#also leaving some pencil sketch exposed

[cordeliawhohung]

Golden Days

soap x pianist!fem!reader - written for @glitterypirateduck holiday challenge

A quiet coffee shop is the perfect place for Johnny to relax and get his mind off things. But he finds he enjoys it a bit more when someone starts playing the old, beat up piano.

masterlist

warnings: none! super fluffy! short and sweet. maybe slightly ooc soap because i don't write for him super often...

wc: 1.7k

a/n: inspired by the original lyrics to "have yourself a merry little christmas." i think that version deserves some more love.

Getting some R & R was always easier said than done, and Johnny found that he always had to keep his hands busy while he was on leave. Whether it was a quick skirmish of footy, hitting the gym, or even going for a walk, he was always in motion. But as the weather got cruddy with the bitter December wind and the pavement slick with what little snow dusted the lands, he found himself stuck to drawing. Simple sketches, he liked to call them. Silly doodles that meant little to nothing. 

A majority of his journal was full of fragments of the world. A favela in Brazil where the buildings and homes seemed to stretch forever; a watermelon with a knife sticking out of it; diagrams of various ships and vehicles; the works. And he’d write some snarky comment or make fun of his captain in the privacy of ink and paper. His home away from home, whenever he was feeling sentimental, anyway. 

Even as he enjoyed a fresh cup of coffee in his favorite mom-and-pop’s cafe, he drew. At first he started out with attempting to draw his cup of coffee, logo and all, until he realized that it would be lukewarm at best by the time he got the sketch how he liked it. Instead, he opted to drink his coffee while he scribbled down a Christmas tree. Might as well keep it to memory when the older gentleman who made his coffee had obviously spent so much effort into decorating it. Dazzling lights, gold tinsel and ribbons, and a glowing star at the very top. He wouldn’t be able to catch all the details, but it was enough. 

A cold chill blew past the exposed skin on his forearm as the door opened and closed with a ringing bell. By habit, Johnny quickly glanced up towards the entrance where he saw you, bundled up in a winter outfit. He had never seen you before, which didn’t surprise him because he was hardly home enough to recognize most faces anymore. Your smile instantly warmed the shop back up as you grinned at the old man behind the counter. 

“About time you showed up,” the old geezer teased as you approached him. “The usual?” 

Sweet, Johnny thought. There was always something endearing about the love elders held for younger generations. Their knowing gazes, their kind smiles, although usually mischievous too. The owner got to work on making your cup of coffee, and as you waited you began to wander around the shop. Decorated head to toe in pine and all the gold decorations in the world, it was a bright warm corner in the sleepy city. 

Naturally, you eventually made your way over to an upright piano pushed up against the wall next to the Christmas tree. Somehow, it was beautiful and ugly at the same time. Faded ivory keys, but a beautiful dark stained wood for the body, and it was also missing the upper panel, exposing the hammers and strings. It looked like it had been through hell and back, yet still stood proudly like the day it was made.

“Why don’t you play us something?” the owner suggested, his hands still busy with making your drink. 

You paused just as your fingers brushed against the keys before throwing a cautious glance around the shop. No one else was in the shop besides Johnny, who you threw a polite smile towards before your eyes settled back on the older man. 

“Maybe another time,” you deflected, eyes flickering over to Johnny. “Don’t want to scare away your customers.” 

“Aye, don’t worry about me,” Johnny spoke up. He waved a graphite covered hand at you, pencil still nestled between his fingers. “I don’t mind a bit of music.” 

The internal struggle was obvious in your eyes, and Johnny turned his attention back to his drawing in an attempt to keep the pressure off of you. Eventually he heard a slight creak of wood as the ancient stool settled underneath your weight. Johnny couldn’t help but glance back up at you as your fingers ghosted over the keys, petting them almost, before you dove headfirst into a dreamy chord. 

“What the hell?” you exclaimed, the music quickly cutting off. 

Boisterous laughter erupted from the owner as he leaned against the counter, your cup of coffee next to him. You looked at him with wild eyes and mouth slightly agape. 

“You tuned this piece of junk?” you questioned. 

The old man held his arms to the side and shrugged. “Merry Christmas.” 

With some newfound vigor, your attention returned back to the piano in front of you before you played that chord once more, that time with more confidence. It was such a soft, beautiful melody; something that reminded Johnny of his childhood somehow, yet he couldn’t quite place it. Some sort of nostalgia hidden deep in his chest that started to ache and burn. 

And then you started to sing. 

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas. It may be your last.”

That… wasn’t how he remembered the song going. Blue eyes tore away from his journal as Johnny looked up at you. With your back turned to him, it was impossible to see your face, but he watched as your arms moved and fingers danced, how your body swayed with the beat and your feet tapped on the pedals. 

“Next year we may all be living in the past. Have yourself a merry little Christmas. Pop that champagne cork. Next year we may all be living in New York.”

So much for making the Yule-tide gay. There was something a little more somber about this version of the song you performed, something that had both Johnny and the shop owner completely enamored. Between your singing and the lights of the Christmas tree casting a warm glow over you, it was something straight out of an odd, demented Hallmark movie. 

“No good times like the olden days, happy golden days of yore. Faithful friends who were dear to us, will be near to us no more.”

There was a slight pause in the music. A prolonged chord that rang on the exposed shimmering strings of the piano. The moving hammers fell still in the exposed skeleton of the piano. After a moment, your head fell slightly as you continued on to finish the rest of the song. 

“But at least we all will be together. If the Lord allows. From now on, we’ll have to muddle through somehow. So have yourself a merry little Christmas now.” 

Notes sang and died down into silence as the song ended. You sat there for a short while before sliding off of the bench and awkwardly facing the rest of the mostly empty shop. The owner gave you a few well-natured claps, to which you bowed sarcastically to before approaching the counter once more to retrieve your drink. But Johnny was still dumbfounded. 

“Beautiful. Haven’t heard that version before,” he spoke up, setting his pencil along the center of his journal where it rested between the pages. He leaned back in his seat, stunning blue eyes taking in the sight of you.

You turned to him with a sheepish smile, hands wrapped around the warm center of your cup. “It’s the original version Judy Garland wrote, actually. The one they deemed too depressing and asked her to change.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Really?” 

“Yeah. I always liked this version better,” you explained. 

Somehow during your short conversation, you had managed to meander closer to Johnny’s table, hand brushing against the chair across from him yet not braving to take the seat. He wasn’t ignorant to the way your eyes flickered down to his journal, or how your lips tugged into a small smile at the sight of it. 

“Pretty,” you commented, nodding towards the journal. 

Instinctively, Johnny glanced down at his work, and he could feel his throat grow a little tight. There was the luxurious Christmas tree he had sketched, with the dazzling ornaments, then there was the dimensions of the walls behind it, and then there was a half finished sketch of you, sitting at the piano facing away from him. 

