how much you protest, it will eventually happen. You'll just be there. Just pray Misa didn't forget to check the schedule and today is lingerie day.

she has 4000 photos on her phone, 3500 of which are selfies and 1750 of which have you in them.

her favourite Pokémon is Stufful!

Misa loves making origami and had a couple hundred paper cranes hanging from the roof of her bedroom when she lived with her parents.

This girl's FAVOURITE thing to do is hold hands. She would never let go if possible. Paint her fingernails and do her makeup, she'd be utterly devoted to you forever and ever. She'll do the same for you if you want.

Has a great singing voice!

Loves flowers. she reminds me of sunflowers in particular. give her bouquets. she'll put them everywhere and watch them slowly die with a smile.

Out of all food "types" I think Misa would like pastries and bakery food the most.

Her favourite letter used to be "L" but then she met L and it immediately became "H". "L" is now number 26 on the list.

Misa has the biggest collection of unused stickers and stamps to ever exist. She thinks they're really pretty.

if you're dating her or even someone else, DOUBLE DATES. anywhere and everywhere. parks. movies. restaurants. she will show up in your bedroom at night.

dressed up as the grim reaper for the past 5 Halloweens straight. only ate candy in pink wrapping.

she's a little like a cat in that she's prone to just knock coffee over paperwork or press her hands all over your keyboard. but, like a cat, she's too adorable to be angry at.

pick her up. spin her around. kiss her.

Matsuda: chocolate mousse + full milk cream

got really excited when Misa started talking about Pokémon but realised she just liked them because they're cute.. sob! he just wants someone to play Pokémon Go! with him!!!!

a very good chef. more actual meals than pastries etc though.

ughhhh his chicken parmigiana tastes like HEAVEN. the salad on the side is LIQUID GOLD.

just a silly little man who takes four tries to tie his tie properly every morning.

he can walk on his hands *bites lip sexily and accidentally breaks the skin, gets an infection and goes to hospital*

sigh he's so pathetic I love him

but goddamn. you guys remember that episode Matsuda overheard the Yotsuba meeting?? When he got his colour like L and Light AND HIS EXPRESSION???

sometimes he has unintentional moments like that, so serious and cool.

If you were dating him during the Kira case he'd ask L to help him erase every single record of your name to protect you. if L didn't agree the first time he'd make sweets with you to give to him. Matsuda is as cunning as anyone when he needs to be, though he hates doing it and can usually get along with puppy eyes.

"you really don't have to do that" when you tell him you love him or kiss him or just smile at him. he's too nice for his own good.

please coach him out of people pleasing.

I think he'd be really into camping actually!! can you imagine him in a silly little hat sitting around a campfire and toasting s'mores and damper?

His ENTIRE face lights up when he sees you. He thinks he's slick about hiding his crush from you but he really isn't.

he would just die if you had time to cuddle and watch a movie together one night. little kissies and calling him cute and really in general not watching the movie, just cuddling

He'd be the best friend EVER. super supportive and funny and generally just great. he'd make you soup if you got sick. he would hold your hair out of your face when you threw up. and then he would probably have to throw up too.

sorry that got a little gross dhbdbd

uhh Matsuda only drives Mazdas. he thinks it's funny (the name of the car came from the surname Matsuda). I think he'd like blue cars.

he likes to decorate the Task Force for the holidays to bring cheer and raise morale. he's the one reason nobody's gone insane yet (except Light but that couldn't be helped)

　★━━─・‥…━━━☆

𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖙 ˏˋ⋆˖⁺˖⁀➷ 𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌 + 𝖋𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜

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charon-cries · 1 month

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Hiya! Hope this message finds u well :3 I absolutely love your art; found you from insta! Quick question also; I’m not sure if you’ve answered this before, but which brushes do you use for ur digital art? I love the textures they’re so crunchy (endearing)!! Have a lovely day!! :D

hello!! here's a little brush tour ft. this half rendered martin.

also, a great app for ipad artists who really want to dig into texture is art set 4. i swear by it and i've been using it for about two years. none of my more recent art uses it, but that's just because i'm experimenting with my process rn

so here's a list of my most used brushes lately, and there will be links to all of them at the bottom of this post.

the two labeled "custom pencil" are both my own personal modified pencils (both sourced from the 6b pencil) but the narinder pencil and the vanilla 6b pencil are both very similar to them. i use these two for sketching and flat color specifically, and if you do specifically want these two brushes then i'd be happy to upload them somewhere for you to download, but they're not really necessary for texture

i also use G&B halftone brushes sometimes! but i greatly prefer the RSCO sample pack, and i cannot find the link to the G&B brushes no matter how hard i google, and pretty much any halftone brush set will do the same job

and here's what they look like in practice!

(i like to set these halftones to color burn. color burn is my most used blending mode, even for shading)

and then i hit "copy all," paste, and duplicate it. so you should have two layers of just your entire canvas. then import a paper texture

i'm partial to the set i'll link down below, my favorite is #5. you should absolutely check out the rest of the free texture packs on their website if you're wanting to diversify your texture process btw, all of their stuff is fantastic.

to use that texture, your layers should look like this!

on the layer set to the linear burn, i also like to go into the adjustments menu and bump up the brightness until all of the colors are at similar values to what they were before. and the normal layer on top is just to control the intensity/opacity of the paper texture!

after all of that, sometimes i'll go in with brushes like MM rake follow, or more from COFE's weird pencils, on top of all of those layers for finishing touches.

definitely play around with it, try new free brushes all of the time (i heavily recommended subscribing to Manero. they have a lot of free stuff and it's all fantastic) and see what works for you <3

here are the links to the brushes in this post, as well as some extras! some of them are paid and some of them are completely free. + it wasn't mentioned here, but i use the tatyworks linen fabric brush for blending! for any of the paid brushes, i'll try to link some free alternatives

paid brushes:

alternatives to paid brushes:

free brushes:

extra goodies:

#procreate art #procreate brushes #art tutorial #artists on tumblr #digital art #digital artist #art recommendations #art resources

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weelittleweasley · 3 years

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a house on the beach (g.w.)

prompt: a little beach getaway makes you grateful for all that you have.

pairing: george weasley x fem! reader

warnings: food, mention of the war, mention of Fred’s death, mention of children

word count: 2.2k

taglist: @rosaliepostsstuff @harrysweasleys @gcdricreads @lumos-barnes @whizboingies @lumosandnoxwriting @pxroxide-prinxcesss @c-t-h @lol-idk-oops @another-lonely-heart-blog @kaseyrose96-blog @hufflepuff5972 @amourtentiaa @parseltongueswriting @shilohpug @peachypotter @spacexcowgirl @paintballkid711 @vogueweasley @freddie-weaselbee @gryffindcrghost @wand3ringr0s3 @valwritesx @sweeterthansammy @loonylovegood13 @lostaurorax

Excitement overwhelmed your senses as you dropped your bag to the floor of the house, running to the back porch and down the stairs, ignoring George’s calls, too desperate to feel the sand underneath your feet. You pried your shoes off from the long drive and plunged them into the warm sand as you sighed out with a happy giggle. The sand covered your skin as you smiled to yourself, giving your toes a wiggle before walking, more running, over to the salty ocean water.

The moment your toes touched the water, relief and relaxation flooded over you, the sound of the waves crashing on the shore, the echos of birds chirping sounded down the beach. The smell of salty air and sun cream filled your nose as you inhaled happily, finally in the place that made you happy. The early summer sun beat down on your skin, warming you through your t-shirt as you extended your arms, embracing the sensations that washed over you like the waves.

George watched you from the porch, how you happily danced in the water, waving your hands, inviting you to join him. He smiled to himself with a sigh before taking off his own shoes, joining you on the shore.

As he walked to you, he watched how the breeze moved through your hair, making it dance, as you kicked your feet in the blue water, giggling to yourself. You were unearthly, standing there in your radiance with a beaming smile on your face. George’s heart swelled in his chest as he looked upon you with love in his eyes and adoration in his heart.

When he reached you, he slipped his fingers in yours and placed a soft kiss to your lips, tilting your chin up with one of his fingers to reach your lips. “Happy?” he asked with a teasing grin on his lips as you beamed and nodded.

“Thrilled,” you giggled. “Isn’t this nice? Much needed getaway for the both of us, don’t you think?” you combed your fingers through his hair, already crunchy with sea breeze.

This holiday was unprompted, but with the booming business of the joke shoppe and your overwhelming work schedule, you both decided a getaway was much needed for the both of you. Just a quiet weekend with the two of you, enjoying some peace and quiet together. An escape to the beach seemed like the perfect place to do so considering it was one of your favorite places in the world. And George would do anything to see that smile on your face that he loved so much.

George placed a kiss to your forehead, “Much needed.” He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind you and rested his chin on the top of your head as the two of you stood and stared out at the ocean, watching the waves rise and fall and crash. You could stand there forever, in your lover’s arms, enjoying each other’s company whilst the ocean washed upon your ankles and toes every once in awhile. You sighed in contentment, not needing much more in this moment.

After about an hour of standing and walking up and down the beach, the two of you decided to unpack your overnight bags, settling yourself in the rental house. As you unpacked, you looked out the window, smiling to yourself. Right in front of the bed was a large window that faced the ocean. “Georgie?”

“Yes, my love?” he responded sweetly, looking up at you from the dresser, making your heart pitter-patter in your chest as his sweet chocolate eyes peered at you.

You nodded your head to the window. “I know I said we should sleep in this weekend, but I think we should get up for the sunrise tomorrow. We can watch it from the bed,” you suggest with a playful smile on your lips. Godric knows the two of you needed to sleep in, but the thought of watching an orangey sunrise from the bed sounded heavenly.

He gave a light chuckle before speaking, “Sounds like a plan. As long as we can go back to bed after.” You nodded excitedly which only made George laugh and walk over to you, taking you in his arms as you pressed a kiss to his jaw. “I’m glad I have you all to myself this weekend. No work, no distractions, no nothing. Just us.”

“I am, too,” you cooed back at him as he pressed his lips to yours gently, your kiss familiar and gentle. You could be hours away from shared flat, but wherever you were with George, that’s when you felt the most at home. In his arms, him holding you tight and not daring to let you. Gentle kisses pressed to lips, foreheads, and jaws, whispered I love you’s, and small giggles exchanged. This was your heaven.

The day was spent well. Laying in the sand, George’s head in your lap as you brushed his hair with one hand, the other holding a book as George closed his eyes, falling asleep to the sounds of the ocean and the sensation of you combing fingers through his hair. Every once in awhile, you lay your book down on the sand and just breathe in the salty air as the sun shone down on your skin. You smiled to yourself when you looked down at George, resting peacefully in your lap, sun cream smeared on his nose and under his eyes, making you gently giggle. He insisted he burned easily as he smeared the thick paste on his nose, refusing to blend it in. You shook your head and pressed a kiss to his freckled forehead, leaning back on your hands, sand flowing between your fingers.

The beach was empty, you and George being the only people on the beach for as far as your eye could see. It was nice, knowing that no one could disturb your peaceful getaway. Much needed after the last few years and the chaos that had weaseled its way into your lives. Some peace and quiet is exactly what you needed.

George eventually woke from his nap and insisted to go on a walk down the beach which you gladly accepted. His fingers laced with yours as you walked along the shoreline, water dancing over your feet now. George would groan each time the water caught the bottoms of his cuffed jeans, making you laugh. You looked at George with so much adoration in your eyes as he walked beside you. A shirtless wonder, his dark wash jeans hanging low on his toned body, one of his hands holding his shoes, the other cradling your hand as he pressed a kiss to it every few seconds, reminding you he was there. You’d smile sweet as you leaned over to press a kiss to his sun chapped lips.

Jokingly, George kicked over water so it splashed on you as you squealed, the cold water hitting your exposed skin. “Don’t you dare, George Weasley,” you warned him as he laughed before doing it yet again, making you break out in a run away from him, darting down the beach. But George of course wasn’t too far behind as you giggled, running away from him as he chased after you.

“Not so fast, you,” he laughed before scooping you up in his arms, peppering your face with kisses as you wildly laughed, writhing in his grip. His strong arms wrapped around you, squeezing you tight as you threw your head back with laughter, George taking the opportunity to place kisses all over your jaw and neck. “Can’t get away from me that easily.”

Back at the house, you and George munched on takeout as you two draped yourselves on the couch, soft music playing in the background. The two of you enjoyed the comfortable silence, eating your food, listening to the gentle music, legs tangled as you rested on opposite sides of the couch. As the two of you finished your dinner, George broke the silence with a quiet question. “You think we’ll have a boy or a girl first?” he asked, wiping his mouth with a crinkled napkin.

You furrowed your brows. You and George often spoke of your future, but usually about where you would move or marriage. Never really about kids. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” George smiled. “Our kids. Which do you think we’ll have first?”

With a smile, you placed your empty plate on the coffee table and scooted closer to George, wrapping your arms around his neck as he rested his hands on your hips with a small smile. “Well,” you think, searching your mind, “I don’t mind which we have first. As long as the baby is happy and healthy.”

George smiled and placed a kiss on the tip of your nose. “What names do you like?” he asked, rubbing small circles on your hip bones, smiling gently.

“For a girl...I like Giselle or Emilia,” you smiled to yourself. You had always loved those two names for your baby girl, having them in your memory since you were a fifth year. George nodded his head in agreement. “For a boy...” you trailed off as you thought. When selecting a name for your future children, you wanted to pick a name you liked, but also something with meaning. Something with significance. And that’s when it hit you. “...if it’s alright with you, G,” you started, “I’d want to name our son after Fred.”

The mention of his twin’s name tugs at George’s heart strings. Memories of his twin flood his mind and bring warmth in his chest. George missed his other half every day and it only grew. Coping with Fred’s death was brutal for George and he was thankful that he had you next to him every step of the way. Each day got a little easier, but each day he missed him more and more. George swallowed thickly before giving a shaky sigh, “Yeah. I’d like that.”

You cupped George’s cheek and brushed it softly with your thumb as he sighed, leaning into your touch. With a small smile, he bit down softly on your thumb, making you giggle lightly. “Where are we living?” you change the subject as George runs his fingers through his hair.

“Somewhere with lots of space,” he smiled. “I want the kids to have space to run and play like we did as kids,” he beamed as you smiled to yourself, combing fingers through his hair, making him melt underneath your touch. “Not too close to the shoppe, but not too far away. Somewhere just right,” he smiles softly. “Just me, you, and our nine kids,” he pokes at your sides, making you roll your eyes and laugh.

Even though you rarely spoke about children, you knew that George wanted a large family. He wanted a house full of children, loudly stomping around, filling the house with love and laughter that reminded him so of his own childhood. George wanted to have a family, you the mother of his children and the love of his life by his side. George thought about you as a mother and how loving you would be towards your future children. It made his chest warm and his cheeks red with delight.

“Well, if we’re having nine children, we’re going to need more names,” you tease him as he chuckles, placing a kiss to your chin. “So, we’ve got the house, we’ve got the kids, what else is in store for us?” you gently smile as George gives your hips a squeeze.

He thinks for a moment before a toothy grin appears on his face. “I’m going to get us a house like this one,” he suggests as you furrow your brows. “I’m going to get us a house on the beach.” But before you can interrupt him with how you both didn’t need a house like this, he starts, “You love the beach, angel. The look on your face when we first got here was priceless. I want to get you a house like this so you can feel like that whenever you want.”

Your heart swells with so much love as you sigh happily, brushing George’s cheek with your thumb. George wanted to give you the world and he would do it with a grin on his face and pep in his step. You knew growing up he didn’t have much, so the fact that he was so adamant on giving you and your future family a life he didn’t have made your heart melt. “Georgie...” you sigh.

“I want to give you the life you deserve,” he speaks simply with sincerity.

Taking his face in your hands, you place a firm kiss to his lips before pressing your forehead against his. “The life I want is a life with you,” you tell him. “I don’t need anything else, George. Just you and me.” George smiles lightly before placing one, two soft kisses on your lips. “I don’t need a house on the beach. You’re my beach,” you giggle.

He chuckles, “I like that. I’m like the sand. I get everywhere and you can’t get rid of me.” His comment makes you laugh as he cuddles closer to you, wrapping his arms around your middle, pulling you further into his lap.

#Fred and George #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagine #george weasley #george weasley x #george weasley x reader #george wealsey imagine #george weasley x reader imagine #george weasley x fem #george weasley x femreader #george weasley x fem! reader #george weasley x fem reader #Harry Potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfic #Harry Potter Smut #harry imagine

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

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Will Miller: Sex in Publix

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: Here’s Part 2 of you and savage cereal killer Will Miller indulging in hot public sex!! Recommend reading Part 1 first, for context.

Pairing: Will “Ironhead” Miller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, teasing, fingering and finger sucking, light choking, dom!Will, sex in public (obvs)

Word Count: ~2.1k

... Continued from Part 1 [Read Here]

“So, um...” you bite your tongue, still not quite sure if you’re prepared for what’s to come, “...this is a first for us.”

Will smirks down at you trembling against him. “Mm-hmm. You nervous?”

Goddamn, that smirk... he looks all set to chew you up just like his chewing gum. Traces your bottom lip with the tip of his thumb, demanding a response to his question. You gasp as his other hand grabs your ass, pulling you toward him more tightly. “Should I be?”

“Maybe. Heart’s racing like crazy,” he states as if you hadn’t noticed already. “Good to know that I still give you butterflies, baby.”

“Just shut up and take me.”

His smirk widens, grip tightens. Hips grinding harder against you to make sure you feel the full length of his dick. “Hmm, you think this is gonna be quick?”

“Babe, it better be—”

“Why’s that?” he wickedly asks. “You scared of the fact that some stranger could come any minute and watch as I’m fucking you silly?”

“Ugh God, Will—you’re going to kill me...”

“Not really. Not literally, at least. D’you think I’m that much of a beast?”

Your subconscious can’t help but revisit the violent cereal aisle scene. “Well, I mean...”

Will knows just what you’re thinking and laughs it off brusquely. “Might feel like you’ve died by the time I’m done wrecking this tight little pussy,” he taunts, as he suddenly reaches right into your panties to play with your dripping wet cunt. “Fuck, you’re soaking already. So juicy.”

Before pressing his mouth to yours, Will turns quickly to spit out the gum in his mouth, shoots it onto the floor.

It takes a lot of self-restraint to keep yourself from just submitting like a whore. You have to tease him just a little more. “Littering? What happened to us being such model citizens?” you look down at the chewed piece of gum on the ground with a critical frown. “Real classy, William. You sure do know how to seduce me...”

“Babe, we both know I seduced you the day we first met,” he reminds you; it’s true. “Now shut up and stay quiet. ‘Cause you’re gonna get a good hard public fuck you won’t ever forget.”

God, you’ve never been so fucking wet. It’s a good thing you’re wearing a dress, giving Will easy access; his fingers get busy all over your pussy, while his other hand lifts up to anchor your head, softly cradling it to make sure you don’t fall over dead.