“Aye, it’s something I guess,” he chuckled, hands playing with the edge of the paper.

He blamed the glow of the lights for making you so beautiful. Like some sort of angel that should have been sitting on top of a tree rather than talking with someone like him. But you are there, and you’re real, and you ask him his name and give him yours and he swears that whole conversation feels like coming home. Like he never belonged anywhere else except in that coffee shop with you. Maybe he was just feeling sentimental. 

“Well, I, uh, have to get going,” you said eventually, eyes awkwardly darting to the clock that rested above Johnny’s head on the wall. “But I’ll be back here around the same time tomorrow. I could… play you a happier song.” 

It was impossible for him to hide his grin as he stared up at you. Of course he agreed, and he found himself getting more excited for it than he should have been. You give him a sheepish wave as you exit the shop, the bell ringing with your absence as you dissipate down the street. Things grew quiet again as it was just Johnny and the old shopkeeper, who was busy cleaning his machines. He looked back down at his journal and fiddled with his pencil as he thought about how to finish up his sketch. A part of him wished you came into the shop earlier. He would have put you at the center of the picture rather than that tree. 

“She’s single,” the man suddenly spoke up. 

When Johnny looked up, he realized the man was looking at him, and he wasn’t all too secretive about the mischievous glint he had in his eyes either. Really, he wasn’t quite sure what to say in response. 

“Yeah? That’s some intel you got,” he said, slightly stiff and a bit sarcastic. 

“She likes the Italian restaurant two blocks down the road,” the man continued. “I’m sure she would say yes if you asked her to go with you.” 

At that, Johnny had to chuckle, and it sounded something like a warm grumble in his chest, as if he was actually attempting to entertain the idea. Still smiling, he glanced down at his journal again, finger tapping against the paper. 

Have yourself a merry little Christmas. It may be your last. 

Well, perhaps he could entertain that thought after all. 

#soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #codholiday2023 #cod x reader

[himbopunk]

quick rundown of different ways i've made patches

for @pescabianca cuz they asked lol

gonna start by saying i'm far from an expert on any of this, especially proper screenprinting and blockprinting. i'm just some guy that's been winging it for the past 3 years and it's just kind of what i do now? idk. here's the methods i've used for making patches

method 1: stencil and fabric paint

in which you're making a stencil and painting by hand. first time i made patches i hand carved out the letters on some cricut vinyl (i didn't have a cricut i just used a craft knife and taped it to my desk), put it down on top of a piece of fabric and sponged on some fabric paint. you can also use cardboard or cardstock you tape down for the stencil and tape down, whatever you got, i just find the vinyl was the easiest to make it not bleed as much. pretty simple, pretty accessible. the vinyl option is more for a single patch, smth like a cardboard stencil is better for multiple. make sure to use an iron to set in your paint once it dries

method 2: diy screen with mod podge

you can make a simple screenprint with mod podge, some kinda mesh fabric and an embroidery hoop. take voile or chiffon, pull the fabric taut on the embroidery hoop, and sketch on your design with a pencil (be careful as to not rip the mesh). remember that the flattest part goes down on your fabric, so make sure youre drawing inside the hoop.

paint on the mod podge in the negative space of your design, let dry. you can at this point use screen printing ink or continue with fabric paint, i think this was the time where i first bought screen ink. put your screen flat onto your fabric, some ink/paint at the top of the screen, then use an old gift card or id as a squeegee to do the actual printing part, dragging it down in a scraping motion. pull away and leave the patch to dry. you probably wanna iron it to set in the ink once you're done.

this is good esp if youre printing a bunch at once but doesnt wash very well so it can be kinda one and done sometimes? i used fabric mod podge so it lasted like 2 gos before getting all gross. but if you already have this kinda stuff laying around for other crafts, its pretty simple and introduces you to screeprinting somewhat without spending too much money

inspo/instruction link

method 3: screenprinting

getting/making an actual screen, you can just buy them online tbh, though it's not too hard to diy imo, especially if you're good with wood (haha) at all. i'm not, the way i diy'd it initially was finding some cheap wood picture frames from the dollar store or smth, pulling the screen mesh taut with a big embroidery hoop cuz i didn't have clamps and such, and using the staple gun to staple them onto the frame. it works just as well tbh, but i don't know how much i can speak on the longevity of dollar store frames or how well i attached the screen mesh, those are kinda skills in of themselves you gotta hone which is why this is all so much more involved

speaking of which, the next part is emulsion. i use jacquard emulsion fluid because it's cheap and i'm used to it. speedball is fine but i bought a bulk bottle once that was expired and i've never forgiven them for it. emulsion is a fluid thats mixed with a photosensitive fluid that causes it to cure and harden in uv light. you spread that across your screen, leave it in a dry, dark place to dry overnight (i used to use the bottom shelf of a bookshelf with a curtain over it, then the top drawer of a dresser. you can put it in your closet or something, depends on the space you have.) keep it in that dark place until you're ready to use it, otherwise you risk hardening it by accident.

once you've got a screen prepped, you want to have a transparency of your image in all black so light can get in everywhere but your design, and then expose it either to the sun or a lighting set up that you've bought/made. once you've cured it, you can then remove your transparency and you should be able to rinse out the emulsion fluid that was under it, leaving you with a screen to use!

for lighting setup, i use a flood lamp type thing that speedball sells that i bought years ago off of blick, i think? since the places i've lived have very specific times of day where you get direct sun to reliably use, at a certain point getting the lamp became worth it. depending on what you're using both in terms of your emulsion fluid and light source, the curing time can be very different, but this method allows for fine detail that can be difficult to attain by hand. stuff like screentones to create gradients, and the ability to make several screens for different color layers. it can be tricky to do sometimes but the ease of making more complex designs and having longer lasting screens can be worth it

also at this point you definitely want to be using actual screen printing ink, probably. you can buy a squeegee, i often still just use old credit cards and such, especially with my smaller designs, so it's up to you on that end. make sure you're using fabric ink, not acrylic ink, for your patches. just in general be aware of what type of ink you're getting, i use water-based inks that rinse out the screen easy with a spray bottle of water and some paper towels (you can also just rinse em in the sink but mine is too shallow lol).

i'll link to some tutorials i used when starting out, cuz this stuff is a lot easier with a visual aide and i don't think i explained it very well skdjf

youtube tutorial // tutorrial 2 // tutorial 3 // screens i used to get // emulsion fluid i use

method 3.5: screen filler

if you liked method 2, you can use the screen filler method to make screens, i've never done it but i understand it's similar in that you are basically panting on the negative space or something? again, i've never done it, i've just used emulsion after moving on from the mod podge method.