“Mmm, I bet I could get you to cum just like this,” he says, littering kisses across the soft skin of neck and the side of your face, before sliding his tongue between your gasping lips. You love the way Will manages dirty talk in the midst of a kiss. “Any second. Just watch you get off on me touching this hot little cunt. Is that what you want?”

You just let out a moan as you savor each word off his tongue. Too far gone to respond.

Will loves making you needy and weak, absolutely unable to speak. Fuck, he does it so well. You’ve never been so damn turned on; he can tell. Downright gloating with pride as he pulls his hand out from between your thighs, bringing it up to your mouth while he tenderly tilts your head back on the shelves. “You don’t get to cum yet. But it’s so fucking hot that the thought of it gets you so wet. Taste yourself.”

Holy hell... are you actually gonna be such a damn slut while he pushes you up against boxes of cereal? Really, Will...?

Really, apparently. Reading your mind like he always has, Will answers silently, all the questions you should not have to ask. And the ravenous look in his eyes fills you with such a thrill. Radiating raw hunger and heat. “Taste how slutty you are for me. Isn’t that sweet?”

He dips two fingers in between your parted lips, your helpless mouth accepting everything he feeds. His dominance is everything you need...

“Now suck,” he orders, pushing his fingers in deeper and harder. “Suck on that like it’s my cock.”

Jesus Christ. He’s so hot you could die. Needless to say, his cock is way bigger than two of his fingers. But you understand the command... and you’re glad to obey, as you’re fucking obsessed with his hands. You gush to him often about how you’ve never seen such gorgeous hands on a man; all at once strong and beautiful, pretty and powerful, structured and skilled and so savage it kills.

You could honestly cum from the taste of yourself on his knuckles. Drowning in the deep blue of his gaze as your last shred of dignity fades, as your knees start to buckle...

That’s when he pulls out, fingers slick as they slip from your breathless mouth. Claims your lips in a long heated kiss again, sucking the flavor of you from your tongue, savoring your submission as he steals the air from your lungs.

“Taste so good, babe,” Will mutters, his breath all the air that you crave. “Never better. You taste even sweeter now we’re doing something so wrong.”

You’re too lost in the kiss to notice what is happening further below. With one hand he’s begun to unfasten his belt, while the other caresses your tits through your dress as you shudder and melt, every touch all at once fast and slow.

And then all of a sudden, the next thing you know, you feel him at your entrance. The head of his cock brushing over your sensitive clit. You’re in shock from how swiftly and smoothly it happens. Holy shit... how the hell does he do it? With Will Fucking Miller, time bends; all eternity ends and begins in a matter of seconds.

This man is pure magic. And his massive dick, throbbing like mad between his muscled thighs... Jesus Christ—it’s so hard and so thick... he has never felt so fucking big.

Will pulls off of the kiss then to whisper words into your ear. “Mmm, you want me to fuck you right here? Make you moan for the whole fucking world to hear?”

“Yes—yes, sir...!” you breathlessly answer. This man is your master.

He rubs the wet tip of his cock across your pussy lips, smirking like the goddamn dirty bastard he is. Always loves making you come undone. “Mmm, does that turn you on? Knowing we’re fucking in public? You ready to take this big dick, in that soaking wet cunt? Tell me, slut. Now is that what you want?”

“Oh God, yes, Will... I need you to fuck me—now, please...”

“Yes what?” he demands, wrapping your throat in one of his hands, with a gentle yet dominant squeeze. He still wants you to breathe; he would never choke you hard enough to make you piss your pants, or anything like that, but he knows you get off on the fact that he can. Just the thought... just the way he had done to that poor man, in this very spot... savage cereal killer Will Miller is so fucking hot. You’re engaged to an actual sex god.

“Yes, sir...” you correct, giving him the respect he so rightly deserves.

Will doesn’t even bother to tell you that’s better. He just fucking smirks again, watching you soak in your thirst for him. Loving the way you obey and embrace your position, to yield in submission, to please and to serve.

He hoists you up against the shelves, helping you wrap your legs around him since God knows you won’t be able to support your weight yourself. Not once he starts dicking you down. You know it all too well, the way your whole body responds once Will begins to go to town, the way he pounces on your cunt and fucking pounds...

And sure enough, it’s no different this time around. All hard and rough, the way you love—he settles in between your thighs and thrusts so deep inside, splitting your pussy open wide, just drills and drives until you barely feel alive.

It is hands down the hottest sex of your entire life. It’s a good thing that Will is kissing you the whole time; you’d be screaming bloody fucking murder otherwise, sounding alarms for some kind of high crime. His body wrapped between your legs, you latch your arms tighter around his sturdy neck. Will is your anchor even as he rocks your world with this intense session of filthy public sex. The captain of your ship, the only thing keeping you steady as you sink into his lips; he feels like safe harbor, now even as he fucks you even harder, ravages you with the bucking of his hips and fucking wrecks.

By the time he takes you to the edge, you have lost all control. Your limp arms collapse down from his neck but then thrash out on instinct, desperate for something, any damn thing to hold. One hand randomly lands on that half-busted box full of cereal—the very one that you had told him to punch—which you’d set on the shelf just behind you, before you gave in to the power of Will.

But he fucks you so hard that the shelves fucking rattle, and Cap’n Crunch isn’t prepared for that battle... soon your hand loses the grip that it’s found, and the box tumbles onto the ground.

Will had done quite a bit of damage to that poor piece of cardboard. So the second the box clatters down, there’s a loud crunchy sound as the box breaks and scatters its contents all over the floor. Cereal everywhere. On some level, you notice... but on every level, you’re riding too high on sheer bliss, and too horny to care. You can’t think about anything other than Will fucking you anymore. You are nothing but his filthy whore. Nothing else matters—nobody else in this store, nothing else in the world...

As it happens, you’re both on the edge of exploding in that very moment. The crunchfest had just provided some nice sound effects. Fireworks, as it were, matching those going off in your head, as the force of Will’s cock knocks you dead. As you feel his cum shooting inside you all sticky and wet, your cunt pulsing in pleasure, as you hit that sweet spot in such perfect sync with each other, both falling apart to the beat of one heart as you come together.

You’ve never cum harder than that, and Will neither. Not ever. A big part of it, to be sure, was the pure thrill of fucking in public... yet you know it was built up on more than just kinks, more than mere words could measure. This ship never sinks, for it’s built on the bond that you’ve forged through the storms that you’ve weathered. You’ll weather them over and over.

As you and Will both take a minute to breathe and recover, you hold him closer and feel so fucking blessed to be with such a big-hearted warrior... who also happens to be a big-dicked god of sex, and the most perfect lover.

He kisses your forehead and flashes a smile, then glances guiltily down at the cereal strewn all across the aisle.

You follow his gaze, with a lighthearted laugh as you mirror the smile on his face. Any second now, after the sound of the crunchy shit spilling all over the ground, no doubt a store attendant’s bound to come around...

But until someone else comes, you just can’t be bothered to care at the moment. Not now when his cock is still buried inside your cunt, filling you up to the brim with his cum. The feeling feels like fucking home. “So, um...”

Will kisses you again and finishes the sentence. “...clean-up in Aisle 6?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum. For more reasons than one, you think, given the flood that’s gonna pour onto the floor as soon as you hop off his dick...

He looks down fondly at the busted box he punched. “Well, guess I’m now officially a fan of Cap’n Crunch.”

God, you love him so much. So much that you’re not even ashamed of the mess that you made in Aisle 6. It was so fucking worth it, you think as he kisses the next few words off of your lips. “And I’m officially a fan of sex in Publix.”

***************

Hope you enjoyed this!! As always, would love to hear if you did! 🤗💖

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paradisetemporarilymisplaced · 3 years

Note

omg please drop all of your haircare knowledge, asking for a wavy/curly friend

HELLO YES I LOVE TALKING ABT THIS

So once upon a time I spent weeks on end on naturallycurly.com reading about wavy hair care specifically. I had just moved to Colorado six months before and my hair was Not loving the climate shift - the higher altitude results in dryer air and my hair was unmanageable and gross 100% of the time and I was sick of it. This article in particular was unbelievably helpful and it formed the basis of my research.

Here’s my before (spring 2019) and after (spring 2020):

(I have not really been styling my hair and/or taking selfies since then because. Pandemic. Not much point in going to that much effort just to work from home lol)

Below the cut are more specific tips for washing/styling, featuring linked articles, tutorials, and products. I do want to acknowledge that these are adapted from the methods Black women have been using to care for their (type 4) hair for generations - the methods largely work for 2&3 hair types too, but with some modifications (e.g., white people don’t generally need to add extra oil to moisturize their hair between washes). If you’re going to buy products, buy from Black-owned companies whenever possible! Ecoslay and Inahsi are two of my favorites.

Some general tips:

Know the general state of your hair. Is it dense or thin? Are the strands coarse or fine? Is it damaged from color and/or heat? If it’s dense and/or coarse, you’ll want heavier products to penetrate the strands (like gels). If it’s thin and/or fine, you’ll want lighter products to not weigh them down (like mousses). If it’s damaged, you’ll want heavy stuff with a lot of protein to get it healthy.

Protein and moisture are key to balancing your hair. Protein deficiency/excess moisture results in hair that’s too soft and doesn’t hold a curl, while moisture deficiency/excess protein is when your hair feels crunchy without anything in it. Odds are if you’ve been using sulfate-heavy products you’ll need a heavy dose of both. My hair was so protein-starved that I had to do two gelatin treatments to build it back up but I haven’t had to do anything like that since

Ingredients: cut out sulfates and silicones. Sulfates dry out your hair and silicones coat the strands and weigh it down. Ingredient labels are your friends - sulfates are pretty easy to spot (e.g., sodium laureth sulfate) and silicones usually end in ‘cone’ (e.g., dimethicone). Some people also avoid heavy oils and butters (e.g., shea butter) but it really depends on how thick your hair is and how tight your curls are. I generally avoid them because they weigh down my looser curls but others with tighter curl patterns find them moisturizing and helpful. When in doubt, plug the ingredient list into Curlsbot to see what's curl friendly and what's not.

You do not need fancy products. I've linked some of my faves in here but there's plenty of inexpensive stuff available at drug stores. @coffeecurlygirl on Instagram has some highlights where she's reviewed curl-friendly drug store products. I am also American, so product availability may be different in other places. Curl Maven (based in Ireland) is a treasure trove of product information for Europe, as well as an excellent source for curly hair care in general.

Washing:

The most important part of washing your hair and scalp isn’t the cleanser, it’s the friction. Some people find success with cowashing, which is when you use a conditioner to wash your hair. This moisturizes your scalp and prevents your hair from drying out with the cleansing agents. Others like having something more cleansing and use a sulfate-free shampoo (usually containing something like sodium olefin 14-16 sulfonate). I tend to switch cleansers whenever I wash - I like the As I Am Dry and Itchy Scalp cowash, Trader Joe’s Tea Tree Tingle shampoo, and a medicated shampoo & conditioner 2 in 1 deal. (My scalp is dry 100% of the time, it’s a struggle.) I also recommend getting a shampoo brush to really scrub it in there.

Conditioning is probably the most important step in your routine. Again, knowing your hair is really important here! Conditioners come in a huge range of heaviness. I have relatively thick hair and I like heavy conditioners. You want one that you can apply to your hair and practically feel it detangle itself. I like Giovanni conditioners best - the Deeper Moisture and Tea Tree Triple Treat are both good. You want to avoid your scalp because that’s where buildup happens, so apply to the length of your hair and squish it in (tutorial) from the bottom to form your curl clumps and ensure it penetrates each strand.

Clarifying is also something you want to do every so often. You’ll end up with some buildup on your hair no matter what so this is when you need an actual cleanser to break it down. You can get clarifying shampoos (Bumble & Bumble has one but I’ve never used it) but honestly you just need a normal sulfate shampoo. I use Suave Daily Clarifying (do not use it daily) which is like a dollar and will last forever.

After clarifying you should deep condition to restore moisture to your hair. My favorite these days is Jessicurl, but when I first started out this whole thing I needed something super protein-heavy so I used Curl Junkie’s Repair Me. In the middle of the road is something like Inahsi which is relatively balanced between moisture and protein. It all depends on what your hair needs. Apply after washing, let it sit on your hair for 30-45 minutes (use a shower cap and ideally a heat cap for max effectiveness). Rinse and style as usual.

Don’t use a normal towel to dry your hair. Terrycloth is a one-way ticket to Frizz City. You can buy microfiber towels made specifically for hair but you can also just use a tshirt. Also don’t rub your hair when you dry it, instead squeeze the water out from the bottom to preserve your curl pattern and prevent frizz.

You probably don’t have to wash your hair as often as you think. I wash my hair once or twice a week and it gets the job done. It takes much longer for curly hair to get gross and oily than for straight hair - my sister’s hair is stick straight and she has to wash every day.

Styling:

The products you use are much less important than the technique. Youtube is super helpful for demonstrations of how to apply products - reallife+curlygirl has my favorite channel for this.

Leave in conditioner is a must. I recommend finding something that’s intended to be a leave in, but some people just leave in some of the conditioner they used in the shower. Same deal, apply only to your ends, not the scalp.

After the leave in, here’s where the fun begins! Apply your styling products when your hair is soaking wet (like, immediately after your shower). I like to use a curl enhancer (eg Ecoslay’s Orange Marmalade or Uncle Funky’s Curl Magic) and then a gel over top (pretty much any drug store brand works - Aussie, LA Looks, etc.). Squish it in like you did your conditioner and use a lot of water. I legit have a mixing bowl that I keep in my shower and fill partway with water when applying so I can scoop in more water as needed. Squish until you can’t really feel the product anymore and then you’re good.

Plop your hair to set the curls (tutorial). Let it sit for 15-20 minutes. If you’re feeling extra you can add more gel once you take it down.

Diffuse dry (tutorial). DO NOT use a hair dryer without a diffuser, the direct heat is too intense and won’t give you good results.

Your hair will probably be a little crunchy after you’re done. Wait however long you want/can (at least until your hair has cooled down and it’s 100% dry) and then scrunch it out. No ramen noodle hair and your curls have set!

This can all be super overwhelming but is super worth it. You can see how much it's benefited my hair and I have no regrets. Most of these tips are things that have specifically worked for me, but if you want a more general (and better explained) quick-start guide for curl care, Curl Maven is a fantastic resource. There are a zillion places on the internet to get information, but I strongly recommend just sticking to a few: Naturally Curly, reallife+curlygirl, and Curl Maven are the best I've found and seem to cover the most ground. There's also a thriving Instagram community but proceed with caution - big Mormon mom energy over there, for whatever reason.

Finally, while the curls are great, the biggest change I’ve seen has been in the overall health of my hair. Washing less means my hair doesn’t get dried out as quickly, and even when I don’t style my hair (leave-in only and air dry) my hair still has some volume which is nuts. You don’t have to do all the styling every time you wash to get the benefits.

Hope this is helpful! Godspeed, my friend.

#smolpoe #answered #face #hair care #curl care #sorry this took a few days and is very long #my problem is that i have spent so many years in academia that i'm incapable of writing anything less than a well-sourced novel #no matter the context #lmk if you have any more questions and/or if anything i wrote needs further clarification #also i didn't mention it in the post but generally speaking this is based on the curly girl method #which i don't love bc (a) why gender hair care and (b) the lady who coined the term is. hm. Not Great #i try to be thoughtful with hair stuff bc. as i said. black women have been doing this for centuries #and white women do not get to co-opt the natural hair movement no matter how hard they try #but like i said the methods still work. you just can't claim that you came up with them #which is what the 'founder' of the curly girl method did. then she created devacurl very explicitly to profit off that knowledge #curly/wavy hair is not political for white women and too many bloggers seem to think it is #anyway! all this to say i'm trying to stay in my lane and share the info i've found most helpful #while acknowledging the actual sources of said info

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danversxluthor · 3 years

Text

Shoes

------------------------

One shot of a morning in the Danvers-Luthor household with Kara, Lena, Lori and El. El gets overwhelmed easily when her routine is disrupted but Lena is always prepared for the inevitable meltdowns.

-------------------------

The day started as any usual Monday morning in the Danvers-Luthor household. Lena was in the kitchen sipping at her second cup of coffee while reading through the materials for her first meeting of the day. Kara had just finished getting dressed and was making her way down the hall to check to make sure the kids were up and moving. Kara wasn’t surprised to find El already up, dressed, and bed made.

“Ready to go little one.” Kara brushed her hand lightly through El’s long dark hair. El only flinched slightly at the contact but nodded her approval. The young girl gave her Jeje an apologetic smile before putting her noise cancelling headphones on and heading downstairs for breakfast. Even though Kara was used to El’s reaction to physical contact, it always hurt a little not to be able to hug and comfort her youngest child as she did Lori.

Now for the most difficult part of the morning. Lori’s door was still shut and lights out. Kara already knew her 16 year old was still dead asleep.

Knock knock. Kara pulled Lori’s door open and turns the lights on. Still no movement. She walks over to her daughter’s bed and sits down gently rubbing Lori’s back.

“Come on Lor, it's time to get up bub.” Lori huffs and flips her blond hair to the side, dropping her head back to the pillow. It always made Kara laugh, how Lori had all of Lena’s stubborn attitude and then some. Lori was coming into her own more and more, especially now that she had the extra freedom of a driver's license.

“Seriously though, get up bub.... Lori, you’re going to be late!” Kara tried.

“Go away…” came a mumble for the sheets. Kara got up and walked toward the door; she learned there was only so much pushing would do when it came to Lori. But, she still had one card up her sleeve that always worked.

“Fine, but I dont think mom will be too happy if you’re late to school again. Oh wait, didn’t she say something about taking the car away?” Kara left and immediately heard Lori get up and start moving.

--------------

Lena’s head popped up from her papers when she heard the soft footsteps coming down the stairs. El gave Lena a small smile.

“Good morning Ellie.” Even with her headphones, El could understand. The doctors hypothesized that she was a master at lip reading. The teen gave her mom another small smile in return and started making herself a bowl of oatmeal. They learned early on that El didnt like crunchy foods--no toast, no cereal, nothing overly textured.

“Not gonna brag, but I got Lori up in under 5 minutes this time.” Kara announced with a self satisfied grin as she made her way to her wife.

“And I should be impressed because?” Lena cocked an eyebrow, clearly not seeing the significance.

“Because, it usually takes 8 minutes and some yelling!”

“I do appreciate the absence of yelling, so I’ll give you that.” Lena leans over and gives her wife a congratulatory kiss.

“El, no headphones at the table.” Lena reminds her youngest who just sat down opposite her. El was so attached to her headphones ever since Lena had gotten them for her to help with El’s sound sensitivity. But now that El was in highschool, which was far less accommodating than her previous school, Lena and Kara made the decision to start mainstreaming El’s behavior as well. Even though El had her challenges, she was brilliant beyond comparison. El gave Lena a pleading look, without effect, before turning to Kara with her big puppy dog emerald eyes.

“Hey don’t look at me like that.” Kara jokingly scolded. “You know the rules little one.”

El reluctantly takes her headphones off and Lena places them on the kitchen island.

“They’ll be here when you get out of school El.” Lena reminds her daughter. El just nodded and returned to her breakfast.

“Lori, glad you could join us, love.” Lena greets her oldest who looks barely put together, blond hair left in a messy bun with her school bag thrown over her shoulder.

“Morning to you too mommy dearest.” Lori returns with sarcasm. Unlike her little sister, Lori is not a morning person.

“Lori…” Kara warns with her stern mom voice.

“Ugh, I know, sorry. It's too early. Need coffee.” Lori pours herself a large to go mug of black coffee before adding several large spoonfuls of sugar.

“Almost ready Ellie?” Lori asks her little sister, who nods in return and places her bowl in the kitchen sink. “Good because we’re gonna get the good parking space today, so get your shoes on so we can book it out of here.” El makes her way to the coat closet for shoes.

“By book it out of here you better mean drive the speed limit and observe all the rules of the road young lady.” Kara warns. Lori just rolls her eyes and heads out to her car.

A few minutes later and Lori is back inside looking irritated.

“Where the heck is El!?” Lori practically yells. “We’re going to be late!”

“Lori, noise level please.” Lena warns.

“Let me go see what’s going on. I’ll write you a note if you're late, ok?” Kara offered.

-------------

Kara walks over to the coat closet and is surprised to see what looks like a war zone of shoes thrown about the entire hallway and flustered El on the floor looking at shoe after shoe.

“Ellie, sweetie, what's going on?” Kara asks gently on the floor next to El. El flinches at Kara’s words but looks up at her Jeje with red rimmed eyes and pulls out her pocket notebook and pen.

Shoes? El passes the note to Kara.

“Oh, little one, we had to throw those out the other day. Remember they had holes in them?” El always wore the same shoes. A black pair of newbalance with white laces. El looked defeated and leaned up against the wall pulling her legs into her chest and proceeding to cry into her knees. Kara felt absolutely helpless in moments like these and she and Lena had plenty of moments with El like this.

“Kar--” Lena cut herself off when she saw El crying on the floor with shoes strewn about. “Hey what's going?” Lena kneeled in front of El, whose black hair was covering her face entirely now.

“It's about the shoes.” Kara whispered. Lena nodded knowingly and seemingly unsurprised. “I’ll tell Lori to head to school.” Kara got up and made her way back to Lori.

Lena got up and reached in the far back of the closet shelf and pulled out a shoe box.

“Ellie?” Lena waited patiently as she knelt down to El once more. “El” Lena gently placed a finger under El’s chin and brought the young girl’s now red tear stained face up to meet her own. “I know you liked your shoes but they had holes. But, I got you these.” Lena pulled out a brand new pair of the same newbalance shoes.

El was not happy with the new shoes and pulled out her pad of paper and wrote once more.

Want MY shoes.

“Ellie your old shoes are gone and I know you’re upset but you have the same brand new shoes right here.” Lena tried to pass the shoes to El again.

“El, I’m going to put them on you now ok?” El just stared at the ground as Lena pulled the shoes on El one at a time and tied them with double knots just the way El liked it.

“Come on Ellie, let's give them a spin, see how they feel, huh? Lena offered her hand to El who still had a tear stained face but had calmed significantly.

El took Lena’s hand and was pulled to her feet. Instead of testing the shoes, El immediately wrapped her arms around Lena in a big hug. El wasn't one for physical contact often but every once and awhile, especially after something overwhelming occurred, she just wanted to be held by her moms. Lena wrapped her arms tightly around El, pulling her daughter into her chest.

This was how Kara found the pair. Even though her daughters could be difficult at times, these were the moments she lived for. Lena looked over El’s head to see her wife looking on and decided it was time to break the hug, even though she'd prefer it to go on forever.

“Ok, Ellie, let's show Jeje your new shoes, huh?” El pulled back and inspected her feet, then took a few tentative steps before walking the rest of the way to Kara.

“Look just like the old ones, minus the holes.” Kara said brightly and El shrugged. “Now let's get you to school.”

#supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #danvers-luthor #baby!danvers #little!luthor #supercorpchild #supercorp daughter

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years

Text

Mister Cavill, your dog is kinda fat - Chapter 1

Summary: Veterinarian Olivia Tran has zero time for bullshit. After becoming a mom at age twenty three, the one thing she wants is a good life for her daughter Vanessa. Her ex didn’t want anything to do with her nor the baby and she decided that man are officially banned out of her life. But then she meets Henry Cavill at her clinic and her ban slowly starts to crumble apart. Henry on the other hand is looking for one thing: a family. And when he meets Olivia Tran, he finds just that.

Henry Cavill x Olivia Tran (ofc)

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 2.4k

A/N: The beginnings of a new fic! It’s kind of a build up, so there isn’t a lot of Henry Cavill inthis chapter, but the next one is from his pov and more than 4.5k. I hope you like this new story 🤗

Masterlist // Next chapter

For fuck’s sake, I can still smell the fluids from those anal glands I have been popping all day. Even when you wear gloves every single time, that penetrating smell will just stay with you.

After a long day at the clinic, I can finally call it a day. Of course, I’m on call tonight, but other than that, I can relax now. Working as a vet has always been a dream of mine and now, at the ripe age of twenty nine, I have managed to become doctor Olivia Tran, one of the loved veterinarians here.

‘See you tomorrow, Belle,’ I yell to my best friend and other veterinarian at this clinic.

‘You on call tonight?’ Belle asks.

‘I am.’

‘If you need to go, I can’t watch Vanessa tonight,’ she tells me, while she is checking the ears of a pug, who seems to have severe breathing problems from the looks of it. ‘I have a date.’

‘No worries,’ I say to her with a smile. ‘I probably don’t need to go anyways. Hasn’t happened in the past months, so I highly doubt that something will change tonight. Please let me know how your date went tomorrow.’

Belle, the gorgeous brunette with legs for days and blue eyes as big as Rapunzel, flashes me a bright smile. ‘Of course, dear. Give Vanessa a big kiss for me, will you?’

‘Will do.’ I walk out of the clinic, give a sweet Jack Russell a scratch behind his ear and check my watch. I have twenty minutes before I have to pick up Vanessa, but it’s a fifteen minute walk if I hurry and if I just stroll around, it’s twenty minutes. Can I manage to buy myself some cookies or should I wait after I picked her up?

I think I would have a very happy six year old if I waited with the cookies after I picked her up from school.

I bury my hands in the pockets of my coat. Yesterday it was official: the summer has passed and autumn is here. I always love it when I see the green leaves slowly turning orange or brown and cover the pavement with a blanket of crunchy leaves. It’s Vanessa’s favorite season as well, but that’s mostly because it’s her birthday on November 12th.

I never planned on becoming a mother at twenty three. I never really gave it a big thought, the idea of having kids. In the far far far future I might’ve become one, but I always thought I had more cool aunt potential.

The day I found out I was pregnant, I was scared, but since I was in a pretty serious relationship with Wesley for almost three years, the man I thought I’d end up marrying, I figured we would make this work. We would marry, have this kid and live happily ever after, maybe even have a few more.

But Wesley broke up with me when I told him about the pregnancy and that I was going to keep the baby. I went to my parents for comfort, thinking that they and my two brothers would be supportive of this. We got through the time that I was partying all night, getting tattoos and smoked some weed out of my window. I mean, we would be able to handle this right?

But my parents kicked me out when I told them I was pregnant and I was going to keep the baby. ‘But what about your degree?’ I can still hear my mother say those words, but what was maybe the worst thing, was seeing my brothers turning their backs to me. Their literal backs towards me. ‘You worked so hard and you just got a job as a vet,’ my mom began to yell.

To be fair, I was their only hope. My brothers dropped out of high school and are now sort of working in construction, but they can hardly finish a job ever. My mother never worked a day in her life and my father was a lawyer. I told them that I could work something out, with a bit of help of them, but my mother just pushed me out of their house and told me to never bother them again, if I was going to have a kid out of wedlock.

So I had to do it by myself. I had to find a place for me and the baby to stay, but thankfully Belle was already working at the vet and decided that I needed a bit of help. I could stay with her, even after the baby was born. Belle went with me to the ultrasounds and when I went into labor, she was right there with me.

Belle is Vanessa’s one and only aunt and my best friend. When you get pregnant and not only your boyfriend leaves, your family disappears out of your life, you also notice how many people despise you. My friends from college all of the sudden seemed to have fallen off the earth and never checked in with me.

Now I have a happy six year old, a nice home for the two of us and a baby sitter Belle, who is becoming less and less available, since she has discovered the world of Tinder, because she wants a boyfriend.

I hear the bell ring when I step onto the schoolyard. It doesn’t take long before I see my daughter running towards me. Her baby blue coat is hanging open, her backpack in her hand and a rolled paper in the other. She insisted on wearing her boots to school today, but leave it to her to cover them in mud.

Entirely.

I catch her when she jumps in my arms. ‘I missed you, my lovely lady,’ I say to her.

Vanessa peppers my face with kisses, something she always does when I pick her up from school. I brush the hairs out of her face, including the sweet bangs that she insisted on having. Originally she wanted the same haircut as me from when I was the same age as her, but since I have severe traumas of the bowl cut, I had to spare her that and opt for some sweet thin bangs.

‘Mommy,’ she says, ‘I missed you a lot.’

‘Well, you want to go to the store, so we can buy some cookies?’ I ask her. ‘And maybe tonight we can order a pizza.’

‘Yes, yes, yes!’ She gives me a tight hug.

Sometimes I doubt my parenting skills, especially when I look around the schoolyard. I watch those mothers who are housewives, with very handsome husbands and kids that always look formidable and put together and probably only eat fatty snacks on their birthdays. Sometimes I wished I had that: a husband, a man that Vanessa could look up to.

I figured that when my ex Wesley couldn’t provide that, my brothers and father would step in and treat my daughter like they treated me: a princess.

Now I have to do that myself.

It can be tiring, being both the mother and the father for Vanessa, but if I could turn back time, I’d do it all over again.

With Vanessa’s tiny hand in mine, we walk towards the store, to buy some cookies that I desperately craved the entire day I was at work.

Vanessa looks a lot like me. She’s basically my clone. People often stop us, simply to tell us that Vanessa is like a miniature version of me. I always like compliments about my daughter. I mean, she is my world.

When we arrive at home, I help her change into something more comfy. ‘Mommy, can we please have a pajama night?’ Vanessa asks, while I help her out of her dress.

‘It’s four in the afternoon,’ I say, knowing exactly what she wants. ‘You want to wait two hours before you wear your pajamas?’

Vanessa shakes her head. ‘No, I want to wear my pjs now.’ Her bright smile nearly lights up the room. I watch her nose scrunch up as the corners of her mouth curl up, the only trait that she inherited from her biological father. ‘Are you going to wear yours too?’

I don’t have anywhere to go and besides, after all popping all those anal glands today, I desperately want to get out of these clothes. ‘Yes, sweetie, I’m going to wear mine too, but first I’m going to take a shower.’

‘No bath, mommy? Because I like baths.’ Her dark brown eyes start to gleam with enthusiasm. ‘Please, mommy, please.’ She pouts, knowing damn well I can’t say no to that.

≫≫≪≪

The second Vanessa is in bed, I have some time for myself. I love every second we get to spend together, but it’s nice to have a breather every now and then. I stare at my arms, to see how Vanessa has colored in my tattoos. She’s obsessed with them and when she’s in school, she sometimes tries to draw them on her own arms by memory, sometimes even drawing on others when they want to. A few weeks ago, her teacher asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up. ‘Well, I want to be two things,’ Vanessa told her. ‘Like my mommy I want to be a vet, because I love animals, but I also want to draw tattoos on people.’

I sit up straight, looking at the drawing she made me today in school. She always makes drawings for me, but they are always the same. She draws a house, with me in it and herself. And outside she draws a dog and a man, with suitcases and moving boxes next to them. ‘Because,’ she explains every single time, ‘one day you meet a nice man who has a dog and he can become my new daddy. A daddy that does want me.’

Belle didn’t agree on me telling Vanessa her real dad didn’t want her, but I figured she needed to know the truth. Her biological father is a low life that disappeared into thin air and didn’t want to be involved in her life.

Vanessa understood, to the extent that was possible, but she really wants a dad, preferably one with a dog. Though she keeps pushing me, I can’t start dating again. Vanessa is the most important person in the world and men simply don’t fit into this—in my head—perfect picture. Vanessa is my life and men are big fat losers, so I don’t need them. I don’t want them, because the chance of them getting tired of maybe me, maybe Vanessa and leaving, is something I can’t risk.

Vanessa already lost her real father, what if a man that becomes really important to her, leaves too?

At around eleven I drag myself to bed, placing my work phone beside me. I hate being on call, but like I told Belle, I didn’t have a call in months, so I think I’m good.

I’m dreaming about Keanu Reeves (the only man on earth that I’d break my no man ban for) and how he takes me out on a lovely date, has Vanessa on his lap and helps her to cut her food, when the phone starts to ring.

‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ I mutter, before I click on my nightlight. It’s three in the fucking morning. I don’t want this. ‘Animal Clinic Westside, doctor Olivia Tran, how may I help you?’ I say when I pick up the phone.

‘Hello, I’m terribly sorry for calling at this hour, but my dog is vomiting and I see some blood in it.’ Oh, poor man, he sounds so panicked. ‘He collapsed and is breathing really heavily and I don’t know what to do.’

I sit up straight in bed and rub my eyes, as I try to be as alert as I can on this early morning. ‘Sir, it’s okay. Did your dog eat anything out of the ordinary today?’

‘Not that I know of.’

‘You think it’s possible for you to come to the clinic? I’d like to see the dog.’

‘Of course, of course.’ The man on the other side of the line has such a lovely and deep voice. He could become a voice actor or a narrator like Morgan Freeman. If liquid gold had a voice, it would sound like this.

‘I hope it’s not too much to ask, but could you take some of the vomit with you? Especially the part with some blood. I’d like to check it.’

‘I’ll bring it with me, of course.’

‘What kind of breed is your dog, sir?’ I ask, while writing it all down on a piece of paper.

‘An American Akita. His name is Kal.’

I don’t think he ever went to our clinic, I think to myself.

‘I’ll be at the clinic in about forty minutes, mister…’ I say, hoping that this man will say his name.

‘Cavill,’ he quickly says. ‘And I can be at the clinic in about an hour.’

That name does sound kind of familiar though, but I could’ve sworn that this man isn’t in our database. Maybe I went to college with him or to high school?

After we hang up the phone, I quickly get out of bed. I opt for a pair of tight fitted black leggings and an oversized sweater (after I put on a bra, because who knows mister Cavill is handsome and my nipples don’t want to keep that a secret) and I slip on some white sneakers. I put my hair into a bun. I freeze when I’m moisturizing my face.

I kind of forgot I had a daughter. I don’t like the idea of bringing Vanessa with me, especially since it’s three in the morning and she’s asleep, but then I realize that tomorrow it’s Saturday. Plenty of time for her to catch up on her sleep and plenty of time for me to feel less guilty about dragging her out of her dreams.

‘Sweetie,’ I whisper, when I gently wake her up. ‘Mommy has to go to the clinic, but you can’t stay at aunt Belle tonight, so you’re going with me to work.’

Vanessa was a groggy mess when I nudged her awake, but when she realizes she can go with me to work, her eyes light up. ‘Really?’

‘Yes, someone has a sick doggy, that needs to be taken care of.’

She gets up out of her bed and I help her with her socks, though she is perfectly capable of doing so herself. ‘You’re gonna save a doggy?’ Vanessa asks.

‘I’m going to try.’

I hand her a thick vest and while she puts it on, she says: ‘You’re a hero, mommy.’

With a smile on my face, I softly pinch her cheek. ‘I guess I am.’

Taglist: @thelastsock // @flhorah // @sausagefest1996 // @laufeysodinson // @xxxkatxo // @memoriesat30 // @henrythickcavill // @crimsonrae // @henryobsessed // @madbaddic7ed // @summersong69

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #mister cavill your dog is kinda fat #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x Olivia Tran

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thatgirlsnotrightinthebrain · 3 years

Note

Feedee asks:

40,45

Anon, this is going to be a very long answer. I have tried answering this ask for you two times prior, and both times I made the mistake of doing it in my phone browser where my fingers have brushed my screen just so so that the page refreshed and deleted the entirety of my amazing answer I have learned from my mistakes, and I am writing my response in a note to copy/paste when I’m done.

40. Cutest feederism fantasy?

I like to think that I’m pretty easy to please. When it comes down to it, all I want is someone who loves me despite my weight, someone who tells me I’m pretty on a regular basis, and if they want to occasionally coax me into eating a family size package of Oreos, I wouldn’t complain. I’m not sure if the following is my “cutest” feederism fantasy, or even if I would want anything like it to happen in real life, but it is a fantasy I had when originally answering this question. Maybe with this being the third time I’m typing it out, it will stick.

——————————————————————

After a month or two of dating, when I start to know whether I like him or not, the guy I’m seeing invites me over to his place for the day to just hang out on his bed or sofa- watching Tv, movies, playing video games. Relaxed. Easy. When I arrive, he has an array of snacks ready for the day. He lays out a huge bowl of plain Ruffles between us. Since it’s still relatively early in our relationship, I graze, intent on only eating one serving of the chips. I don’t want to go crazy. He glances over at me every so often, between scenes of whatever is on the screen in front of us, and sees that I’m enjoying the chips, but that I only took a little bit. “You can have some more you know. I don’t really like those anyway... I prefer the sour cream and onion Lays, but I know you like Ruffles. Besides, you said you didn’t eat before coming over. Please have some more.” I contemplate. If I eat the rest of these chips in this bowl, I won’t have to eat again until later. So I finish the bowl, and the next snack comes out - chocolate chip mini muffins. I take one and he looks out the corner of his eye. “I really should have put these out first, huh?” He chuckles. “They’re more in line with breakfast. I know they’re your favorite, I couldn’t find any mixed packs with corn muffins in them too, so eat up! It’s okay. I’m not that hungry.” So I end up eating all 12 mini muffins. This pattern of him not liking any of these snacks he bought (all my problematic faves) and knowing that I’m hungry, convincing me it’s okay to eat continues. I steadily eat my way through a family size bag of Crunchy Cheetos, a package of Double Dark Chocolate Milanos, a box of cheese-flavored Ritz Bits, a box of Entemann’s Chocolate covered donuts. Eventually he orders some actual food - some bacon cheeseburgers and a carnival sized bucket of fries (he knows they’re my absolute favorite actual non-snack food) and a two liter of Coca-Cola. Everything is so delicious, I just keep eating. Eventually he lays down on his side next to me, stuffed, with my hands cradling my belly. He presents dessert - Chocolate Chip Cookies, a family-sized package of Oreos, and a tall glass of milk. He knows they’re my favorite sweets, that I won’t be able to resist them. After he gently dips each cookie in the glass of milk, he brings cookie after cookie to my mouth while he caresses my tummy, kisses me all over, tells me I’m pretty, that I’m such a good eater. I’m so full, but it just tastes so good, he’s so handsome I can’t say no to that face, I don’t want to. I eat cookie after cookie until they’re all gone. He sees the guilty look on my face. “It’s alright. It’s not like you eat like this all the time. It’s a one time thing... You were hungry, so you ate. It’s okay to indulge and enjoy food every once in a while. There’s nothing to feel guilty about.” The longer we go out, the more frequent days like this become - Once every few months becomes once a month, becomes once a week, becomes three times a week, becomes everyday once we move in together.