method 4: blockprinting

block printing is pretty straightforward, imo. basically you take a block of rubber or linoleum (or wood but i've. never done wood printing but it's fairly similar in basic method afaik) and trace or draw a design onto it. you then carve out the negative space of your design, leaving an impression of only the part you want to print. you then take a brayer/roller, roll it in ink until it's covered and then roll the ink out onto the raised part of the block that remains once you've carved it. take your fabric and press it flat onto the inked block, using something smooth like the back of a spoon to press it down and make sure your ink gets in there. i usually always make at least one more patch than i need with this method, since the first print often tends to be a bit rough/light and it improves over time. like your first pancake bein the worst one i guess. when you're done, you can wash the blocks with soap and water, maybe using an old toothbrush to get in all those crevices. but that's it, it's intense on focus, time, and physical effort, but pretty straightforward

note that when you blockprint something, the image will be reversed, so if you're drawing directly onto one keep this in mind. what i usually like to do is take some paper and put it over my original sketch, draw over it with a soft charcoal, then press it down onto the block to transfer the image. that way it makes sure your image is flipped, and it's a hell of a lot easier than any of the weird printer methods i've seen.

btw you can get a plate for rolling ink onto but i'll be honest? for about a year or two i just used like panes of glass i had from the picture frames i used for screens or i'd tape a piece of plastic or transparency down onto the table/desk. it's like, slightly easier now that i have an inking plate, but only just because it's a bit less waste, but it doesn't change much, imo. i even sometimes prefer using a gel printing plate, which is not really supposed to be used the way i'm using it! honestly, as long as your surface is flat and smooth it seems to be fine.

theoretically you don't even really need to use block printing ink, but i'd always struggled using other stuff? idk. if you're making patches, id suggest getting some fabric blockprinting ink. it'll take a day to dry, a bit longer than screenprinting ink, but it'd very sturdy. you can iron it to help secure it like the other stuff, but if you let it dry a couple days you might not even have to.

youtube tutorial/inspo // carving tools i use // some rubber blocks to start with // rubber brayers for rolling ink

note: if you can find any art supply exchanges, they're great for getting supplies for the latter methods on a budget. in chicago, there's a like, art supply thrift store of sorts called the waste shed where i got most of my early blockprinting supplies for pretty cheap, and if i didn't have those, i probably wouldn't have started making blockprints when i did.

note 2: this is all for printing on fabric, but you can also get acrylic screen printing ink or block printing ink for making prints on paper if you want!!

#daze.txt #sorry this is so long #and a bit scatterbrained #hopefully the links help if nothing else

[bookwormscififan]

Lonely Love

Read on AO3!

A/N: Mare wakes up in an empty bed to a silent house. These two things should not happen at the same time.

Warnings: There is implied smut at the end. And there's a fear that Mad is leaving Mare.

***Also I do have a rough sketch of a floorplan for Mare and Mad's house as well as a sketch of Mad in reading glasses if anyone wants to see that.***

--

Mare wasn’t surprised to wake up alone in the bed. There were often nights when Mad would sleep in his office, having stayed up too late researching and not wanting to wake Mare. Waking up alone was almost becoming a regular thing for Mare.

No, what was surprising was the silence in the hallway. When Mad was researching, he’d usually listen to some opera or ballet, and the soft sounds of cellos and clarinets were a comforting tune in the hall. This morning, it was the silence that woke Mare up, and that scared him.

Mare patted the pillow by his head, searching for a note, then sat up with a racing heart when he found no note. The blankets pooled around his waist, exposing the cold chill of both the empty house and Mare’s panic to his bare torso.

He climbed out of bed, hastily tossing on a comfy hoodie, then stumbled down the hall to look for Mad. He sighed when he spotted Mad’s usual shoes still sitting by the door, meaning he was inside somewhere. Turning on his heel, he began to search the house, starting at the living room and kitchen.

A glance into the music room flooded his mind with glad memories spent with Mad, and he rested his head against the doorframe to reminisce before moving away to continue his search. The laundry was empty, and Mare shook away certain thoughts as he pushed off the doorframe to head down the hall for the office, slowing down as he approached.

The door was closed, normal for the office. Mad had certain instruments inside that needed to be kept safe, so the door was always closed. Mare glanced at the ground, seeing the faint light from under the door, then took a deep breath and knocked softly as he grasped the doorknob.

Mad didn’t answer, but he had to check. He opened the door slightly, nose twitching at the smell of chemicals wafting outside, then poked his head in to ensure nothing would blow up in his face before stepping inside and closing the door.

Mad’s office was possibly the largest room in the house. It was an extension that Mare had built himself – with the help of Phantom and Jackie, to be honest – so Mad wouldn’t have to travel long distances to perform his impulse experiments. Second to the library that Mare would check later – or the bedroom that Mare made sure Mad spent time in – the office was the most visited place of Mad’s.

The record player Mad had insisted on buying stood by the door, needle off the record signalling it had finished playing a while ago. He glanced at the record, smiling at seeing ‘Vivaldi’s Four Seasons’ on the label; the record he had bought Mad as a joke gift that had quickly become one of Mad’s favourites.

Something was bubbling in a corner by the window, seeming to use the sunlight to make some sort of reaction. The office desk was filled with papers, pencil stubs all over the surface, and Mare tilted his head at the overflowing paper basket of crumpled notebook pages.

The small cot in the back of the room was empty, blankets and pillow untouched. Mare had gotten him the cot when he had complained of neck pain after several days in a row sleeping hunched over his desk. Mare touched the cot gently, then turned and walked out of the office, not finding Mad.

The library was the last logical place to find Mad, and Mare stepped into it hesitantly. If Mad wasn’t there, he had simply disappeared without a word, and Mare wasn’t sure if he’d be furious or heartbroken if that were the truth.

“Mad,” he breathed, seeing Mad curled up at the foot of one of the shelves, open book held to his chest with his head leaned back against the books, fast asleep. Mare held back a chuckle at seeing Mad’s reading glasses perched just on the tip of his nose, tiptoeing to his side and carefully taking the glasses off.

Mad mumbled, nose twitching before rolling his head to the side, wincing at the stiffness from sleeping in that position. He opened his eyes slowly, patting the book on his chest and stretching his legs, frowning at Mare before he recognised him.

“Mare… I must have fallen asleep. How late is it?” He let out a sigh when Mare gently massaged his neck, working the stiffness out of it before moving to his shoulders, guiding him away from the shelves to work out the knots there too.

“You stayed here the whole night, dear heart,” Mare said softly, moving to sit beside Mad and wrapping an arm around his shoulders when he leaned into his side. “I went to bed after saying goodnight to you when you were in your office, and I woke up without you by my side.” He stroked his fingers over Mad’s shoulder, picking lint from his pants as he searched for the words to say. “I thought you’d left me.”

“You know that I’m the one who would think you’d leave me,” Mad replied quietly, taking Mare’s hand from his leg and twining their fingers together. “I’m so sorry I made you think that. I just needed to find a book to help an experiment I was going to start. I must have gotten distracted. We’re a pair, Mare. It’s you and me against the world.” He chuckled at himself, squeaking when Mare squeezed his shoulder to pull him close.