Two years later, when he proposes, I have ballooned. I am the heaviest I’ve ever been. The outfit I wore on our first date has not fit in a long while. Since I don’t want to look like a blimp in my white dress for the wedding, I decide to lose weight. He doesn’t argue, he respects my wishes. I try eating salads, but I cover them in cheese and fried chicken. When I decide to exercise, I’m pouring sweat and am out of breath in seconds. I can’t even lift my weight to do one push up on my knees. He assures me I’m beautiful the way I am and I don’t need to lose weight. “We can eat healthier and you’ll slim down.” He knows full well I’m too accustomed to eating junk, that I’ll just try and sneak the junk when he’s not around. And he’s right. Drive throughs are a must for breakfast, lunch, and dinner on weekdays when I work. I grab junk when shopping for healthy groceries on the weekend and eat it all in the car so he’s none the wiser. Except he knows and says nothing. He lets me indulge.

By the time we get married, I’m absolutely huge and I waddle down the aisle, footsteps heavy. There’s a rumor going around among our guests that I needed to reorder my dress three days ago two sizes larger than the one I put in to be altered a month ago. (It’s true.) I look like an enormous cupcake. The guests all whisper about how I blew up and became a beached whale behind my back, but they are nothing but kind to my face. My husband thought ahead - he knows I won’t eat much at the wedding because I feel guilty about my size, so he orders two cakes - one for our 200 guests, and one the same size for our wedding night. Since I’m far too fat to be lifted through the doorway, I waddle to the bedroom where he unzips my dress and I wiggle out of it, all of me continuing to jiggle after it’s off. He makes sure I lay down comfortably on the bed, bedsprings groaning under my weight. He proceeds to cut the second wedding cake into neat slices. Like that first day he invited me to his place, he lays on his side next to me, nothing but admiration visible on his face as he feeds slice after slice of cake into my round moon face. He lovingly rubs my belly and caresses me with kisses all over my body. “You’re absolutely stunning, Mrs. ([insert his last name here.] I love you.” When things get frisky, the bed frame collapses under (mostly) my weight. “It’s alright gorgeous. We’ll get a new one tomorrow. I intend to help you be comfortable with food, your body, and to help you indulge for the rest of forever.”

——————————————————————

45. Favorite chubby pet name?

Honestly, I don’t know if I would like being called any of them. I may be okay with “Piggy” since my parents used to call me one when they thought I ate too much. Maybe “Fatty” or “Fatass” but only in the context of teasing me about how chubby I am and making it clear how much you like it.

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particularemu · 4 years

Text

Brokenhearted | A Lee Minho/Lee Know Scenario

Word Count: 1531

Type: Like 90% Fluff and 10% Angst

Warnings: heartbreak, unreciprocated feelings

Prompts: 8 (Forget it. You fucking suck.)

Author’s Note: Sorry this took me like 4 months to finally complete. I had a bitch of a time writing this one for some reason.

I’m not taking requests from this list anymore, but the prompt is from this prompt list.

Being in love with your best friend is pure torture.

Being in love with your best friend when you’ve already confessed? EVEN WORSE.

You sighed as you piled a handful of popcorn into your mouth, wide eyes fixed on a cheesy rom-com as you munched on the popped kernels. Minho always made fun of you for watching such pointless movies, but you didn’t care. There was something relaxing about watching two teenagers fall in love despite all the pointless drama surrounding them. You loved movies that had a happy ending.

If only you were so lucky…

Oh, how you wished your confession ended in a prom date, a first kiss, and a lasting relationship… Now you just lived through twenty-something year old actresses, imagining you and Minho as the main leads.

The memory of your confession was fresh in your mind as if it happened yesterday. You were a bright-eyed second-year in high school, hoping to confess to your long-time crush, Lee Minho. The boy was smart, good-looking, talented, and he had a great personality. The two of you weren’t that great of friends, but he hung around your friend group often. Often enough for you to fall head-over-heels for him. The two of you always seemed to click when he hung around your friend group.

Eventually your feelings became too much to handle and you, thanks to the help of your best friend, decided to confess to him. Nothing was going to happen between you two if you didn’t tell him how you felt! Besides… you two got along really well. That means he’s going to say yes right?

Oh, how wrong you were…

You headed up to Minho, note in hand and poured your heart out to him, hoping — praying that he would feel the same way. Minho crushed your heart with eight simple words.

“I’m sorry. I don’t feel the same way.”

You were absolutely heartbroken.

A few days later, Minho happened to see you sitting by yourself at lunch. Instead of sitting next to his buddies from dance class, he decided to keep you company. Minho sat his lunch tray across from yours and took a seat, bright eyes watching you as you finished extra homework.

“Why are you here?” You didn’t want to sound like a bitch, but you were still pretty angsty after having your crush snap your heart into a million pieces. Not that he intended to…

“You’re alone.” Minho shrugged as if it was no big deal. “Everyone should have a little company.” The boy chuckled and took a bite of his lunch, eyes fixed on the frantic scratching of your pencil.

“Isn’t it weird for you?” If it wasn’t weird for him, it sure was for you. You couldn’t help but imagine him sitting next to you every day during lunch, talking about his day, watching him during dance competitions, kissing those plump lips…

Okay, you were letting your mind wander again.

Minho tilted his head in confusion. “Why would it be weird?”

It was really weird.

Despite the awkward conversation the two of you shared, you still enjoyed seeing his face. Even if you weren’t dating him, you were happy that he still considered you a friend.

And friends you were!

Over the next few years, Minho became your partner in crime. The two of you were best friends, attached at the hip. You were never away from each other. Unfortunately, your feelings for him never faded. In fact, they got stronger the closer you got with the boy.

Even five years later.

Minho barged through the door and tossed his jacket on the end of your couch. “Are you really watching this garbage again?” He chuckled. “You’ve seen it five-thousand times already.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the boy. “No please, let yourself in.” Perhaps giving your best friend a spare key to your apartment was a bad idea... “I come bearing gifts.” Minho chuckled and tossed a candy bar in your direction. “Think fast.”

You beamed at the chocolate bar as you hopped off the couch, throwing your arms around him. “How’d you know I wanted one of these?” You squeezed Minho as hard as you could, making the boy groan.

“Too tight.” Minho dramatically fell to the ground, sending the two of you into a fit of giggles.

“God, you’re so dramatic.” You held your hand out to the boy, smiling when his hand rested in yours. God, you wished…

“You always want candy.” Minho chuckled. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

“Yeah?” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Why are you here then?” As if you don’t enjoy his company.

“I’m here to ask about that boy you were talking to.” Minho wiggled his eyebrows as he opened his own candy bar, taking a giant bite from the crunchy chocolate. “The one you have a big fat crush on.”

Ouch that hurt. Why did that hurt?

“I don’t have a crush on anyone.” You mumbled, taking a bite of your chocolate bar, hoping a mouth full of chocolate would keep Minho from asking more questions.

Minho rolled his eyes. “Yes you do. What’s his name… Chan? I think his name is Chan.” Minho snickered. “Come on, quit playing games. You can tell me anything.”

Could you? Of course you knew that you could trust Minho, but you felt like telling your best friend of five years that you never stopped loving him wasn’t the best idea. What if things didn’t go well? Instead of sticking around this time, he might just leave you…

You couldn’t stand the thought of losing your best friend, but what if… What if you had the chance to be happy with him? Maybe it was time…

“Can we talk?” Your voice was small, fear taking over your usual confidence. “We need to talk.”

Minho chuckled. “Talk about what? Your new boyfriend?”

His words hit harder than they should have. Minho was just teasing you, like he always does and yet you took offense this time. Why couldn’t he see that you loved him?

“You know what? Forget it. You fucking suck.” You rolled your eyes at the boy and stormed off to your bedroom, slamming the door behind you.

Minho tilted his head to the side in confusion as he followed after you. He was beyond confused. You’ve never been this pissed off at his antics. Usually you would laugh along and tell him he was an ass when he got out of line. What happened this time?

Minho knocked on the door, “Hey, I’m sorry. I’ll listen to you this time.” His brows creased when he heard you quietly crying on the other side of the door.

Fuck…

He didn’t realize he hurt your feelings this bad. “Hey, I’m coming in.” Minho slowly opened the door to see you curled up in your bed, hugging the fuzzy blanket he got you for your birthday to your chest as you cried. “Aww, sweetheart.” Minho rushed to your side and rested his hand on your arm. “I was just playing.”

“You’re so fucking dense.” You snapped at Minho, wiping your tears as you brushed his hand off you. “I can’t love anyone else because I still love you.” You scooted away from Minho, trying to distance yourself from the boy as if it would protect you from his response. You’ve done this before, and now you’re about to repeat history. You knew there was no possibility with him and yet, you couldn’t avoid falling in love with him. You looked over to see Minho frozen in place. You couldn’t bear to hear another rejection. “Can you please leave?”

Minho’s eyes widened even more if that was possible. “No.”

“Minho please just go.” You whined as you turned your back to him.

“No.” Minho responded. “I can’t leave you like this.”

“Fucking go.” You used all your strength and pushed on Minho’s chest, knocking the boy off the bed. “I can’t do this again please just go.”

Minho quickly rushed to your side, taking your hands in his. “Listen to me. These past few years have been the best years of my life.” Minho smiled sadly. “I know I told you I didn’t feel the same way, but sweetheart that was five years ago.” Minho chuckled. “We’re old now babydoll. We’ve grown up.”

You sniffled and pulled one of your hands away from his to wipe your tears. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Minho snorted. “I’m trying to be romantic.”

“Just tell me how you feel.” You sighed and tightened your grip around his hands. “Please just tell me.”

Minho smiled. “I started to fall for you the more we hung out, but I didn’t want to hurt you by digging up old memories. I wasn’t sure if you liked me anymore.” He paused. “Damn, I wouldn’t have liked me. I was a dick.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “No you weren’t. You were sweet.”

“I was an ass. I rejected you and then —”

You silenced Minho with a kiss. Finally, after all these years, you finally got to kiss the man of your dreams. You finally got to feel his lips against yours, and it was pure bliss. You leaned forward, smiling into the kiss as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Wow.” Minho chuckled. “How long have you wanted to do that?”

“5 years.” You kissed him again. “You still fucking suck, but I love you.”

Minho smiled brightly as he laughed. “That’s fair. I love you too, you dork.”

Tags: @jisungsjheekies @channiesmixtape (my tag list smol lmao. I can’t remember if I had one before I left aj;sdlkfj;asldkfj)

#lee minho imagines #lee know #lee minho #lee know scenarios #lee minho scenarios #lee know fluff #lee minho fluff #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know x you #lee minho x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #fluff #kpop fluff #my writing

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chris-evans-indian-fanfic · 4 years

Text

Finger Painting

One shot

This is for one of my most favourite writer's challenge! My one-shot entry for @jtargaryen18 writing challenge for her and Chris Evans' birthday month 😄

Description - It's been a month since the reader (Y/N) and Chris Evans have started dating. As the reader is plump around the stomach and the hips, she feels awkward having sex with Chris and so, has been putting it off. But what happens when Chris walks in on her "finger painting"?

Warning - Female masturbation, mentions of porn

Only 18+ proceed!

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

Moodboard is by the wonderful @donutloverxo ! Show her some love people 🥰

1 month, 4 days, 2 hours and 26 minutes ago, your dreams had come true. You had started dating Chris Evans! The two of you had met at an axe-throwing club, where you worked. Chris had failed to hit the axe on the wooden board, multiple times. After his first few futile attempts, his group of friends had started teasing him relentlessly, which had further made him anxious.

You had seen him fidgeting with his hands, his breaths shallow as he kept running his hands through his hair. You recognised the signs of anxiety when you saw them, being a victim of anxiety bouts yourself. That's enough, you had decided and taken it upon yourself to share some tips. Chris had followed your instructions and hit his mark, successfully silencing his friends.

After then, he had visited the club almost every week for 5 months. He often offered to buy you a cup of coffee "in exchange for sharing your wise axe-throwing wisdom" he had put it. Putting your anxiety at bay, you had finally given in.

You smiled remembering the coffee-date. It was a simple under $20 date but it had been full of priceless, magical moments. The warm coffee in your hands, soft and crunchy chocolate chip cookies, slow walk under the gorgeous yellow and orange autumn trees, and a lifetime worth of conversations to keep you both company.

After a few more of such simple dates, Chris had officially asked you to be his girlfriend. Still high from the magical date, you had agreed without a second thought.

What you didn't realise was that while dating Chris was a dream come true, it was also as if one of your worst nightmares had come alive.

You found yourself constantly wondering how can someone like him date someone like you?! While you were sure Chris was sculpted by Michelangelo himself, on the other hand, you knew that you were the inspiration for the Michelin tire mascot. And so, even after dating him for 1 month, 4 days, 2 hours and 45 minutes, you still couldn't muster the strength to get physical with him.

While Chris hadn't made any moves to get intimate with you, you knew time would come wherein you would have to either talk to him about it, or get naked in front of him. You didn't like either of those prospects.

Sighing, you laid down on your bed, feeling down after a long day at work. You needed to make yourself feel good. You needed a release.

As you prepared for your bath, you heard your mobile ring. "Hey baby," Chris' voice sounded cheerful on the other end of the call, "wanna watch a movie tonight?"

"Hey Chris, I am too tired. I think I will just go to bed."

"Awww. Are you going to sleep already? Did you eat?" he inquired.

"I was actually about to take a bath, then eat," you replied.

"You sound so stressed baby. Why don't you do some finger painting? I am sure that will make you feel better," Chris suggested.

You have no idea, you thought. "Yeah that's a good suggestion. I will do that."

"You should. I bet they are masterpieces," he said, subtly expressing his desire to view her finger paintings, again.

"Hehe yeah," you laughed awkwardly, "I got to go now. Will take to you tomorrow, 'kay?" you said, eager to cut the call.

"Mmm okay. Take care of yourself baby," said Chris.

Chris found it weird that you had never shown him any of your paintings. Plus, you also avoided the question or were quick to change the topic. With curiosity getting better of him, he decided to head for your place, picking up wine, flowers and chocolates along the way.

After the long bath, you laid on the bed. Legs parted, your left hand immediately went to your bare sex, foregoing all the formality with your breasts. Your right hand browsed through Chris' video interviews on your mobile phone. While porn had worked well for you earlier, it just wasn't good enough anymore. You didn't find those naked, muscular men attractive now.

Selecting your favourite video interview of Chris, you played it on your speaker. His deep and strong voice blared on the loudest volume, while his bearded face, and a tight tshirt hugging his muscles filled your smartphone screen. You were already getting wet, your fingers easily diving through your folds. Time to do some finger painting.

When Chris reached your apartment, he heard a muffled male voice through the door. He tried the broken doorbell and when you didn't answer his knocks, he used the spare key hidden under the welcome mat to enter.

At first, he was surprised to hear a male voice talking on the speaker. He thought maybe you were listening to a podcast. But there was something familiar about the voice...

After a moment, realisation struck! You were watching his interview! Aaawww which meant you were missing him. Good thing he came down to pamper you.

Wishing to surprise you, he sneaked around the living room and entered the kitchen, only to find it empty. Then he heard a small moan from your bedroom. He carefully entered through the ajar door and found one of the most sexiest sights in front of him.

You were sprawled on the bed, your back arched just the tiniest bit as you rapidly thrusted 2 fingers inside of you, with your other hand fondling your bundle of nerves. He raised his eyebrows and smirked, finally understanding the meaning behind finger painting.

He slowly started rubbing his growing erection as you neared your release. You ended your ministrations with an exclamation, your body hitting the mattress as relaxation flooded through you. A peaceful smile crept up on your face, as you felt your release seeping between your thighs.

You screamed with shock as 200 pounds of drop-dead-gorgeous landed on top of you. 2 twinkling eyes, filled with lust and a cocky smirk flashed above you. "Honey, if this is what you call finger painting, then I would love to dip my brush in your paints," Chris said right before he captured your lips with his.

That was it. All it took was a hungry, sexual and passionate kiss to drive away all of your doubts, your anxiety.

You almost laughed at the speed with which Chris disposed off his clothes, his hard and unyielding body merging together with your soft, plump frame, eliminating all the distance between you two.

#30DaysOfChris2020 #chris evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chrisevans #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans x plus size reader #chris evans x reader #Chris Evans x overweight reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #smut #chris evans smut #30 days of Chris 2020 #chris evans imagines #chris evans interview #chris evans imagine

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years

Text

A new us will begin (11/ ?)

word count: ~7k

AO3

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 12

content warnings: panic attack, references past major character death, major character death, blood, injury

“Geralt.”

The whisper that broke through Geralt’s half-asleep mind was so full of urgency, that Geralt’s eyes snapped open in a flash.

“Dandy?” He asked into the darkness, only relaxing when he realised that Dandy was still nestled in his arms, the same way they had fallen asleep. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

“No.” When Geralt’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he could see the soft smile on Dandy’s face. “I just had to wake you.”

Before Geralt could ask, Dandy leaned up and pressed a kiss against his throat, the fist patch of skin he could find. “For the first time you said my name in your sleep.”

Dandy twirled the dandelion Geralt had plucked for him in his fingers, an amused smile on his face.

“It’s always the yellow flowers, huh?” He teased, bumping his shoulder against Geralt, who was sitting next to him on the grass a little away from the other actors that were preparing lunch or going over their lines again. “I take it buttercups and yarrows are yellow too?”

Geralt hummed in agreement and leaned his head against Dandy’s shoulder, his hand coming up to play with Dandy’s curls.

“Dandy?” Geralt said, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice. “That dandelion you have isn’t yellow anymore. It’s white.”

“Seriously?” Dandy scowled as if the flower had personally offended him. “That’s just ridiculous. Why would flowers change colours?”

“Why do you change your hats?”

Dandy gasped in indignation. “Don’t you dare bring my hats into this. I have been told they are very stylish. And they are important to me.”

Geralt’s lips twitched. “If it’s any consolation, there aren’t many flowers that change like that.” He turned his head to place a kiss against Dandy’s neck.

“So this one just wants to be special then?”

“I think it is.” Geralt was sure Dandy could hear his smile in his voice. “You are special to me, my Dandelion.”

Dandy nudged him again. “Look at you sweet-talking. One of these days you’re going to become an actor after all.”

“Wasn’t acting,” Geralt mumbled against Dandy’s skin. “I meant it.”

“Geralt?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.” Dandy pressed a kiss onto the top of his head and let out a mock-exasperated huff. “You know, if I didn’t love being able to just kiss you whenever I want now, I would have said it’s a shame that you already told me that you love me too.”

Geralt grunted quizzically.

“I’m just saying, I could have used this dandelion to wish for you to love me. That would have been a good wish.”

“What are you going to wish for instead?”

“I’m not telling. Wishes don’t work when you say them out loud.”

With that, Dandy took a deep breath and blew the dandelion seeds off into the wind. Some of them got caught in Dandy’s hair and Geralt brushed them off.

It wasn’t until he saw them drifting off with the breeze, that he remembered a different dandelion, lifetimes ago.

He sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes snapping from the now barren dandelion in Dandy’s hand to his face. It couldn’t have been that simple…could it?

A dandelion flying off while Geralt begged Jaskier to open his eyes and look at him again... Could a simple wish have done this? Geralt had made too many wishes in his lifetime and only the twisted ones had come true, even if just for a short time, always hurting Jaskier in the process.

Why would a witcher be granted this? Why, after having set a Djinn on Jaskier, after wishing for Destiny to take him off his hands, why would Geralt be given this second chance, being trusted with Jaskier’s life again?

A lifetime of pain and misery, of learning that nothing came easy in life but death and heartbreak, had taught Geralt that this couldn’t be, that it was too simple. And yet, Dandy leaned his head against Geralt’s, having so easily accepted the truth and still being by Geralt’s side, as if it really could be that simple.

Perhaps, it wasn’t all that impossible.

It took Geralt embarrassingly long, before he finally asked why the hats were so important to Dandy. If he was being honest, he had never put much thought into why he was wearing them so often. The only times he had actively thought about them was when they were big enough to nearly shield Dandy’s face from view fully.

As it turned out, that was exactly their intended reason.

“While I have been told that I have the most gorgeous face –“ Dandy began in a teasing and over the top tone, but Geralt let out a hum of sincere agreement that made a smile flicker across Dandy’s face.

“Geralt! Don’t interrupt me by being all sweet,” he chided and swatted in Geralt’s general direction. “I’m trying to tell you something important.”

Geralt hummed again, this time encouraging Dandy to keep talking.

“It’s just that sometimes it’s a bit hard to keep making facial expressions. I mean, I learned them all when I started acting. I can give appropriate reactions with my face and I love doing it, but sometimes it can be really exhausting. Of course some things come just natural, but there are some expressions that I have to put effort in. I can’t just mimic what other people do, I always have to remember what my face needs to do and … I don’t know. It’s hard sometimes. With the hats I can hope that I can hide my face enough to not react falsely or do it to a lesser extend without appearing rude.”

“You don’t have to do that around me,” Geralt said. He reached up until his hand came to rest against the brim of the hat. He hesitated, waited until Dandy gave a small nod, before pulling the hat off, brushing his knuckles softly against Dandy’s cheek as he did so. “I don’t mind. I just want you to be comfortable. You have the most beautiful smile, but I don’t want it, if it’s exhausting for you.”

“I – thank you, Geralt.”

“You have nothing to thank me for.” Geralt’s lips twitched. “I guess I never told you, but I don’t change my expressions much either. At least not in a way that people notice.”

Images of the eyes Yarrow had painted flashed through his mind, the miniscule details only noticeable for those who had known Geralt for a long, long time.

“Oh?” Dandy perked up. “What expression do you have on your face most of the time then? Are you looking at me with dreamlike adoration? Are you smirking like you’re mentally insulting everyone around you all the time? Are you staring forlorn into the distance, being all dramatic?”

Geralt snorted.

“You’re ridiculous,” he said. “You - Jaskier used to call it my ‘scary face’.”

Dandy barked out a laugh. “Oh no, my dear. As much as it pains me to say this, but Jaskier was an idiot. I’m sorry to tell you, but if I ever said this, I was dead wrong. There’s no way you could ever be scary, even if you tried.”

In that moment, Dandy’s description of Geralt looking at him in dreamlike adoration was closer than Geralt would ever admit.

“Dandy?”

“Hmm?”

“You don’t remember your past lives, do you? You don’t remember exactly who you used to be?”

“No.”

“But you still trust me.”

“Of course I do.”

“It’s not just dandelions.” Geralt scowled up at the trees that forced him to remember the passing of time. “Leaves turn brown in autumn.”

Dandy brushed a leaf that had fallen onto his head away and crushed it between his fingers, lips twitching up at the sound. “I like how crunchy they get.”

Geralt smiled and watched Dandy shuffle through a pile of leaves, all the while grinning like a child and telling Geralt to come join him.

Geralt didn’t have the heart to tell Dandy that he hated the fall. It meant that winter would come far too soon.

“You should go,” Dandy told him, for what felt like the tenth time that day.

“I want to stay.”

Dandy sighed and rolled over in bed, so that his back wouldn’t be pressed against Geralt’s chest anymore, but he’d be able to embrace him instead.

“I know. And I want you to stay.” He placed a kiss against Geralt’s chest. “But you should go see your family. They must be worried about you. You have to show them that you are still alive and not still torturing yourself over things you can’t control.”

“What about your family?” Geralt countered. “The troupe, I mean. Won’t the winter be hard for you without protection?”

Dandy buried his face into the crook of Geralt’s neck. “Of course it will. But we’ll be fine. It’s possible that I exaggerated a little when I told you how dangerous the roads are for us.”

Geralt’s brows drew together. “You didn’t. I fought the skullwarg, remember?”

Dandy hummed, a pained little noise. “You wouldn’t have had to do that if you had been safe in your witchers’ keep.”

“I told you I’d get hurt again for you.”

“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is.”

Geralt’s hand came up to play with Dandy’s hair, brushing it out of his lover’s forehead and pressing a kiss against the crown of his head.

“I can’t leave you,” he said, half muffled against Dandy’s hair. “I can’t risk you getting hurt while I’m away.”

“Nothing is going to happen.”

“You can’t promise that.”

Dandy sighed. “Of course I can. If it makes you feel any better, I can write my parents and ask them if we could stay with them for the winter. It will be a bit awkward performing for them, but they would definitely let us stay and perform until we wanted to leave.” Dandy snuggled even closer. “And when spring comes, we’ll be right there waiting for you to join us again.”

Geralt let out a long breath. It was the perfect solution. They would both get to spend the winter with their respective families and Dandy and the troupe wouldn’t have to worry about the cold or being short on supplies. And yet…

“I still don’t like it.”

“I know. But promise me you’ll think about it.”

Geralt had never been good at saying goodbye. It had taken him years to allow Jaskier to hug him when they split for winter. More often than not, the idea that someone liked Geralt enough to care if he just disappeared without goodbye, hadn’t even occurred to him. Until Jaskier had made it abundantly clear that he very much cared.

Still, there was a difference between hugging one bard goodbye and saying goodbye to a whole group of affectionate players.

Thankfully, most of them were satisfied with just nodding or waving at Geralt. Mika and Kara clapped him on the shoulder and Nadine pulled him into a tight embrace, telling him sternly to take care of himself.

Dandy, of course, embraced him too, much warmer and long enough that Geralt began to suspect he would stay like this for the rest of the day if no one intervened. So Geralt did, by pulling Dandy towards him and pressing a soft kiss against his lips.

And another. And another.

“I’m going to miss doing this,” he said in -between kisses, feeling Dandy smile into the next kiss.

“I’m going to miss you.”

“You don’t have to,” Geralt said, brushing his thumb over Dandy’s cheek. “I could still stay.”

“No. I know you miss your family.”

He did. He really did, but –

“The winter will be long without you.”

“We’ll see each other again in spring.”

That dark, cold thing that had been half-asleep in Geralt’s stomach reared its ugly head again. “What if we won’t?”

What if something happens and I’m not there to protect you?

It went unsaid, but they both knew it was what Geralt was thinking.

“Then I’ll still find you again.” Dandy hesitated, before pulling something out of one of the many pockets of his ridiculously long leather coat and handed it to Geralt, who took it without thinking.

“What is this?” he asked, turning the thing, that was wrapped in one of Dandy’s shirts, in his hands.

“It’s a gift. You can open it when you miss me.”

Geralt had a feeling that he would have to open it not an hour after he watched the wagons disappear from view. Still, he resolved to keep it wrapped, at least until he reached Kaer Morhen.

After having travelled comfortably with wagons and a group, being alone again was harder than Geralt liked to admit. The forest floor he slept on were cold and hard and the occasional rooms he manages to rent at inns were too quiet without the troupe’s constant bustling and by now familiar heartbeats around him.

With every step he took further away from his newfound family, Geralt’s heart grew heavier and colder. More than once, when bitter winds bit into his skin, he thought about turning around and joining the troupe again.

All of those thoughts were washed away in a heartbeat, when he found the familiar walls of Kaer Morhen towering above him.

He urged Roach to go faster and once he reached the yard, he didn’t hesitate to jump of Roach and bring his brothers and Vesemir, who had approached him, into a hug.

It had been too long since he had seen his pack, too long since he had told them how important they were to him.

He hadn’t realised how much he had truly missed them, until he had become part of a family that was able to spend each day of the year together and talk and hug whenever they wanted.

The wolves only had the winter, but Geralt was determined to make the best of it.

Silently, as Eskel ruffled his hair affectionately and Lambert grumbled unconvincingly about the hug having gone on for far too long already, Geralt thanked Dandy and wished he got to hug his family like this as well.

Had Geralt thought he would look at Dandy’s gift immediately upon arriving, he was now proven wrong. True, he missed Dandy with all his heart and it happened increasingly often, that he would think about how he was going to tell Dandy all about the things he did this winter, but he didn’t miss him with the ache he had come to expect but with an excited anticipation of seeing him again in a few month’s time.

For now, he had enough to do, fixing the crumpling walls and ceilings or listening to what his brothers had gotten up to during the time they had been apart.

Still, Geralt looked at Dandy’s gift that remained wrapped safely in the shirt every evening, tempted to open it.

It wasn’t until a few weeks into his stay at the keep, that he couldn’t wait any longer.

His breath caught in his chest when he unwrapped the gift in the privacy of his own room at the keep. For a moment, he didn’t even register what he was holding, too overwhelmed by the feeling of the soft fabric of Dandy’s shirt. Almost reverently, he ran his fingers over the familiar fabric, imagining that it was Dandy he was touching instead.

He was certain that, had Dandy wanted to, he could have found something else to wrap the gift in. Paper or some cloth that wasn’t needed anymore. The fact that he let Geralt have this, made that warmth in his chest glow like a beacon.

It took more strength than he would like to admit, not to completely forego the actual gift and bury his face in the shirt, drowning in Dandy’s scent again, as if he was right here next to him in this too big, too empty bed.

But Geralt set the shirt aside, turning his attention to the thing it had concealed.

The corners of his lips tugged up. It was a notebook. Of course.

His thumb ran over the edges and the cover of the book, before opening it. Like with Yarrow’s sketchbook, there was a note in the front.

Geralt ran his finger over the bumps in the page, the way Dandy had taught him, despite being able to see the dots that made up the letters. It would have been easier to just rely on his eyes, but he didn’t regret asking Dandy to teach him the way he read it.

Reading the note took him frustratingly long, no matter how much he had practiced with Dandy. It had been easier when his lover was sitting right next to him, correcting him where he misread and pressing kisses against his skin when he made it through an entire line.

His fingers faltered after the first line and he had to force himself to keep reading.

This was no simple note. It was a letter.

‘Dearest Geralt,

It feels like forever since I promised I would write this for you, but I didn’t know how I should go about it. As it turns out, writing a sequel to a play with a climax that is apparently based on my old memories, is harder than I thought it would be. But I hope you’ll enjoy it still.

I know reading this script is still hard for you, so don’t worry about reading all of it, if it’s too much. Nadine promised that we would start rehearsing as soon as we reach my parent’s place, so you’ll probably get to watch a performance when you get back. I still wanted you to have this.

I know the text might be a bit personal. But it had to be. Now stop it with your ‘scary face’, love. I didn’t just write this because I wanted our beloved pirate and knight to become friends in a different lifetime. I did it, because I want the same for us. I want to be able to know that I will always find you and know to trust you.

So I will make sure that this will be our best known play. Every child will know this story and hopefully, when the time comes, the next me will know it as well and know to go looking for you. I am a smart man, I’ll be able to read between the lines, in any life.

I know this isn’t something you like to think about, but it’s important to me. I want to meet you again. I want to be able to hug you and kiss you again. In spring, every day of my life. And I will do everything I can to make sure that you won’t be alone in my next life either.

I love you.

Yours, forever,

Dandelion.’

Geralt’s fingers were shaking when he reached the end of the letter, needing to run them over the letters again and again until he could be sure of the meaning. And then he did it again, just to read the last words once more.

“I love you too,” he whispered into the emptiness of his room.

Despite Dandy’s understanding words and the amount of focus it took Geralt to read the script, he read it all. Not all in one go, of course, but whenever he had time between sparring with his brothers or repairing the walls, he pulled out the book and read.

At first Lambert had teased him for staring at and touching a seemingly empty notebook that was only filled with dots that didn’t make sense to Lambert, but soon, the teasing died out. It didn’t take long for Geralt to tell his family everything that had happened. It took even less time for Eskel to wrap him in a long, warm hug and hold him as tightly as he could, when Geralt began trembling as he recounted the way he had met Dandy.

However comforting Eskel’s hug was, it was nothing compared to the shock of Lambert’s reaction. The usually so abrasive witcher quieted down, his face softening with a hope Geralt hadn’t seen on him since he had heard the rumours of Aiden still being alive.

Lambert didn’t voice any of his thoughts, but for once, they were written plainly on his face. He hadn’t dared to hope that Geralt’s theories of reincarnation were correct and now he realised that he might be able to see his best friend again.

Over Eskel’s shoulder, they shared a long look. They didn’t hug, not yet. But when they all got drunk that evening, too overwhelmed with the revelations that year had brought, Lambert leaned into Geralt and thanked him with the most sincere voice, Geralt had ever heard him use, that he had found Jaskier again.

It took him nearly all winter to finish reading the script for the play. When the snow thawed and Geralt made his way down the mountain, his mind kept going back to the play.

To the two almost-friends who had found each other again in a different life, as a witcher and an actor, to become lovers, who would always find each other again, no matter how many lifetimes it would take.

He couldn’t wait to find Dandy again and take him into his arms again.

“Dandelion!” Geralt called out to him, as soon as he saw him.

Dandy turned to him so quickly that for a moment Geralt feared the ridiculous hat he was wearing would fall off.

Geralt ran towards him and pulled him into his arms.

“You’re safe.”

“I promised you I would be.” Dandy’s voice got muffled in Geralt’s neck and Geralt could feel his smile against his skin. “You sound happy.”

“I am. I am happy to have you back.”

“I missed you too, love.” Dandy’s hand came up to cradle Geralt’s head. “How did you like the play I wrote?”

Geralt didn’t answer. He just placed a hand beneath Dandy’s chin and tilted his head up to capture his lips in a kiss.

The first time the players performed the sequel Dandy had written, it was at Dandy’s coastal home, with the sound of the waves and the seabirds’ cries in the background.

Watching Dandy play the part of himself was an experience Geralt hadn’t been prepared for. It was one thing reading the script haltingly. It was another thing entirely, to have Dandy speak lines that Geralt had told him Jaskier had said before or make references to his previous lives as Geralt had recounted them. He put so much heart into this performance; it was impossible not to see how much it meant for him.

Watching the play, Geralt didn’t cry, but when he came to see Dandy after the performance, he could do nothing but bury his face in Dandy’s curls and tremble while Dandy rubbed soothing circles into his back.

The play wasn’t just good, it was a masterpiece, destined for renown.

For the first time, Geralt thought that Dandy’s plan might work, that somehow this play could transcend lifetimes and bring Dandy back to him when the inevitable happened.

“My genius, brilliant Dandelion,” he whispered, pressing kisses into Dandy’s hair. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Still, he prayed with all his heart that the inevitable wouldn’t happen for decades to come. He hadn’t had enough time with Dandy yet.

No amount of time would ever be enough.

Before they left the coastal town that Dandy called his home, Geralt went into town on his own while Dandy spent a last day with his parents. He didn’t know much about instruments, but he had heard Jaskier play often enough that he could recognise when a lute sounded nice.

It took most of the coin Geralt had saved from contracts he had taken on his way back to the troupe, but an hour later, he made his way back to Dandy with a lute case slung over his shoulder.

He wouldn’t give it to him just yet. It would be hard keeping it a secret from Dandy, partially because Geralt was sure Dandy would notice that Geralt wasn’t telling him something and partially, because Geralt couldn’t wait to see Dandy’s face when he would hold the lute in his hands for the first time. Nor could he wait to hear him play again.

But he had to be patient. This was supposed to be a gift for Dandy’s birthday and the anniversary of the day they had confessed. Though Geralt didn’t doubt that Dandy would appreciate the gift no matter when he received it, he was a dramatic actor at heart and he would love a grand gesture like that.

It was only a couple more months of waiting. Geralt could be patient. Nothing would be lost by waiting a little longer to give Dandy this gift.

The scratching of Dandy’s cane across the pavement might have grated on Geralt’s nerves had it come from anyone else, but like this, it created a soothing background noise when their conversation faded into comfortable silence. Which it barely did.

They had been travelling again for a couple of weeks until they had reached a town big enough that Nadine deemed it worthy of staying here for a while. Ever since the troupe had reached this new city, Dandy had been unusually jittery. When Geralt asked about the cause, Dandy just shrugged.

“Don’t know,” he said, pulling a face. “I guess it’s just nice being on the road again. Don’t get me wrong, visiting my parents was lovely, but I’m not used to staying in one place anymore and it’s been months – months! – since we’ve been out and about.”

Dandy tilted his head back, so the sun could reach his face, before he scrunched up his nose from the sudden heat and lowered his head again, so that his feathered hat with the wide brim would give him shade once more.

A fond feeling welled up in Geralt. Gently, he took Dandy’s free hand and pressed a chaste kiss against his knuckles.

Without further ado, the two of them had separated from the other players, most of which were stretching their legs or taking care of the horses and wagons they had left outside the city walls for the time being, while Nadine went to speak to the alderman and negotiate the price for them being allowed to set up their stage in the town square.

Geralt was content letting Dandy tug at his hand and accompany him to make sure he wouldn’t get lost.

Or rather…he would have been content doing so, if it weren’t for that strange feeling of vague familiarity this place emitted. It wasn’t impossible that Geralt had been here before, years or decades ago. Cities changed, after all, and Geralt had often made a point of spending as little time as possible inside city walls, unless it was strictly necessary. After living for as long as he had, places tended to blur together.

Still, the sense of unease – a prickling chill at the back of his neck telling him that this place was important somehow - didn’t leave him.

He tried to distract himself by listening to Dandy’s chatter but even Dandy quieted down uncharacteristically, the longer they spent walking around.

Geralt didn’t understand, until they reached the town square. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring with wide eyes across the space, his heart picking up the pace, like a rabbit running for its life.

He knew this place.

“We need to go,” he said hoarsely.

“What? Why?”