“This is why I keep trying to find new ways to get you into bed at a decent time,” Mare said with a smile, releasing Mad’s hand to scoop him up and stand, carrying him out of the library with a laugh. “It’s not because I want you sleeping properly, it’s because I need you to stop falling asleep in places I can’t find you.” He huffed as he fell onto the bed, landing on top of Mad and making him gasp out a laugh.

“We have a bed for a reason,” he continued, holding Mad’s waist and kissing his face, slowly moving to his neck. “Just because we renovated the guest room into a library isn’t a reason to sleep there. This,” he continued, pressing Mad into the bed and watching his face go red, “This is where you’re supposed to sleep. In this bed, by my side. I’m going to make sure that fact stays.” Moving Mad further up the bed so his head was against the pillow, Mare leaned forward to catch him in a deep kiss, removing his hoodie before making his promise real.

---------

@iamvegorott @brokentimewatch

#writing #fanfiction #madmare #fluff #angst #fluff and angst

[northliights]

@spynorth 

What do you get someone  for Christmas that's a little more hey, i like you and a little less I would cut out my heart this very second and lay it at your feet ... ? He's spent weeks agonizing over it, tossing aside decision after decision  - some for being too much, others for being too cheap. The thing he finally settles on leaves a weight in his middle and a lump of fear in the back of his throat and he'll never admit to how his hands shake wrapping it, but the torn paper on one edge and the sloppy knot of ribbon might give it away. When he places it in her hands, it's with a quick flash of a smile that’s belied by the shade of worry in stormy blue eyes.

No more lies, she had said. And he's done his best to follow that wish.

Under the wrapping paper (a simple forest green and gold thing) is an average sized sketch book, brown leather cover with a simple forest setting etched upon the cover. On the first page is a note of sorts, each letter crafted in a careful script as if the writer were hoping his message would stand the test of time. It reads:

Aurora,  I wanted to give you something that stood out from the rest, something as bright in a sea of gray as you are, but every bracelet and necklace seemed like something for any other woman in London. And you're not any other woman, at least not to me. I've spent the last few months trying to explain what you mean to me and I thought maybe this was a great way to try once more - a bit hard to stick my foot in my mouth with a pen isn't it? Though I'm sure I'll find a way. This book is my attempt at saying the things that always seem so impossible to get out without stumbling, the things that I've thought since the first time you've ever looked at me, the things that have nothing to do with how your lips feel against mine or the way I fall asleep at night thinking of you with my first thought in the morning being your name. This is my way of telling you that I see you, Aurora Phillips. I see your smile when you think no one's looking, that flash of vulnerability that you're afraid to show, the tenacity you put into your work... people make jokes about mi5 saving the world, but it's fighters like you that do the real work. The things in this book are what I love about you, what I've noticed from the very beginning, what I've come to learn about you and what I see in you every single day. They will stay true whether you put up with me for a thousand more years or kick me out of your life tomorrow. I hope you use this to remind yourself of the strength we all see when it feels like it’s all for nothing.                          Merry Christmas, pretty girl.                                                                        John  Lucas

The remaining pages are filled with various quotes from poems, literature, plays, famous movies and even some of her own headlines and bits of opinion pieces regarding her articles. Some have been cut and pasted, traced by colored pencil or thin markers to make them stand out while others are simply written in black ink or scrawled in a flourishing script of different colors to create a collage of quotes that still can't quite adequately describe what he thinks of her.

The package resting in her hands feels heavy, not just in physical weight but also with the weight of expectation, of the burden of some sort of deeper meaning that seems to linger upon Lucas’s expressive features as he waits silently for her to unwrap the gift. It makes her a little nervous, if she’s honest - their history has taught her to approach situations like this with caution, that danger can appear when you least expect it and strike like a viper at an exposed underbelly...but in this case the only danger is the potential breaking of a certain spy’s heart if her reaction to his gift is slightly less than what he’s hoping for, her praise not effusive enough to satisfy his need for reassurance. 

It’s a careful web she weaves, one built to protect his feelings from her own slightly less emotional self, knowing that her lack of outward display most certainly doesn’t indicate a lack of appreciation for the gift. 

Taking a deep breath, she begins to peel back the paper that conceals the gift from curious eyes, teeth biting at her bottom lip as the spine of a book is revealed. There are no words printed on it, no identifying marks, so she continues to pull at the wrapping paper until the beautifully crafted sketch book rests in her hands, a puzzling thing that has her raising her gaze to meet his with a question written there that she doesn’t voice aloud. His nod of encouragement is all it takes to get her to open the exquisitely designed cover, scanning the letter on the first page while her teeth sink with greater force into her lower lip, and after a moment she is forced to blink away the moisture that gathers in the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over with each word that she reads.

The fight to keep her tears at bay is lost when she turns the pages, taking in what must have been hours - no, days of work, the search for clips and the careful transcription of the snippets of poetry and prose that he’s placed with the utmost care upon each page breaking through that wall she’d built long ago to protect her fragile heart, the obvious evidence of his love spelled out for her in a way that is both beautiful and undeniable. Trembling fingers trace over the pages as if they’re rare and precious things...and to her, they are. 

Finding her voice at last, Aurora looks up from the book, blinking away the blur of tears to focus on his features as he stands waiting for her judgment. “Lucas, I...” she gives a slow shake of her head, a smile breaking through the tears as she clutches the book to her chest. “No one has ever done anything like this for me before. I love it. I...” another pause, this time a thick swallow filling the empty space in her words before her soft voice rises once more. “I love you. Thank you.”

#spynorth #v. modern canon #me? answering Christmas things in the middle of January? #more likely than you think #i hope this is okay baby #and that you can work with it #if you so choose ;-) #i love you <33

[scribblingplace]

Have a Quick Lucy Westenra Head shot Alternate versions below the cut.

I’m really messing around with colouring and line art and I don’t know which one I like most.

#I'm working on a new colouring style #using the flat brush #also leaving some pencil sketch exposed #tell me what you think #Dracula #Lucy Westenra #FanArt #Drawing #portfolio

[angryschnauzer]

He’s A Keeper

Summary: Working as an artist hired by Durrell Zoo, you spend your days sketching the day to day life of the animals and the keepers. One keeper in particular catches your eye.

Pairing: AU Zookeeper Henry Cavill x Female Reader (no race or size mentioned)

Fandom: Henry Cavill

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Friends to Lovers, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Fingering, Safe Sex/Use of Condoms, Realistic Sex/Relationship discussion, Vaginal Sex.

Typo’s are allowed to run wild and free, only the finest organic free range fuck ups for me.

I do not operate a tag list, but if you follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and hit ‘notifications’, you’ll get an alert every time i post something new. Back catalogue/masterlist can be found there and also on AO3

He’s A Keeper

Working the pencils over the sketchpad you quietly captured the beauty of the animals the zookeepers had nursed back to full health, the Ruffed Lemur currently hanging off the keepers arm as he spoke through the headset to the group of excited school children watching through the glass. 

You’d been hired by the zoo to capture day to day life at the zoo throughout the summer season, drawing the animals and the humans, however there was one particular human you had found yourself drawn to numerous times, and that was the rather tasty zookeeper by the name of Henry. He also had one of the sexiest voices you’d ever had the pleasure to listen to, so as he explained about the Lemur’s your mind wandered, as did your gaze;

“... originally from Madagascar, and have been part of Durrell zoo since 1982 where they have been essential to the breeding program…”

Your mind fell even further into the gutter at the word ‘breeding’, your eyes raking down Henry’s body, taking in how the branded t-shirt clung to his chest before tapering down to a narrow waist where it was neatly tucked into cargo pants that did little to hide how thick his thighs were and a pert arse you could bounce a satsuma off of. Biting the end of the pencil you had all but given up drawing, only realising that the talk was over when the group of school children were being herded onto the next exhibit by their tour guide and teachers.

When the kids had disappeared you finally got back to drawing, watching as Henry finished up feeding the Lemur’s before he met your gaze and smiled at you. Tapping your pencil on the glass he frowned and shook his head, before smiling and pointing to the sign in the corner of the window that said ‘do not tap the glass’, getting closer you tried to mouth your words to him, but was surprised when his eyes went wide in almost shock, before looking down and realising you had pressed your chest to the glass, your low cut cami top helping to accentuate your cleavage. When you looked up again he was gone and you let out a sigh of disappointment, before he appeared through a door to the side of the viewing area;

“Hi” he had a smile that could charm the panties off a nun; “Did you want me?”

“God yes…” Oh fuck, did you say that out loud?; “Sorry, i mean, you’ve dropped the foam bit off your headset...”

He glanced into the enclosure just at the moment one of the larger Lemur’s picked up the small round piece of foam and staring straight at Henry, proceeded to rip it into tiny pieces.

“Furry little fucker…” he cursed under his breath before turning back to you, but before he could say anything a group of other keepers came walking in and soon you were hanging onto the periphery of their conversation where they were discussing going for drinks after work. Moving to pack your stuff up as you presumed they weren’t including you, but a call of your nickname drew your attention;

“Hey Da Vinci, you up for a few beers after work?”

You hesitated to answer, glancing at Henry who had a smile across his face and a hopeful look in his eye;

“We’re all going…”

“Ok, yeah sure, that’d be great” you agreed. 

-

An hour later you were sitting on the wall outside the main entrance waiting for the rest of the keepers to finish their shifts, smiling as you saw them coming out of the doors, and the ensuing 10 minutes that followed as people sorted out who was driving and how many people could fit into just a couple of small cars. As spaces were allocated Henry laughed and shook his head;

“I am NOT riding five up in a Renault Clio, i’m too tall, i’ll have to fold myself in half! Where are we going anyway, i can take my bike and just walk home after”

Waiting as everyone discussed location and finished off seat allocation, they’d finally decided when Henry turned to you;

“Hey, i think the last seats are in the stoner wagon…”

“Oh…” you didn’t have anything against anyone smoking pot, but didn’t fancy being in a car you could barely see out of the windows of.

“But you can ride with me on my bike?”

Looking to where Henry was pointing, you saw a fairly large trails bike, the kind that could go 50mph over rough land and through forests;

“I… I don’t have a helmet…”

“Wait here, let me run into the locker room and grab the spare i keep here”

Everyone else pulled away as Henry ran into the zoo, and you glanced at the bike. You’d never been on a motorbike before, so this would be a first. Stowing everything loose in your backpack, you hooked it over both shoulders just as Henry reemerged from the building, swinging his keys from one finger as he came to stand in front of you;

“Hey, thanks for waiting”

“No worries! So, where are we going again?”

“The pub in Rozel does good food and pulls a great pint” he nodded to his left and you saw a row of motorbikes; “You ever ridden?”

Shaking your head you laughed; “No, never”

He carefully helped you put the helmet on, his nimble fingers helping to secure the strap beneath your chin before putting his own on and climbing onto the bike, pushing it off the kick stand and nodding for you to climb on. You tried to sit back, but he wrapped his arm behind his back and pulled you flush to his body;

“Gotta hold on tight, otherwise you’ll throw the balance off. Lean when i lean and just squeeze a bit harder if you’re scared, the ride won’t take long” he shouted over the thrum of the noisy engine idling.

The ride down to the small village of Rozel had been exhilarating, from the vibration of the motorbike between your legs to the way you were able to wrap your arms around Henry’s waist and cling to him as he hurtled around the country roads at what seemed like warp speed, when in fact it was little more than 30mph. By the time you arrived in the small fishing cove your heart was racing and you actually let out a reluctant moan at the thought of removing your arms from around Henry’s waist.

“C’mon” he grinned as he helped you off the bike; “I’ll buy you a vodka and coke to calm your nerves”

“It wasn’t nerves” you muttered to yourself, smirking as you know he heard you.

-

The group had managed to find a cluster of small tables chairs and benches in the corner of the pub beer garden, and as the sun had set behind the hills to the rear of the pub, the cold Atlantic sea had glowed in pale blues and pinks. You were squashed into a bench with Henry on one side and another enormous hulk of a keeper on the other, and as the temperature had dropped you’d found yourself thankful that Henry had casually rested his arm behind you so you could leech some of his warmth, but it didn’t stop a violent shiver involuntarily running up your spine.

“Cold?” Henry asked quietly, before gently wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close; “Any better?”

You nodded and let out a very quiet whine as you smiled at him, completely surrounded by his scent and warmth. It made your stomach do a flip and you clenched your thighs together, something that didn’t get past Henry as your leg twitched against his thigh. Before either of you could say anything an enormous bowl of cheesy fries was set down between you, your stomach growling at the aroma’s that wafted around you as it turned out someone had ordered sharing bowls for the whole table.

With the meal mostly devoured as you’d sat side by side on a small wooden bench in the pub garden, laughing as you fed each other and strings of cheese hung from your fingers. As the giggles of a joke faded away you glanced at Henry’s almost finished pint;

“Hey, you aren’t planning on riding that bike home are you?”

“Nah, i’d never drive after a pint, let alone three… my place is just behind The Navigator restaurant…” he paused; “Oh god, where are you staying, do i need to call you a taxi?”

“No no, i’m renting a studio up the hill, on the hairpin bend”

“Oh…” 

It wasn’t a bad ‘oh’ and there was definitely something loaded in the subtext, so when people had started to leave and arrange ride’s back to St Helier and St Johns it felt natural for Henry to stand with his arm around your shoulders as you both waved everyone off.

“Can i walk you home?” he asked, his voice low and full of promise, and you nodded as he slid his hand into yours, leading you along the low coast road that skirted the harbour.