He had been here before. Decades ago. Though last time he had seen this town square, it had been tumultuous, filled with terrified screams and people scrambling to get away. Away from Roach, the cockatrice head fastened to her saddle – and the artist, who had brought her here.

“Geralt?” Dandy asked concerned, when Geralt didn’t reply.

This was where Yarrow had lived. Where he had died.

Geralt’s blood ran cold and his hands began to tremble uncontrollably.

“Geralt, you’re scaring me.” Dandy’s hand tightened in his, but all Geralt could see was Yarrow being dragged away by guards. All he could hear was Yarrow’s voice that had been so small and lonely, echoing in that cell. All he could smell was the stench of sickness that had clung to the place where Yarrow had waited for Geralt, only to die thinking that Geralt had abandoned him.

“We have to leave,” Geralt repeated, unable to form any other words.

Still, Geralt remained frozen to the spot, until Dandy tugged at his hand, tearing him out of his spiralling thoughts.

Geralt moved, leading Dandy back as quickly as he could, all but fleeing this place. He didn’t take the route they had taken to get here but the more direct route, the one he had walked before, when he had run after Roach and the drunk thief who had attempted to steal her.

People stared at them and began whispering, as they hastened past them.

The inn. There was the inn. This was where Yarrow had waited for him, where Geralt had let him down. Where he had let him die.

That was when he heard the first shout. Angry murmurs that had followed them here, culminated in one shout, which cracked through the air like a whip.

“Get out of here, mutant!”

Another voice chimed in, shushing the first one. “Shut up, don’t make the witcher angry. Don’t you know what happened to the last man who pissed him off when he was here?”

Geralt came to a skittering halt, nearly making Dandy lose his balance at the unexpected stop. His head whipped around to the woman who had just spoken up. She didn’t look much older than Dandy, maybe by a couple of years, and her hair hung down her back in a long braid. She returned his look with wide, terrified eyes.

Geralt hadn’t known. He- he hadn’t thought that people remembered him here.

“What?” He asked, voice carefully blank. “What happened to the last man who pissed me off?”

The woman swallowed, her eyes darting around to the group of people who started to gather around them, lured in by the commotion.

“You killed him,” she said uncertainly. “Bewitched him somehow so he couldn’t leave your horse and then he – he died, right there.” She pointed a shaky finger at the inn. “Please, witcher, just leave us. We don’t want your curses and misfortune here.”

Geralt reeled back. Was that what people said about him? That he had killed Yarrow?

His heart sank. They weren’t wrong, were they?

“Take that back!” Dandy’s shout, sudden and angry, made Geralt flinch. “Geralt wouldn’t do that! Right? Geralt, tell them.”

It was impossible to breathe, to form words. He had done it. In a way he had bewitched Yarrow, had somehow bound Jaskier’s life to his. Had made Dandy fall in love with him.

Jaskier had died. And Yarrow had died.

Geralt’s hand in Dandy’s became numb. He could do nothing to defend himself, as more and more people joined the first man, hurling shouts and insults at Geralt.

Some of them were old enough that they might have been children during that fateful Belleteyn Geralt had spent here, remembering only the terror they had felt and the destruction the chaos had caused. But most people appeared younger, though no less spiteful.

Geralt was no stranger to how rumours worked. Stories and words held greater power than any sword, Jaskier had used to say. Rumours could turn into legends; stories of a vengeful witcher who would terrorise and curse every town he came across.

Those words cut into Geralt like daggers, tearing at his heart and mind like claws.

Decades had been enough to turn the story of an unwanted artist that had died waiting for his friend into a cautionary tale, a reason to shun witchers, an excuse to be as brutal as the townsfolk pleased.

Throughout all the shouts, Dandy stood beside him, never letting go of Geralt’s hand. He didn’t stop defending Geralt with his words.

Dandy couldn’t see the first stone flying through the air.

Geralt didn’t see who had thrown it. It didn’t matter. He barely noticed it landing hard against his shoulder. All he could see was the stone grazing Dandy’s hat, taking it right off.

It was too close. The stone had come so dangerously close to hitting Dandy in the head.

Within a heartbeat, Geralt pushed himself in front of Dandy, shielding him from any more harm. He bared his teeth, uncaring that it only perpetuated the rumours these people already believed, spurned by hatred and fear.

A sharp cry came from somewhere in the crowd, but when Geralt’s eyes snapped to the woman with the braid that had cried out, she wasn’t looking at Geralt in fear. Her eyes were trained on Dandy, who did his best to push past Geralt and stand beside him again.

“It’s him,” she whispered, blanching as if she’d seen a ghost. “That’s…that’s the one who died.”

She pointed a trembling finger at Dandy. “It’s him! I saw him as a child and he’s…”

“The witcher brought him back!”

Gasps and curses went through the crowd, some staggering back in fear, others stiffening, their hands clenching as if readying for a fight.

“He’s dishonouring the dead!”

“Filthy mutant!”

“We don’t want your kind here!”

“You’ve brought enough death to this city!”

For every insult, Dandy shouted something back, but Geralt couldn’t hear a word he was saying. All he could think of was that he needed to get Dandy away, make sure he was safe.

But Dandy wouldn’t budge. No matter how Geralt pleaded with him to leave, Dandy stood his ground, refusing to leave until he hadn’t convinced these people that Geralt wouldn’t kill anyone who didn’t deserve it.

Geralt’s pulse was racing, his hands were clammy and he couldn’t fucking focus! At the edge of his vision, he saw some people running to the stables, saw them emerging wielding shovels and pitchforks.

“Dandy, we have to go. Now.” He grabbed Dandy’s arm, pulling him away.

“No, Geralt, let go off me, I’m not done here yet –“

“The witcher is going to kill him again!” The cry was accompanied by a stone hitting Geralt square in the head.

Sharp pain erupted on his brow, blood dripping into his eyes.

The mob came closer, shouting and waving their improvised weapons, stinking of mindless fury.

Geralt pulled Dandy back, but Dandy thrashed in his grip.

“He’s not hurting me, you idiots!” He yelled. “He is the kindest-“

The people didn’t hear. Geralt saw it in their eyes, the terror and anger turning into thirst for blood.

One man rushed forward with a cry on his lips. Geralt’s blood ran cold. He yanked Dandy back at the same time that Dandy twisted in his grasp and finally managed to stand before him, assuming a fighting stance.

Ice filled Geralt’s chest, his lungs, his mind. It had been he who had taught Dandy this stance. He was the reason why Dandy was now filled with the hubris of believing himself able to stand his ground and fight against those people.

Geralt tried to yank him back, but it was too late.

Dandy never saw the pitchfork coming that pierced his gut with a sickening squelch.

“No!”

Geralt’s cry of anguish was louder than the shouts of the mob. Blood rushed in his ears and he saw Dandy gasp for breath, his sightless eyes wide and his lips forming silent words.

Time stood still. The charging men faltered as Geralt’s cries roared through the street. The stench of fear spiked through the air, but Geralt spared the attackers no glance. He couldn’t tear his eyes off Dandy.

Dandy, whose legs gave out from under him without warning. Geralt caught him, held him as tightly as he could.

“Dandy! Dandy, no, stay with me.” He pressed his hand against Dandy’s stomach. Something sickeningly sticky and wet drenched Dandy’s coat. Geralt’s hand came back red. “No, no no! You’re going to be fine, you hear me? I won’t let you die, I won’t!”

“Geralt-“ Dandy gasped, his voice trembling and the nauseating smell of salt and iron making it impossible to think.

Without hesitating, Geralt picked Dandy up, cradling him in his arms.

His eyes were blazing when he turned, people shying away from him, parting in fear to let him pass.

Geralt knew what they saw. In this moment, he looked exactly like what they had feared. Blood smeared across his skin, a snarl showing his teeth and burning eyes that promised that if they didn’t let him go to take care of Dandy, there would be more bloodshed this day.

A healer. They needed a healer. Geralt hadn’t been fast enough with Yarrow, but he could save Dandy. There still was time. He could do it. Dandy would make it.

Geralt had heard of witchers who had died from wounds caused by pitchforks.

Dandy felt so small in his arms, so breakable.

His blood didn’t stop gushing out of the wound. Geralt needed to stop the bloodflow!

He cursed, coming to an abrupt halt. As gently as he could, he set Dandy to the ground, but it wasn’t careful enough, making Dandy cry out as the motion jostled him.

He pillowed Dandy’s head in his lap and let go of him to shrug off his own shirt, ripping it into strips to bandage Dandy with.

It wouldn’t be enough. It had to be enough!

Dandy whimpered at the loss of contact, his free hand blindly reaching out for Geralt, while the other was gripping his cane so tightly as if his life depended on it.

“Geralt!” He sounded so afraid, his voice garbled by pain. “Geralt!”

Just his name, over and over, as if there was nothing more important to Dandy. As if he wasn’t fighting for his life, because Geralt had been too slow, too reckless freezing like that and too stupid to realise where they were before it had been too late.

“I’m here,” he croaked out, as he tore Dandy’s shirt open, revealing the wound.

His stomach churned. It was too deep. There was no hope the pitchfork had missed everything vital. Still, Geralt pressed his shirt against it, trying desperately to stop the blood, even though he knew it was useless. Even if he were able to stop the blood, the pitchfork had caused to much internal damage. It was a cold certainty, that the desperate part of his mind couldn’t accept.

“I’m here, Dandy. I’m not going to let you die.”

Dandy’s hand found his. Geralt watched in horror, as it too turned red from blood as he tried to pry Geralt’s hand off.

“No, Dandy, stop. I need – I need to save you-“

“Geralt…” Dandy’s wild and panicked expression made way for the smallest of smiles. “Kiss me.”

“I cant – I can’t lose you.” Geralt ignored Dandy’s attempts to get him to stop, putting even more pressure on the wound. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t.” Dandy’s breath came in rattles. “Kiss me. Please.”

It was that plea that made Geralt falter. He had to save Dandy, he had to –

The one hand that Dandy held, stayed on the wound, pressing down on it even now, even though Geralt knew it was too late. His other hand went up to cup Dandy’s cheek, smearing a red handprint over it.

His eyes prickled and he didn’t know whose tears he could taste on his tongue as he leaned down to press his lips against Dandy’s in hopeless desperation.

He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see Dandy’s bloodied skin, so he could imagine for even a moment that Dandy wasn’t bleeding out in a dark alley, as if the past year never happened; as if Geralt had been too late to save him that first time.

All he focussed on was the copper taste of Dandy’s lips beneath his as Dandy smiled into the kiss.

Then, Dandy’s lips stopped moving against his. When Geralt pulled back, he felt no breath ghosting against him.

“Dandelion?” He whispered, broken and scared like a little child calling out for his mother, knowing she won’t come back for him.

The whisper was drowned out by the clatter of Dandy’s cane as it slipped out of his limp hand.

#reincarnation au #geraskier #mcd #my writing #fic #witcher fic #fanfic #geralt #blind!jaskier #jaskier #witcher #sorry

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split-n-splice · 3 years

Text

Takes place during the episode "Sick Day" because I had to wonder: How did Drakken get sick too?

From my The Company You Keep timeline to experiment with where they stand by the time we see them in the show.

[ FFn | Ao3 ]

Sick Day

Drakken slammed the phone down for the second time that day and slumped in his chair, fingers drumming on the desk. His lips pursed as he glowered at the phone, debating between calling across the lair and making the walk.

Towards her, Shego found him insensitive and cold enough on his good days. Often she swore she preferred it that way, even if he didn’t always feel the need to uphold it so stringently. He could get soft and sweet like a marshmallow after he’d accomplished their collective goal, she’d remind him, because villainy wasn’t for the mushy.

Despite the rift, Drakken found himself pacing back through the lair. In their own private wing, he paused as he passed by the kitchen doorway, stealing a glance in.

The kitchen was no different than any other cavern in the lair, except for the homey kitchen necessities and a sorry cloth-covered card table that sufficed for their dining table, which Shego was slumped over now, nursing a tall glass of cocoa moo. She shivered, bundling up tighter in her green robe. She hadn’t brushed her hair today. It didn’t look like she’d washed it either, sticking up in places and twisted into clumps, certainly from tossing and turning in restless sleep.

Just as Drakken tiptoed closer, she brought a tissue to her nose and blew it like an elephant before gasping and taking another big gulp of cocoa moo. She jolted and swore when his hand rested on her shoulder. “Milk isn’t going to help that stuffy nose, Shego,” he warned. That’s what his mother always told him, anyway.

“Did I ask for advice?” she grumbled up at him, shrugging his hand off.

He pulled off a glove to feel her burning forehead, ignoring the low noise of objection she made. “Have you taken any—?”

“Yes.”

Drakken grunted. He tossed both gloves down on the table and shed his lab coat to stand in the scrubs beneath before turning for the cabinets. “Hungry?” he piped, pulling out a can of condensed chicken noodle soup. A glance over his shoulder, and he saw Shego’s eyes roll and her lip curl before she began coughing violently into her crumpled tissue. Of course. She was too good for soup from a can. What was he thinking?

He rolled his own eyes as he moved to the refrigerator instead to take inventory, turning a deaf ear to his accomplice hacking to clear her throat. Between just them in the privacy of shared living quarters, she didn’t have such a pristine image to uphold. Still, it was unusual to see her sick. Some occasional manageable allergies, maybe food poisoning, but the cold or flu was rare. A robust immune system was a perk of being superhuman, she’d once told him while hunched over a porcelain throne as he’d held her hair back.

Drakken swallowed a lump and his eyes darted across to Shego standing up and knocking back the last of her chilly cocoa moo. He swore he saw steam rise on her breath, just as he swore he could see a faint feverish glow to her skin where she’d opened up her top to cool her chest.

“Killigan is on his way,” he blurted as the woman turned to leave. She paused in the doorway, almost glancing back. Drakken fidgeted and shifted foot to foot. “Uhm. So. Just a heads up. Maybe button up your shirt a little.” The last thing he needed with this Killigan situation was the man getting an eyeful of certain parts of Shego’s anatomy.

She gave a weary sigh and buttoned up the top three buttons she’d had popped open amidst the hot and cold flashes of her fever. “M’going back to bed,” she announced hoarsely, instead of asking why the Scotsman was coming over. He didn’t think to explain. She’d just get upset he was replacing her for a few days to keep world domination plans moving along.

Once Shego was out of the room, Drakken glanced about for the little-used kitchen telephone. Usually when he picked it up, it was to give his own mother a call for a little cooking advice or to beg a recipe out of her. This morning, his thumb punched in a sequence he was strictly forbidden to dial. He wasn’t even supposed to know it really, as Shego preferred staying estranged from her family.

There was a small commotion as the call was answered, and Drakken swore he could feel the loathing radiating through the telephone. “Lipsky?” ground out the woman as if the name he was born under was something vile.

He tried to pay it no mind. “Shilo is—”

“Arrested?”

Drakken flinched. “Wh—no! She has a cold, or the flu, or something,” he explained quickly, frustration aside.

“It’s going around,” noted the woman on the line. “What about it?”

“I was just…wondering? About comfort foods she may like?” he asked, innocently enough.

“You’ve been together how many years now, and you don’t know—”

He interrupted her criticism. “Are you going to help me help her or aren’t you?” he bit back.

“Chicken noodle soup.”

“I offered her Campbell’s—”

“Homemade,” sighed the judgmental woman. “She really loved the bowtie pasta when she was little. And a little celery – but not too crunchy. Crimp-cut carrots. Not too thick. Not too much salt. Chicken thigh, if you have it…” He should have taken notes, but he settled for nodding along and dedicating the details to memory. “I’m sure you can figure it out. I know you’re good in the kitchen.”

His brow furrowed. “How did you—?”

“She told me. It was one of the homebody things she loved about you.” Past tense.

His shoulders fell with the pang of guilt. He still cooked for his partner, sometimes. Not as much as he probably should have. Too many nights now, they made separate meals and ate alone.

Drakken wasted no time. With a deep breath, he pushed off from the counter and began the hunt through the kitchen for necessities for chicken noodle soup up to par with Shego’s standards.

A while later, he held a hot bowl atop a potholder and was rapping gently on Shego’s bedroom door, hating it a little that she had her own bedroom these days at all. Everyone needed their own space though, he rationalized.

She’d almost gone to bed with him last night, her mood lightened by the successful heist of Ray-X, but he’d barely laid hands on her scorching skin when she’d sighed and slumped forward against him, bringing activities to a sudden standstill. He should have noticed she’d been burning up more so than usual then, but he’d been a little too distracted to realize the change. She’d kissed his cheek, apologized halfheartedly, and given him a “not tonight” before slipping out of his room, leaving Drakken a little miffed at getting worked up just to be left.

If she was sick, then maybe it was a good thing they hadn’t done more than a little necking last night, he decided as he opened up her door despite the lack of invitation. By the sounds of it, Shego could barely catch her breath between sneezes anyway.

A pile of tissues was already overflowing out of the wastebasket beside her chaise lounge. Shego sat bundled like a big teal burrito in her thickest blanket, sniffling as Drakken approached from the side, hopefully out of the line of fire.

“I brought you something,” he informed, braced for the moment her dangerous eyes cut up to him for intruding.

Instead of snapping at him, she carefully crawled out of her cocoon, just barely. Enough to poke her hands out and accept the hot bowl Drakken offered down to her. Hunched forward with the bowl balanced between knees and chest, she stared into the bowl suspiciously like some sort of little hermit tea-reading witch.

He took a small shifting of her feet to be an invitation, and came to perch at the end of the chair. “Hope it’s up to snuff,” he muttered as the ill critic stirred her soup.

“I can’t sniff,” she informed, nose noticeably stuffed up, though he supposed her ears might be muffled too. She tried to take a whiff off the steam anyway before taking a sip, and Drakken felt just a little better to hear her pleasant hum. At least she’d stopped sneezing and coughing long enough to slurp down half the bowl in a few big gulps. She gasped for air then and poked around at the noodles with her spoon. “You made this?”

He grunted in confirmation.

“S’good.”

Drakken let his eyes wander up from watching his feet to take in her room he infrequently got a glimpse of. It was quite bare. The essentials. A big wooden wardrobe, a nice dresser with vanity mirror, and an actual bed across the room from her chaise lounge where she preferred to spend her personal downtime reading or manicuring her nails.

“More?” Shego rasped, and his eyes darted back to her holding out the empty bowl with a hopeful puppydog pout. Drakken complied, a small smile brought to his lips at her mousey, “Love you.”

“Now you’re just being a kiss-up,” he said with a withering frown that didn’t last long.

Between bites and slurps from her second helping, Shego paused to stare at her spoon, as if something had only now occurred to her. Her eyes flicked up to Drakken. He could see it in the reflection of the vanity mirror as he stood before her dresser inspecting the scarce few family photographs she’d yet to destroy.

“Just like Mom used to make,” she muttered. “How’d you know?” Her eyes were suspicious now as they met his through the reflection.

“Lucky guess,” Drakken dismissed. She was liable to fly off the handle if he admitted he’d called her mother for suggestion. He was about to take his leave when Shego held the bowl out toward him.