-

You hadn’t gotten far before the evening turned even better, a brief suggestion of a walk along the beach as the tide was out soon had your feet in soft sand as you were pressed to the weathered stone of the sea wall, Henry’s lips on your neck as your fingers dug into his back, his teeth nipping and biting at whatever exposed flesh he could find. You hadn’t even realised he was going lower until he was on his knees in front of you, those sea blue irises staring up at you as he pressed kisses to your legs where your shorts ended. His fingers softly rested on the button and he finally spoke, his voice low and thick with lust;

“May i?”

Nodding fervently you bit your lip as you watched him slowly unbutton you, pulling the garment down your legs until you were able to step out. Never breaking eye contact he lifted your leg and gently rested it on his shoulder, pressing open mouthed kisses up your inner thigh until his face was pressed against your panties and his wide tongue worked against the soaked cotton and lace. His finger crooked beneath them and tugged the scrap of fabric to the side, seeking out your clit before tracing down to your cunt and tenderly teasing the entrance.

“Henry… please…” you whined, desperate for more

“Don’t you worry, i’m gonna make you see stars…”

Pushing his head forwards his lips caught your clit as he slowly slid two fingers into your soaked channel. You let out a long groan at the feel of his lips and fingers finding the right spot immediately, his other hand cupping the back of your thigh before he ran it around your hip and caught your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as he quickly drove you closer and closer to the edge with that added touch of intimacy. Suddenly he hummed against your clit and the world exploded, making you cum so hard you truly did see stars as a white heat bloomed in your belly and you rode Henry’s fingers until you were spent.

As you rested against the wall behind you he carefully withdrew his fingers, licking them clean as he tugged your shorts up your legs. You couldn’t help but to notice the obscene bulge in the front of his cargo pants, your hand rubbing over the smooth curve of it;

“You keep doing that and i’ll cum in my boxers… “ he panted out, his lips inches from yours; “What’s your room like?”

“Its a little summer cabin studio right at the end of the garden, away from the other holiday rentals and the main house… what about you…”

“Shared flat with two other guys from the zoo. They’re probably drinking in the lounge right now… so, your place?”

-

Unlocking the door you stepped inside and turned on a small lamp, standing aside so Henry could come into your small summer living space.

“Mmm nice” he nodded and looked around; “Wanna give me the tour?”

You snorted out a laugh at the formality, and held your arm out;

“Well this is the kitchen area, right next door we have the smallest shower room in Jersey, and here’s the bed” you didn’t need to take a single step for the ‘tour’, the room seeming even smaller as Henry took a single stride and wrapped his arm around your back, pulling you flush with his chest. Never breaking eye contact he gently trailed a single finger over your cheek, his thumb brushing your plump bottom lip;

“Are you going to be good for me?”

Your legs almost buckled at the deep baritone of his voice, igniting something within you that you hadn’t even known existed, eagerly nodding;

“Yes Sir”

Lowering his lips to yours he kissed you, his tongue pushing past your lips as he took control, walking the pair of you back until your legs hit the bed and you fell back onto the soft unmade covers. Covering your body with his, he quickly stripped you of your clothing, his mouth trailing behind his hands so every inch of you was gifted with a kiss. 

Standing between your legs he pulled his t-shirt over his head and you couldn’t help but to moan at the sight of his body; toned and just the right amount of hair on his chest and a treasure trail on his abdomen that surely led to untold riches. Quickly sitting up your hands joined his on his button to his cargo pants;

“May i?”

Henry released his hands and nodded, watching as you carefully plucked the button before lowering the zipper painfully slowly, his boxers tented obscenely and you couldn’t help but to cup him in your palm, the searing heat of his engorged cock a welcome feel in your hands, the wide mushroom head clearly visible through the stretched fabric. Unceremoniously tugging the rest of his clothing down, you felt yourself getting wetter as his beautiful cock was finally revealed; big, thick and uncut, you had to taste him and quickly ducked your head forwards, swallowing his head between your lips as his hands flew to your hair to steady himself.

Now it was your turn to drive him crazy with your mouth, taking him as deep as you could even though it was barely half of his length, you wrapped both hands around what was left, the thick root of his shaft filling both palms. A few more pumps and he pulled his hips back with a gasp, a trail of spittle hanging from your lips to his bulbous tip;

“If you keep doing that i’m gonna cum far too soon…” he said, his voice shaking; “Lay back and let me treat you right…”

Scooting up the bed you settled against the pillows as you watched Henry shed himself of the rest of his clothing, his boots and socks hooked off, cargo pants and underwear all left in a messy pile at the side of the bed, before he crawled up the mattress like a Panther stalking its prey.

Capturing your lips for another searing kiss, you felt his hot shaft against your belly, burning against your skin and you so desperately wanted to feel him inside you. Pulling away just slightly you were already breathless;

“Just a second…” reaching for the small drawer at side of the bed you pulled out an unopened box of condoms, Henry sitting back on his knees as you ripped the box’s cellophane open with your teeth and pulled out a small foil packet, tearing it open before smoothing the latex over Henry’s shaft. Looking up to his face he wore a rather sheepish smile;

“Sorry, shoulda’ thought of that”

“S’ok, a girl’s gotta keep sharp these days…”

“Right…” he met your gaze; “But you know, if you had gotten pregnant, i would have stood by you”

“Umm thanks? But its for STD’s. I’m on the pill”

“Oh… good thinking…”

A tense pause hung over the pair of you, before you reached up and rested your hand on his chest;

“Shall we continue?”

At your words the tension in the room suddenly dissipated, Henry kissing you as he slid a hand between your bodies so he could position himself at your entrance, groaning as he pushed in slowly breaching your body. Your tight channel hugged him tight, unfamiliar with such a size splitting your walls so he paused, pressing light kisses to your face as your body grew accustomed with his size and the heavy weight of his dick in your pillowy soft embrace. Finally you moaned out his name;

“Henry… please…”

“What do you need?”

“Move… please move. Fuck me, please”

Pushing up on his forearms he started to fluidly move his hips, slow and steady, each thrust was gentle but firm, your body yielding to him as he started to increase the pace, the sound of hot bodies meeting filling the small wooden cabin as the gentle sounds of the sea not far away filled the rest of the night. Soft moans spilled from your lips at the feel of his body playing yours like a delicate instrument, waiting for the chorus and the inevitable crescendo. But he was going to play the entire symphony first, knowing how to get you to sing the high notes as the thrum of your bodies were in tune with each other completely.

With the stretch of his girth and the way the curve of it meant he was able to find your g-spot with every thrust you were fast approaching your orgasm, your body trembling as your lips found a life of their own;

“Henry… please, so good… keep doing that… oh god, i’m gonna cum…”

“That’s it, my good girl, cum on my cock, let me feel you squeezing me so tight… feel so amazing right now… that’s it, you can do it…”

With a cry you came, your legs wrapped around his waist as you pulled him deep whilst your body shook with a fierce orgasm, triggering his own as he pumped a heavy load into the condom.

Finally spent, Henry settled on top of you, his weight a heavy comfort as your sweaty bodies lay skin to skin, the gentle roughness of his chest hair against your naked breasts a tender reminder of his virility. When he started to soften he finally shifted, holding the condom at the base as he pulled out and staggered the few steps to your small bathroom;

“I’ll be back in a second, gotta sort this out…”

The door closed and you shifted on the bed, pulling the duvet back and sliding between the sheets, listening as you heard the tell tale sound of a man urinating and the high pitched, double barrelled squeak of a fart. The flush of the toilet and water running soon after meant you knew the second he would reappear, a flannel in his hand and he stopped dead, his cheeks suddenly bright crimson;

“You heard that didn’t you?”

“It's a small wooden cabin… yes i did”

“Sorry” he approached the bed and with a warm flannel he carefully cleaned between your thighs, pressing a kiss to your lips as he did. When finished he sat on the side of the bed; “Can i stay the night, or did you want me to go?”

“Have you got work tomorrow?”

“Nope. You?”

“Nope. Please, stay”

He quickly threw the flannel into the sink in the bathroom, before with a giggle climbed under the duvet and pulled you into his arms;

“So, how many more condom’s you got?”

-

The morning light broke softly through the trees that surrounded your cabin, your body sore but sated, knowing every bruise and ache came from soft lips, sharp teeth, or skilled fingers, apart from that one ache deep inside that you knew exactly what had caused that delicious soreness, and the owner and cause of all of it still softly slept in your bed. Climbing out you quickly used the bathroom, and as you came back into the room the artist in you couldn’t help but to admire how the dappled morning light cascaded over Henry’s body. Slipping his work t-shirt over your head you pulled your sketchbook from your backpack and settled onto the only chair in the room, quietly working carbon to paper.

Henry woke 45 minutes later, the gentle scratching of your art making him squint at the bright daylight, before laying back on the pillows with his arms spread;

“Still life class?”

Setting your sketchbook down you padded across the room and climbed onto the bed;

“Sorry, i couldn’t help myself… the way the sun was hitting the muscles of your back and shoulders, you were like an anatomy masterpiece”

With a laugh and moving much quicker than you thought he was possible of, he grabbed you by the waist and turned you, his body atop of yours;

“Well that’s enough of that, i would like to become better acquainted with your anatomy… and as we’ve both got the day off i suggest we make the most of it”

Laughing you fell into his embrace, sighing with happiness. Henry really was a keeper, as you were for sure not going to let him go. 

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x you #henry cavill fanfiction

[celestialgaea]

1. I LOVE your writing! You're amazing! 2. If it's not too much trouble, could I request something for brotherhood Ezio - either fluff or smut (maybe a hybrid if such a thing exists?)

These requests really make my heart soft :,) It’s definitly not troublesome at all, darling! a smut/fluff is coming your way :)) enjoy reading! 

btw, I always had the concept in mind of Ezio being a nude model for a painter/paintress so I used it as inspiration for this request, I hope you like it!

Pairings: Brotherhood!Ezio x Reader

warnings: smut, fluff, mature content

summary: Ezio convinces you of using his nude body as reference for your painting and that’s where things start to get heated.

A sound of raging growls left your throat as it was the sixth time you scratched away the slender torso that was sketched upon the parchment. It was slender, too slender for it to be still considered human. Ironic. The Greek gods were inhuman, but you were unable to project the divine muscles that roamed in your thoughts onto the piece of dried lamb skin. You missed Florence, dearly, and since the first week that you had left the vivid city to live in the unknown town of Monteriggioni you thought that the quiet farms, where trees of oranges grew, would help revive the inspiration to paint a Magnum Opus but it only dried the river of colour in your head. You couldn’t compare Florence to a third rate town as Monteriggioni. You could still recall the smell of paint and the dusty marmer that stained the Florentin air of the market, and the sight of novices carrying their painting supplies as they were on their way to class. You missed how you used to visit churches, not to pray, but rather to admire the fresco’s. Now it was all gone. No inspiration and the few churches that existed in this village were sober and only consisted of a giant crucifix and a statue of Madonna holding her child.

bang bang. Someone knocked on the door of your atelier. With a dissatisfied grunt you threw the charcoal pencil on the ground and shoved your seat back with a strong force, causing an abrasive sound to be heard from outside the small building.

‘Who is there?’ You asked sharply as you walked towards the wooden door. You tried to regain your patience and freshened your cheeks, which was red of annoyment, by pressing your abnormally cold palms against them. 

‘It’s me, Ezio.’ His voice was unclear due to the door that seperated you, but it did not spoil the low rumble that was always present in his speech. You pressed your eyelids together rather harshly and groaned in regret. How shameful musn’t it be to shoot invisible daggers towards Ezio as just the thought of his intimidting gaze locked on your face after your scene of lost temper made you wish you hid instead of confronting him. You weren’t scared of him, you were scared of embaressment.

You opened the door to the sight of Ezio leaning against the doorframe, one eyebrow arched in question. 

‘I came to check up on you, ragazza. It sounded as if you were fighting off pirates in there.’ You felt how your face heated up against your will and you tried to laugh it of with a breathless snicker. ‘The only thing I was fighting with were my sketches,’ You stepped aside, exposing a part of your artist studio. It was not big, as it was perfect to fit in a few tables and art easels with canvasses of variating sizes, but it was practical enough to be able to craft in peace. But it seems that the serene peace wasn’t present anymore these past weeks.

‘Where are my manners, come in.’ With a faint smile he swiftly entered and closed the door. 

‘Lack of inspiration?’ He asked. You nodded. ‘Not only that, It is impossible to find any references to bodies as muscled as those of the Greek Gods. Monteriggioni isn’t filled with art as in Firenze, thus making it difficult for me to find those references.’ As you looked at him from the side, you saw how perfect his body posture was to be used as reference; It was flexible and broad, yet it was intimidating and yet not graceful enough to be that of a dancer. 

Ezio hummed in understanding. He was slightly proud that he still had the ability to make you blush, even in his forties, when he caught your eyes wandering through his clothing.  ‘Why don’t you use models like Leonardo does? You could ask him to lend some to you,’ You grinned. ‘Ezio, my dear. The only references to human bodies that Leonardo uses are either dug up from their grave or strangers with the most inhuman facial complexion. Leonardo is fascinated by the misshapen, not the divine.’ 

‘Well, if the ancient Greeks believed that women were the misshapen copies of men, then I confirm myself as being fascinated by the misshapen. My dear.’ He mocked. His lips curled into a sly smirk and he winked at you, but you merely scoffed playfully as you shook your head and walked towards the chaotic scene that played upon your desk; Scattered parchment with incomplete sketches, charcoal pencils and quills thrown all over the table and, at the moment, irrelevant attributes such as a skull and a terracotta bust of Bacchus -A marmer bust was way too expensive for the meager loan you had to live with-

‘Charmed.’ You said, not impressed. Maybe slightly impressed.