“I’m not hungry anymore.” Considering how much she’d already downed and how quickly, it was believable, but Drakken knew better than to think it was simply because she was full.

He didn’t argue it though, opting to merely take the bowl and go. “Get some rest,” he said over his shoulder.

As he was walking down the hall, he didn’t think twice about raising the bowl to his lips to take a sip of the leftover soup. He really should have though, but hindsight had a funny way of sneaking up behind a person.

In no time at all, he was a sneezing feverish mess, only unlike Shego and her superhuman health, he wouldn’t be getting over it within a 24 hour period.

#oneshot #Drakgo #Drakken #Shego #Dr. Drakken #Kim Possible

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loveafterthefact · 4 years

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Love After the Fact Chapter 68: Let’s Take a Walk

Lance and Keith spend a day together, enjoying Keith's birth quintant.

First Previous Next

Keith wakes up alone, which he doesn’t like because he’s been spoiled. Ears swiveling, he can hear Lance puttering about in the main room. Sighing, the Galra snuggles back into the blankets, not quite willing to surrender his current comfort.

A weight settles next to him. “Hey, beloved. Good morning.”

Keith’s eyes flutter back open, eyeing his spouse and the small pile in his lap. “Good morning. What’s all that?”

“Well, your mother told me that today is the quintant of your birth.”

“Oh. I kind of... forgot?”

“She said you might have. But rest assured, I will never forget. Get used to getting presents.”

“Are those the things you bought from Vrek and Ilun? Not much of a present if I know what it is.” It’s a tease, but judging by the quirk of a starlit eyebrow, it’s taken as a challenge.

“Oh, I think you’ll be delighted.” Smirking a little, Lance sits on the edge of the hanging bed, pushing it back and forth with his leg in a slow, swinging motion. “You are frustratingly indifferent to superficial things, so if you show interest in anything, I'm going to notice.”

Lance sets the pelts and the boxes in front of Keith, smiling. He runs a gentle hand through the young Galra’s hair. The Galra gazes up at his mate, endeared by his efforts. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now open your presents! I never get to give you presents!”

“I don’t know that you’ve ever tried to give me presents,” Keith murmurs, lifting the smaller box.

“Yes, because you never take an interest.”

“Not in anything you can get on Altea. It’s harder for me to get things from my own planet- Oh.” Keith’s eyes light up at the loose stones, amber, already polished. “Lance, these are beautiful.”

“I know you probably wanted finished pieces, but I figured we could give them to Vetroneius. Have them make something special for you. There’s plenty there.”

“You didn’t give the hunters enough for this while they were in town. How did you-” Keith’s amethyst eyes narrow, watching Lance squirm with guilt. “Did you trade all of your jewelry?”

“Everything I brought with me, except my belly button piece and my crown. But you’re right. You have so little from home, and I should have done something about that a long time ago.”

“I could have done something about it, too.” Keith smiles. “But thank you. I wonder if Vetroneius could make me some clothes in indigo. It would look nice with these, and be more like what nobility wears here.”

“I think that sounds wonderful. You’re a Prince of Altea, but you’re also Galra, and we shouldn’t ignore that. We should celebrate it. Now.” Lance claps his hands together, sets them on the other box. “This is the special present. For your birth quintant, which you didn’t tell me about. Because you’re the worst. But you’re also mine, and I love you, so I hope you like it.”

Keith chuckles, always charmed by Lance’s cheerful sense of humor. He opens the box. It’s a gold hair comb, an elegant, arcing spray of gold leaves, flowers, and tendrils adorned with small pieces of amber. “Oh, Lance. This is for me?”

“Yes, of course. You asked for it, remember? Well not this specifically, but when Ilun showed it to me… I thought you’d like it. And I wanted you to have something nice from home.”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.” Keith brushes a loose lock of hair over his shoulder, trying not to show how moved he is, even as his throat tightens a bit. “I don’t even know what to say.”

He’s never had something like this. Everything he was given after Shiro brought him into the city were necessities: clothes, tools, weapons, armor- all the things a Galra needs to live on Daibazaal. Everything Vetroneius and their team make for him always feel impersonal. But this comb… Lance chose this from among many items because he thought Keith would like it.

And he does. It’s gorgeous, it’s something from home, and Lance chose it for him.

“You really like it?” the Altean asks, licking his lips nervously.

Keith pulls him into an embrace, touched. “I love it. Thank you.”

“You are so welcome, beloved.” Lance squeezes him tight, but then draws away. Far too soon, which Lance picks up on. He settles in a bit more, letting Keith climb into his lap.

“You should get me presents from home more often,” Keith murmurs. “I’m going to have Thace send some more vakalt pelts if any come in with a party. For our kit,” he explains. “Vakalt pelts are so soft and hold warmth very well. And they’re oddly good at holding scents, so we can make them smell like us. It’ll make our kit feel safer when they’re first born, especially if you and I have to work separately.”

“Of course. We’ll have to figure out a way to send currency of some kind.”

“He’ll just get them for us, and we’ll owe him a favor or two. Reciprocity is what keeps our society moving. I’m sure you’re charmed by the rural atmosphere, but the truth is so many of our resources, including medicine, electric heat, comms devices, and stuff like that, are given to the military. We’re left with nothing more than what you’ve seen.”

“Your resources are spread quite thin, huh?”

“Not thin. Uneven. It frustrates Lotor to no end. He hasn’t mentioned it to you I don’t think, but his relationship with his father is strained because of it.” Keith rests his head on Lance’s shoulder, admiring his gifts, running the soft fur of the pelts beneath his fingers. Lance does the same, mimicking Keith’s motions, working his scent into the fur.

“Hm, a progressive young adult not getting along with their father? I never would have thought- Come here.”

The Altean wraps an arm around Keith’s still slender waist, kisses him soundly. Keith purrs, wraps his tail around Lance’s ankle as Lance licks into his mouth.

“Lance, we-” Keith lets Lance kiss past his words. “We have stuff to do.”

“We actually don't- Hm. I just have the most beautiful spouse ever, and I love him an awful lot. I just can’t help myself.” Lance’s blue and pink eyes look him up and down, Keith suddenly anxious beneath his gaze.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just- You’re different. I see it quite suddenly now.” Lance reaches up, brushes hair out of Keith’s eyes. “Taller, broader shoulders, like you said. Still quiet… But a more confident kind of quiet.”

“Do you like it?” Keith murmurs, pressing their brows together, letting his eyes flutter closed.

“You’re perfect. You’ve always been perfect. You'll always be perfect.” Lance brushes a thumb over Keith’s cheek. “Now come on. Get moving, before I keep you here all day.”

“I have concerns about your impulse control.”

“Oh, Ancients, me too. Go take your bath while I cook breakfast.” Lance kisses his cheek, flits outside.

Keith smiles, resting his head on his knees, tail thumping against the bed. He spies BleepBloop running after Lance, no doubt hoping for an offering. A buzzing sound fills Keith’s ears. His datapad. A glance reveals it’s his mother, probably calling to congratulate him on his birth quintant. Keith licks his lips, glances after Lance, declines the call. He doesn’t want to speak to his mother right now. The words he needs to say to her are ugly, and will be unpleasant for them both. Now isn’t the time.

“I want to go foraging,” Keith declares later, pushing away his bowl. “Will you come with me?”

“Of course!” Lance leaps up, heading outside to clean the bowls with sand the way Keith showed him last night. “Will you show me some things?”

“Sure. come on.”

Lance is not difficult to entertain. It’s one of the things Keith loves most about him. The Altean prince finds pleasure in the simplest things. Hence, they spend the morning wandering about the forest, Lance exploring, Keith enjoying being back on his home turf.

“What’s this?”

“A lichen.”

“What’s it do?”

“Grow?”

“Worst field trip ever, beloved.” Lance giggles, nose wrinkling with the playful quip.

“Uh… I used to put it around my garden to keep bugs away?”

“Amazing!” Lance squeals, gazing delighted at a clump of bright blue lichen clinging to a branch. Keith shakes his head, biting his lip against a smile of his own as he bends down to harvest some herbs from a log.

They spend most of the quintant in the forest. Keith shows him the trees and the shrubs, what plants he used to make medicine when he felt sick, or when his bones hurt, or when he was injured and got an infection. Keith shows Lance how to dig for yaro root at the lake's edge, and harvest nuts and fruits from the trees. He shows him how to find insects to roast on a fire, and how to eat them. He shows him how to make fire.

“I never expected to see my Altean mate sitting on the bare ground, eating a ten-legged terror.”

Lance rips off another crunchy leg, leaving only three attached to a lumpy bug body. “It tastes good. I’ve never eaten a bug before.”

“Tourist.” Keith munches on his own terrors. He’s trying to store up some extra nutrients before his season, in the hopes it might increase his chances of a successful pregnancy. He doesn’t trust his body in the slightest. It demands more than it should already.

“You okay?” Lance asks as they finish up, nibbling on the last of his fruit.

“I’m just thinking?”

“About?”

“Lots of things.” Keith glances up, watching BleepBloop leap through the trees. “My kittenhood.”

“Any good memories?”

“TreeTrunks teaching me how to hunt bugs. That was good.”

“TreeTrunks?”

“BleepBloop’s mom. She died when my dad did, but she helped raise me, in a weird way.” Keith slips his hand into Lance’s. “I learned to hear what she heard, see what she saw. Watching her, I learned what sounds to be afraid of and what sounds meant food. I owe my life to her.”

“Maybe BleepBloop can teach our kids some skills too, huh? We should bring them back here. You can teach them about where they come from.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we should. I think they'd love it out here.”

Later in the day, Keith takes Lance out of the forest, back onto the tundra. They make a campfire under the stars, cook fish and vegetables on sticks. As the typical cold of sunset begins to bite, Lance bundles up in their cloaks with BleepBloop in his lap, watching Keith kick dirt on the fire. Once Keith determines that he's not going to burn down the tundra, he snuggles into Lance's cloak bundle, purring softly. It seems Lance is never going to get over that; he loves hearing that sound, knowing it means Keith is happy.

They sit in the black night, and Keith turns his eyes to the sky.

“I was born on this quintant two centaphoebs ago. I would have remembered it now.”

“How?”

“Look up.”

Lance looks up, expecting to see stars, and instead seeing a huge expanse of pitch black blocking them out. “Mom says that on the day I was born, the moons were new at the same time. That only happens once every centaphoeb. Down here, planetside, quintants all tend to bleed together. Birth quintants tend to be forgotten. But once every cetaphoeb, I know exactly how old I am.”

Lance stares up at the vast blackness. It’s frightening, almost, gazing at nothing where there should be stars. He hadn’t noticed the increasing darkness. He’s spent most nights huddled in their bed, fighting off the biting cold of Daibazaani nights. "Ancients."

“It was scary… Last time it happened. I was all alone, and it was so dark. When the moons are both new, none of the lizards glow, and the gleam blossoms close, so there was literally no light. I couldn’t even see. My eyes are stronger now, because I’m older, but back then… It was like I was blind.”

“That must have been awful.” Lance finds Keith’s cold-bitten hand, squeezes it tight.

“Yeah. I was still really small. Way smaller than I am now, even. I was the perfect snack for a lot of forest predators. Gintars in particular were always coming around trying to sniff me out.”

“And what’s a gintar?”

“A gintar is an eight-legged serpent with weirdly soft, wrinkly skin. Like they should have hair, but don’t.”

“That sounds… so gross.”

“Creepy and gross. All the legs are like, just behind their weird triangle heads and then they’re just tail.”

“Nasty! Ew! Why does that exist?”

“I have no idea. I wish they didn’t.” Keith sighs, staring up at the distinct blackness that commemorates his birth. “Twenty decaphoebs. Two centaphoebs. I can’t believe it.”

“You’re so old,” Lance teases. “I’m married to an old man.”

“Shut up!” Keith jabs an elbow into his mate, laughing. “I’m not that much older!”

“About thirteen phoebs. So no, not that much older. Old enough for me to tease you.” Lance shivers. “It’s freezing out here.”

“Is that your way of saying you’re ready to go in?”

“Kind of? Yes. The sky is creepy. Awesome, but a little disturbing.”

“Agreed. You should make a light for us so we can get back,” Keith whispers, just a touch closer to Lance’s ear than necessary.

“O-Okay.” Lance makes a werelight in record time, a pale light in the black of the hovering abyss. The Altean beams, scales glowing in the dark, Keith’s amber-gleaming eyes shining back. “There you are.”

“Here we are,” Keith murmurs, smiling, tipping their foreheads together. “Thank you for today. It’s been… forever since my birth was celebrated. I’m glad I got to share it with you.”

“Me too, beloved.” Lance’s smile is one of the sweetest Keith’s ever beheld. The Altean lays a hand against his cheek, and Keith leans into it with a sigh, purring with affection.

Walking back, arms around each other, cloaks over their shoulders, the two laugh and carry on, tripping over each other’s feet before tumbling into bed. Lance makes a playful quip, kissing Keith’s cheek. Keith teases back. They laugh, fingers in hair, in fur, tracing over skin and scales. Lips on lips. For Keith, it’s the beginning of another decaphoeb. For them both, it’s the beginning of everything.

#LoveAftertheFact #LAtF #klance #galtean au #altean lance #galra keith #adashi #altean adam #galra shiro #voltron legendary defender #vld

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mab1905 · 4 years

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84 Questions

original:

https://fuckyeahsurveys.tumblr.com/post/61049002526/84-questions

1. Put your music player of choice on shuffle and list the first 10 songs

Someone New (Hozier)

Cactus Tree (Joni Mitchell)

Budapest (George Ezra)

And Dream Of Sheep (Kate Bush)

Nancy Mulligan (Ed Sheeran)

And Then She Kissed Me (St. Vincent)

Level of Concern (Twenty One Pilots)

Lovefool (The Cardigans)

Best For Last (Adele)

Video Killed The Radio Star (The Buggles)

2. If you could spend a week anywhere in the world, where would it be and why? Would you take anyone with you?

Japan. I travel a lot and it’s been on my list for a while, I would really want to go to the Hayao Miyazaki/Studio Ghibli theme park, if it ever opens that is. I would bring my best friend, Layla. I also would love to go to Amsterdam again.

3. What is your preferred writing implement? (eg. Blue pen, pencil, green pen)

My ink nib cartooning pen (similar to a quill, but without the feather)

4. Favourite month and why?

October, not too hot, not too cold, and of course, Halloween!

5. Do you have connections to any celebrities (even minor)? List them.

Nope, met several, got to true connections though.

6. Name 3 items you could pick up from where you are.

My iPad, my Leatherman Multitool, my collection of David Bowie postcards.

7. What brand logo is closest to you currently?

The Apple logo

8. Do you ever play board games or other non-computer games? Got any favourites?

Chess. Card games like Solitaire, Black-Jack, and Castle. A game that I can’t remember the name of but it’s essentially a board-game version of Capture The Flag. Mostly Chess.

9. A musical artist you love that isn’t well known

St. Vincent? I’m not sure if she’s well known or not.

10. A musical artist you love that is well known

David Bowie.

11. What is your desktop background currently?

A picture of Apollo 11 accompanied by the words “It won’t fail because of me”

12. Last person you talked to, and through what you talked to them

My best friend Layla, through the iMessage app.

13. First colour name you can think of that isn’t in the rainbow

Salmon

14. What timekeeping devices are in the room you are currently in?

My iPad, my computer, my collection of vintage stopwatches

15. What kind of headphones do you use?

Sony, wireless, noise canceling, over-the ear

16. What musical artists have you seen perform live?

Twenty One Pilots, Sylvan Esso

17. Does virginity matter to you?

I guess? I think it’s important, it’s certainly some kind of ‘milestone,’ but I don’t think it should be treated like the scale of a persons ‘purity.’ It’s important because it’s sex, and (hopefully) that means that you’re sharing a consensual, intimate experience that feels fucking great for both (or all, if it’s more then two) participants.

18. What gaming consoles do you or your family own?

Z e r o, although I’m hoping to buy a PS4 at some point so I can play Detroit Become Human.

19. What pets do you have? What are their names?

Juno is my cat, she is an adorable grey tiger-striped shorthair. She’s got little white mitten-paws and it’s absolutely ridiculous.

20. What’s the best job you’ve ever had?

Doing tech at a local theater

21. What’s the worst job you’ve ever had?

Teaching art to little kids (I like kids but it was just exhausting)

22. What magazines do you read, if any?

The New Yorker, and the National Geo if I’m like, waiting in my doctor’s office or something.

23. Inspiration behind your URL?

It’s just my initials and a year from the Edwardian era

24. Inspiration behind your blog title?

It’s just my initials

25. Favourite item of clothing?

My reddish-brown knit sweater vest and my floral bow-tie (often paired together)

26. Are you friends with any exes?

I made a very conscious effort to cut my exe out of my life… we were not happy for a very long time to say the least

27. Name at least one book you loved as a child.

Strega Nona, it’s about an Italian witch that makes great pasta in a magic pasta pot. My dad would read it to me and my sibling in Italian.

28. What’s your native language? If that language has distinct regional variations, which variation? (eg. AU English, US English)

US English

29. What email service do you use?

Gmail

30. Is there anything hanging on the walls of the room you are currently in?

So many things. Here's the list:

A giant David Bowie poster, a plaque that says “David Bowie IS,” five David Bowie postcards, a giant Abbey Road poster, all of my patches from summer camp, polaroids of me, my friends, and my family (including my cat), ticket stubs from concerts and plays, two trail markers that I took off of fallen trees on two important cross-country backpacking trips I went on, playbills from a bunch of broadway shows I’ve seen, a poster that says “Stonewall was a riot,” a DC Comics poster, a Pink Floyd poster, a few paintings of mine, and a painting that I got for free from a street artist I befriended in Rome when I was twelve

31. What’s your favourite number, and why?

16, 24, 21, and 8, some numbers make me uncomfortable, but these are just very soft and light and nice

32. Earliest moment in your life you can remember?

A rocking chair with fruits painted on it sitting in a dark room and my great grandfathers brown leather loafers (I remember early early stuff in just images or stills, not full moments)

33. What did you have for dinner yesterday?

Pasta with shrimp

34. How often do you brush your teeth?

Usually twice a day, but I’ve been waking up later and later and sometimes forget in the mornings

35. What’s your favourite candy/chocolate?

I don’t know the name of it but it’s this chocolate bar that is stuffed with caramel, hot chili flakes, and crunchy bits of baked tortilla. It's one of the greatest things I’ve ever tasted.

36. Have you had other blogs on Tumblr? Do you have any other blogs currently?

I used to have one but I deleted it because I never used it

37. If you were suddenly really hungry, what would you choose to eat?

I would probably walk into the kitchen, realize that too eat something I would have to muster the effort to cook something instead, and then decide to just have a glass of milk instead.

38. What fandoms would you consider yourself a part of?

Downton Abbey (primarily Thommy)

Chernobyl HBO (as well as the Leonid Toptunov/Sasha Akimov subfandom)

Lord of The Rings and The Hobbit (books and movies)

CrankGamePlays

Buzzfeed Unsolved

Star Trek TOS

Philosophy Tube

The Dark Crystal and The Dark Crystal: Age Of Resistance

39. If you could study anything, what would it be?

If I had the energy to fully wrench my life in a completely different direction I would like to become a professional scuba diver and study the ocean. I already am a scuba diver, but it’s a hobby and not something I’m able to do very often at all.

40. Do you use anything on your lips? (eg. Chapstick, gloss, balm, lipstick)

I’ll wear chapstick if I have a cold

41. How would you describe your sense of humour?

Intellectual and dry

42. What things annoy you more than anything else?

People who think they’re better than everyone else and people who recognize a fault in themselves and then refuse to work to change it

43. What kind of position are you in at the moment?

I’m laying on my bed, hunched over my laptop

44. Do you wear much jewellery?

Occasionally I’ll wear a necklace or a few rings. I have a lot of non-traditional bracelets (I literally just have pieces of canvas and industrial tie-line wrapped around my wrist). I’m a gay guy and I like to sort-a walk the line between feminine and masculine (often leaning more towards the masc side), so it really depends on my mood.

45. Who is the leader of your country, currently? Any other levels of government with leaders? (State, region, province, county, district, municipality, etc)

A cheese-pizza flavored pringle is currently POTUS and every day the thought of that tears away at a piece of my soul.

46. Last 3 blogs on your dashboard, not including any of your own

@shochmonster @velvet-of-the-night @panicsheerbloodypanic

47. What do you carry your money in?

My pocket, I have a wallet and I don’t use it

48. Do you enjoy driving? Why or why not?

It’s fine, don’t love it don’t hate it

49. Longest drive you have ever been on?

Three days

50. Furthest away from home you have ever been?

Went on a trip to Switzerland to visit family, I think that’s the farthest but I’m not entirely sure.

51. How many times have you moved house?

Twice

52. What is on the floor of the room you’re currently in, not including furniture?

Five paintings, stacks and stacks of books, boxes filled with stuff (mostly more books), plates, glasses, cutlery, clothes

53. How many devices do you own which can access the internet?

2, and iPad and a computer

54. Is there is anything that is guaranteed to always make you happy?

Listening to music

55. Is there anything that always makes you sad?

Thinking about my past for too long

56. What programs do you currently have open?

Google drive, I’m writing

57. What do you associate the colour red with?

Blood and fire

58. Last strong smell you can remember smelling?

Shrimp and butter

59. Last healthy thing you ate?

Three green olives and a handful of bean sprouts

60. Do you drink tea or coffee, and how much per day?

Used to drink coffee like it was life support (which it essentially was), now I’ll have the occasional cup of tea.

61. What do you associate the colour blue with?

Birds and rain

62. How long is the closest ruler you can find?

I don’t think I own one

63. What colour pants/skirt/etc are you currently wearing?

I am wearing olive green corduroy slacks

64. When was the last time you drank water?

30 minutes ago?

65. How often do you clear your browser history?

Never

66. Do you believe nude photos can be artistic, rather than erotic?

Nude anything can be artistic, it can also just be normal, eroticism is in the eye of the beholder.

67. Ever written fanfiction for anything?

Yes dear god so much fanfiction.

68. Last formal event you attended

I genuinely can’t remember, I am have extreme social anxiety and don’t go to events like that unless I absolutely have too

69. If you had to move your birthday to another date, which one would you choose and why?

I don’t care about birthdays

70. Would you prefer to be at a beach or in the countryside?

Beach, I love to swim, I’m also a surfer

71. Roughly how many people live in your town?

Uhm… eight times the number of people who live in the state of Montana and that doesn’t count daily commuters and tourists (New York City is essentially just a tin of sardines, except inside are 8.399 million sardines)

72. Do you know anyone with the same birthday as you?

No, but three of my friends were born on the day just after my birthday.

73. Favourite place to shop? Can be a certain store or a place where there are multiple stores

The Strand Bookstore, L Train Vintage, any antique shops in the town of Hudson, New York

74. Do you have a smartphone? What kind? If you don’t, do you want one?

I used to have an iPhone 5SE but then it stopped working after a few weeks of quarantine and I haven’t gotten a new one (I’ve had it for about 5-6 years so it makes sense)

75. What is your least favourite colour, and why?

I don’t have a least favorite color, but my favorite color is prussian blue

76. How do you spell grey/gray?

Grey

77. Go to your dashboard and describe the image shown in the radar section (below the “Find blogs” link)

It’s anime fanart for a show I’ve never heard of

78. What difference is there between how many followers you have, and the number of blogs you follow?

79. How many posts do you have?

219

80. How many posts have you liked?

619

81. Do you post mainly reblogs, or your own content?

Mostly reblogs but I do my own content as well

82. Do you track any tags?

No, just blogs

83. What time is it currently?

10:39

84. Is there anything you should be doing right now?

writing

I’m not quite sure who to tag so it’s just open to anyone I guess?

#i love questionaires #they're so much fun

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mariposamagazine · 3 years

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Manic Pixie Swamp Thing

a short story by Laura Garnica

Leo Torres looked at his Apple watch again, his left foot tapping restlessly on the pavement. He ran a large, clumsy hand through his wavy black hair and glanced up at the rising moon. It gets dark so early now.

6:06.

Should I send a text? He wondered. Nah, I’ll give it another five minutes. She’ll be here.

He fidgeted with the straps of his blue face mask. It took some getting used to, even after seven months of living through a pandemic. Leo worked from home, so he rarely went into public spaces, rarely had to bother with putting one on. He still couldn’t get over the discomfort– it made him think of the face-huggers from Alien.

6:07.

He hoped the other café patrons weren’t getting creeped out. Tall brown kid with a backpack lurking on the street corner, practically sweating with nerves despite the chill October air… and this café was in one of the nicer parts of the city, on top of that. An elderly white lady stared him down and clutched her Chanel purse a little tighter as she passed him on the sidewalk. “Maldita vieja bruja,” he muttered with an eye roll. But Leo didn’t want to get a table without his date; it seemed more polite to wait so that they could go to the hostess together. Or am I just overthinking it?

6:08.

Was this even a good idea? Asking out a girl whose face you’ve never seen? Leo’s friends had given him so much shit when they found out she didn’t have social media.

“How do even you know if she’s cute or not?” Sammy had demanded. “It’s practically a blind date– and she’s already deaf.”

Leo bristled. “First of all, she’s just mute, not deaf. And second, there’s more important things than appearance, dick.”

Sammy and their other roommate, Josh, had crept into Leo’s bedroom during his ASL class yesterday to catch a glimpse of their friend’s mysterious crush. Leo had almost burst a vein when he spotted them in the corner of his screen, their goofy faces peering over his shoulder like a couple of kids, barely containing their snickering. The minute class was over, he stormed into the kitchen to glare at them.

Sammy nudged him with a grin. “Bro, she was the only one wearing a mask in her video. You’re telling me she shows up to virtual class like that, every time?”

Leo shrugged, turning pink.

“I mean, she’s always zooming from this café in uptown, so she kinda has to.”

“What, like she hasn’t had internet at home the whole semester?”

Josh looked up from his phone to add “…it’s a little sus, dude.”

“And her name is… Lilin? Is that some crunchy-granola white girl name? Like did they forget to add the ‘a’ for Lilian?”

Leo couldn’t help but crack a smile at this. It was kind of a weird name.

Josh started laughing– “Ey, maybe that’s the answer, Sam. Maybe her family is the hardcore hippy type– you know, like the ones who believe in chemtrails and don’t even own a microwave or a tv.”

Whatever. She was nice, and she was really sweet when they got paired up in class last week. Besides, she was way better at ASL than him, and she didn’t seem to mind helping him out. She was a good listener, too… although she didn’t offer up much information about herself, so it was a pretty one sided conversation. Have to remedy that today, he thought.

6:10.

A slender girl with silky white-blonde hair that fell to her hips emerged from the crowded crosswalk. Her dark eyes sparked with recognition when she spotted Leo, who began enthusiastically waving an arm in the air in front of Cafe Étude. She wore a burgundy sundress over a black turtleneck and tights, with a black mask made of some kind of silky material. Leo adjusted the collar of his button down nervously.

Hi, he signed.

Hi, Leo. Nice to finally meet you in person, she replied, her spidery hands moving far more deftly than his.

He nodded towards the podium by the entrance of the café, and they walked up to the bored-looking hostess together.

“Table for two?” she drawled. “Sit anywhere you like,” gesturing to the recently expanded outdoor seating, each metal table placed a careful six feet apart from the next, spilling over the sidewalk into the street.

“Thanks,” Leo replied. They found an empty table in the corner of the outdoor seating area nearest to the café itself. Leo slung his backpack off his shoulders and leaned it against one of the table legs, rummaging around for his school binder and lecture notes. He felt her dark eyes watching him even before he resurfaced, arms full of papers and notebooks and his beat up laptop. She had such a curious presence about her… Or I’m just not used to being around new people anymore, he thought sheepishly. Still, Leo found himself reluctant to meet those strange eyes.

I’m glad you asked me to study with you. It’s better signing in person than over Zoom, she relayed. She bent down to gather her own laptop out of her satchel, white-blonde hair falling in a curtain over her face. It was sort of absurd, how long it was. Leo hadn’t seen a girl with hair that long since elementary school days. As she tucked it behind her ear, he got a glimpse of the edges of her mask– it was definitely one of those fancy ones, because it covered every inch of her face below the eyes, and tied behind her ears instead of relying on the usual cheap elastic bands.

What is it? she signed.

Leo felt his face flush in embarrassment.

Your hair. It’s really long.

She didn’t blink. Leo’s hands stuttered.

In a good way! It’s pretty, I mean.

Her eyes crinkled ever so slightly– the barest hint of a smile. She popped open her laptop– an old PC, no stickers– and the blue-aproned waiter returned, hovering over them with a notepad. Leo quickly asked Lilin what she wanted.

“One latte and one iced earl grey tea, please. And uh, some toast, too.” The waiter scurried away, and Leo smiled at Lilin under his mask, before realizing she probably couldn’t tell if he was smiling, either.

He remembered she had mentioned moving to the city recently, and asked her how it had been, transitioning during a pandemic.

It was… okay, she replied, her hands moving much more slowly now. It’s just me, so… there wasn’t much to move.

Oh. Where are you from, anyways? Sorry, I feel like I should know that.

At this she paused, dark eyes boring into him, unblinking.

Very far from here. You wouldn’t know it.

A tense silence formed and began to stretch between them– Leo unsure of how to reply when she so clearly didn’t want to open up.

Thankfully their waiter returned before the awkwardness became unbearable, balancing a plate of toast and their two drinks in small ceramic cups.

“Ah, thank you so much,” Leo called to the waiter as she left their table.

“You mind if I…?” he gestured to his face.

I promise I’m good, I just took a test on Monday (it was negative) and I took my temperature before I came here, he signed.

Lilin nodded, the strange look in her eyes gone. Leo sighed with relief as he removed his cloth mask, folding it neatly in his lap. He smiled nervously. Why was she so cagey when I asked about where she moved from? he thought. He grabbed a slice of toast from the plate and started nibbling on it, flipping through yesterday’s lecture notes. He looked up at the sound of her grabbing her glass of tea, and tried to hide his excitement. Leo tried not to stare as she carefully adjusted the cup a few inches to the right of her laptop. No reveal. She caught him staring and he fixed his face so his disappointment wasn’t so palpable. Lilin said nothing, but he felt like she was smirking at him.

Their study session passed by quickly, Lilin often stopping to ask if he needed help, or creating conversation. He found himself telling her about his siblings back home, his longtime interest in languages, his love of animals. She had very little to say when he asked the same questions of her, but that seemed to be her MO so he quickly gave up on pushing her.

You raised pigs yourself? she asked, her eyes incredulous.

Damn, this really is a good way to practice, he thought as he struggled to convey that the agriculture program was a big deal in a small, rural town like his. Not to mention he grew up on a ranch for half his childhood.

Did you feel bad for them? She asked.

Who, the pigs? Yes. Worst part.

Her eyes narrowed in what was either a concerned frown, or a strange half smile, he couldn’t be sure.

She never took off her mask once, not even to try the toast. By nine, they had covered the entire midterm practice exam.

Cafe Étude began closing up shop, so Leo and Lilin began to pack up their things as well.

How are you feeling about the midterm next week? Lilin signed.

Do you think you still need more practice? If you want to keep going tonight, I don’t mind. She slung her satchel over her shoulders and stared at him expectantly. Leo chuckled nervously.

“Yeah, I definitely feel better about it, but knowing myself, that probably doesn’t mean much. I don’t wanna put you out though, Lilin! It was really nice of you to even meet up with me to study in the first place.”

She stepped closer to him, and the scent of seaweed and ocean brine tickled his nostrils. The city was thirty miles from the nearest beach, but suddenly that didn’t seem to matter in the moment.

It’s okay, Leo, I’m happy to help. You’re very nice. This was a nice study… date.

Leo felt his face burning under his mask. I mean, this was going pretty well but I didn’t think it was going THAT well, he thought incredulously.

He started when he felt a cold hand enveloping his, Lilin trailing her long fingers across his palm. Her eyes, so dark and deep, unblinking on his. It felt like his head was leaving his shoulders, like those strange, lovely eyes were hypnotizing him. He slowly reached towards her ear, hands trembling as he brushed the edge of her mask with his fingertips. Then her hand was around his wrist like a vice, pulling it away from her face with barely restrained force. She let go to sign, her hands moving quickly, urgently.

No, not here. Let’s finish studying at my place? I live alone.

Everything felt so far away, like Leo was watching the scene unfold from the comfort and distance of a movie theater seat. Getting his hands to reply felt like having to wade through deep water.

Okay.

Her cold hand was on his again, and before he knew it the café was far behind, as well as the bustling streets of mid-city. The streetlights became infrequent, their light a dull orange on quiet sidewalks where rows of identical, impassive houses loomed over the couple. Leo didn’t recognize this part of town, it seemed strangely empty. He found that he couldn’t even remember what streets they had taken to get there. Lilin hadn’t let go of his hand since they had started walking, so they walked in silence. That odd scent continued to waft behind her, that briny, seaweed smell. Her hand was so cold and clammy, and even though his was like a radiator it hadn’t warmed in the slightest. Yet still, Leo couldn’t find it in himself to be worried. Her white-blonde hair flowing over her shoulders, those dark, dark eyes. It was enough just to see her, be near her. There was something special about her, he felt.

At last Lilin came to a halt, and let go of his hand to sign we’re here.

It was a bland house similar in style to its neighbors on that long, endless street, converted into apartments, all of which looked empty. Leo realized that there hadn’t seemed to be any places with their lights on since they’d turned on this street.

Lilin rummaged around in her bag for keys, then led him up the porch stairs to the red door on the left. Leo took out his phone to offer some light as she fumbled with the lock in the dark. A harsh scraping sound and then the click of the door being opened– strange, Leo thought. No service out here. He gently tapped her shoulder.

Hey, Lilin, does your phone have service? he signed. She simply stared at him for a moment before stepping into the pitch-black hallway. Leo waited for lights to come on, but they never did– instead, the rusty scrape of a match could be heard, and there was Lilin lighting a candle wall sconce as if it was the most normal thing in the world. But still… something in him told him it was just part of her nature, not to worry. Candle light seemed to suit her better, somehow. Yes, this was how it was supposed to be. He stepped through the doorway into the velvety darkness.

It was cold. The air felt stagnant, like the place hadn’t seen fresh air in weeks.

Lilin blew out the lit match and took the candle she had lit from its sconce, using it to light the other candles scattered throughout the hallway. The flames seemed to duplicate each time one was lit, until he realized that there were mirrors of all different sizes covering the drab walls. It was a rather small foyer with a single doorway at the end. Whatever was beyond that doorway was a mystery; the darkness was a door of its own, obscuring whatever lay beyond their little circle of candlelight. She dropped her satchel to the floor with a thunk, not even giving it a second glance. Once the hall candles were lit, she walked back to Leo and placed the candle in his hand, gently wrapping his fingers around its base.

I want to show you something, Leo, she signed. He swallowed thickly, a nervous smile spreading slowly under his mask. It was cold, but he felt lucky. She chose me, he thought sluggishly.

Lilin reached for the bottom of her skirt and pulled her dress over her head in a quick fluid motion. She tossed the garment into the dark, unlit room adjacent to the foyer. In shock, all Leo could do was continue to stand there holding the candle, staring like an idiot. Lilin moved on to her boots, her tights, and then before he could process any of it, she was naked, save for her mask. Her body was thin, so thin her ribs protruded from her abdomen. Her skin was the same uniform milky paleness, almost translucent in areas that it stretched thinly over her bones. Not a single freckle or mole or distinguishing mark, just that smooth white glow. Almost like the belly of a fish, a thought came to him from far, far away. Her long hair gleamed in the candlelight, sections covering her nakedness like a Renaissance painting.

She walked slowly, deliberately around him till he felt cold, slender arms tenderly wrapping around his waist from behind. Her skin was even colder than the air in the room– it made him shiver, and yet, seeing their reflection in the mirrors around them gave him that strange sense of belonging again– she chose him. He was lucky, wasn’t he? Her hands ran over the front of his jacket, unzipping it, and he felt her chin rest gently on his shoulder.

Leo barely felt the heat of the candle wax that was now dripping down his hand. Somewhere, some small part of him wondered what the fuck was going on. And still, he could do nothing, say nothing… He wanted to leave, but he had to see her face. He had to. Then things would make sense, then he could leave.

“Lilin…”

And then her spidery fingers were reaching behind her ears, the whisper soft sound of the silk ties running through her hair as she loosened the mask. Through the mirror before them, her eyes did not leave his, did not blink. It was so cold, he realized, so cold in that hallway. The flickering candlelight cast strange shadows on the walls and floors, whose spaces between the mirrors he saw were blank and dingy. No photos, no decorations, no windows, either. The wax burning his flesh felt so far away now.

Lilin slowly pulled her mask from her face, the ties trailing against his shoulder, and Leo watched through the mirror with absurd fascination as she revealed an empty black hole where her nose should have been. The skin of her face was drawn tight, like plastic stretched over a skull. A mouth that was like a fresh gash on her face, her lips raw and red and far too long– her smile nearly stretched from ear to ear.

Lilin let her mask fall softly to the floor before wrapping her arms around him again, tighter. Leo found that he could not move. Maybe he hadn’t been able to move this whole time. He couldn’t even move his head to look back at the door. Was there a door to begin with? The memory of the keys and the flashlight and the sound of the lock scraping open felt like memories from another lifetime.

What time is it? Their faces next to one another in the mirror looked almost comical; a study in opposites. His own face, still somehow so calm and relaxed. But there wasn’t anything to worry about, anymore, really.

Lilin’s strange, awful mouth began to move. Those red, raw lips parting to reveal a crimson mouth lined with row upon row of long, thin, glittering teeth.

Teeth like an anglerfish, he thought to himself from far away, with strange amusement.

A voice like a scream, a song like a dirge filled the dark corners of the room.

#writing #student writing #mariposa magazine #short story #fiction #horror

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