‘As I thought you would be,’ 

The open space of the studio behind you felt enclosed as the soft touch of Ezio’s breath caressed the nape of your neck. His eyes roamed over the table, observing every object -he even squatted down and stared into the dead eyes of Bacchus-, and trailed alongside the lines of your sketches with his middle and index finger pressed together, the two fingers levitating above the charcoal lines.

‘Why did you scratch them? It is beautiful. Well, I am not going to lie, it looks a bit...how should I word it?’ He mumbled. ‘Bad?’  ‘A bit out of proportion,’ He trailed alongside the torso with the same two fingers. ‘See,’ Ezio said. ‘The torso is a bit too long, and the muscles are too muscled.’

You scoffed, a small laugh plastered on your face. ‘Too muscly,’ You mumbled to yourself. ‘Ezio, I don’t know if you have noticed but I do not have any male models nor have I seen a man naked before. No, I mean, not that I am a virgin. But I just haven’t seen a naked man with the right size.’ Good Lord. Ezio grinned, not ashamed for the innapropriate phrase that kept resonating in his head, and locked eyes with you as he raised one eyebrow. You shivered. It was that one raised eyebrow that made his face so intimidating, so intense. ‘Not the right size, huh?’

‘You know what I mean, old man.’ He scoffed. His hand covered his breast and he pretended to be in pain. ‘You wound me with your words, bella.’ 

Oh Ezio. He was so entertaining. He was probably one of the very few reasons your stay in Monteriggioni will last for a very long time. Leaving him would make you feel empty. Ezio had a way of pulling women (and also men) towards him, chaining them with such a scorching desire that it would feel injust and even sinful to break the invisible attraction He brought those small moments of thrills and excitement with him whenever he just walked by making you want his attention to be focused on you and solely you.

‘I could send an apprentice of mine to model, but only if you’d like?’ ‘Are they quite muscled? I need a body that represents the gods and not 17 year old boys who are only interested in horses and girls.’ ‘No, judging by the statues I have seen in Florence they wouldn’t be a very great choice. And besides, I don’t think that they can stand still, naked, for a few hours while a beautiful lady has a clear view of their cazzo without, you know, the visuals showing their excitement.’

Your facial expressions showed slight disgust as you were imagining their erect member and face, reddened with shame, while they were posing as one of the Greek deities. Well, to be fair, you couldn’t expect less. They were boys with raging hormones, and you were a young adolescent that was not able to conceil her raging hormones from experienced and charming men. Or shortly said; Ezio. 

Speak of the devil. 

Ezio noticed the disgust on your face and emitted a low and rumbling snicker as he patted your back, the impact of his force causing your shoulder to be shoved forwards. ‘Keep your sneaky little mind away from my apprentices private parts will you?’

‘Ezio!’ You hit his arm, your mouth open and pretending to be shocked by his remark, but you couldn’t help but curl your mouth into a smile. ‘Back to our previous topic,’ You said, recovering from what just had happened. ‘I really need to find a male model for my project, Ezio.’  Ezio happened to show empathy with you as he began taking off his boots. 

‘Ezio, what in heaven are you doing? Put those back on! Ezio what are you thinking?’ Nailed to the floor you looked at ezio who was only wearing his trousers and chemise, its string loosened and showing the flesh upon his chest, and had his hands on the sides of the edge of his pants, ready to take them of and show the world what momma gave him. ‘I am sacrificing my pride for the sake of your painting.’

Your eyes widened. ‘Would you do that for me? Really?’ ‘Bella, what does it look like I am doing?’ He grinned, taking off the rest of his clothing as you had turned around to reorganize your table and prepared the small podium on which Ezio had to model.

‘And besides, what did you mean with Sacrificing your pride?’ You heard Ezio sigh while you sharpened your charcoal pencils. ‘All these men on Classical paintings have a...well, you know, a small penis, so you will have to reduce mine...a lot.’ You laughed, placing the pencils on the table. ‘Oh, Ezio, I don’t really think it will be necessary.’ You said teasingly. You sat down behind the desk when you heard his voice floating around your ears as he walked towards the small podium, every inch of his skin exposed for you and only you. ‘Prego?’ 

It was difficult to keep your gaze off his private part. It was just...hanging there,  minding its bussiness. It was as if your insulting remark about his member just spat back at you with double as much spit. You managed to clear your throat in a subtle way without choking on your saliva. ‘You’ll have to lay down.’ You said. You stood up to grasp a few layers of cloth to cover the small stage to save Ezio’s behind a bit from the harsh ground. It felt weird to be so near him; He was naked and you were clothed. 

You quickly smoothened the cloth onto the stage, fixating your disorientated eyes on it, and walked, almost ran, with rapid speed back to your desk.

It still felt like a fever dream. You were able to get the most skilled murderer fully naked in front of you, without asking once. As it felt surreal, it simutaniously felt forbidden too. He was way older, a teacher of a kind, how many women wouldn’t have killed for this chance. For seeing Ezio naked, almost vulnurable without his armour. Vulnurable for attack as told by the white lining of the remaining scars on his body. 

‘Lay down and lean on your elbows,’ And so he did. ‘Put one knee up. No the other knee, Ezio. Not so high, go a bit lower. Not that low. Yes, stay like that!’ Ezio grinned softly. ‘You are very demanding, aren’t you bella?’ ‘You iniated on being my model, Ezio,  so do as I say.’  Ezio raised an eyebrow as he tilted his head, sucking air through his teeth, sounding similar to scorching metal in cold water. ‘My apologies, maestro.’ 

His body was beautiful. Not too brawny and not fat. Broad muscles showing through his skin and simultaneously a layer of soft fat hugged around his torso, but it didn’t hang nor did it seem loose, It was tight and gave Ezio’s body comfortable for burning cuddles. 

You gave a last look at Ezio’s position, observing it, but something felt wrong. It felt plain, flat. It didn’t have your desired dimentions. 

‘Ezio,’ He turned his head towards you. ‘Could you touch the ground with your left hand and move your torso towards your lifted knee. Let your right arm rest upon that raised knee, yes, just like that.’ It was better. More rounded than flat. And the most beautiful of all was how above his pubic hair, which was trimmed, small layers of skin bundled upon each other, giving more dimention to his body.

You picked up the stylus - a metal pen- with satisfaction and began carving lines onto the parchment. Those lines slowly became basic shapes until more shade and more complexity was added to them. Ezio’s eyes kept sailing from around the room to your concentrated face. It must be intimidating for him whenever it took only fractions of seconds before you raised your eyes to look at him every single time. And every time he wondered how many seconds it would last this time before you watched him again. 

‘Do you do this a lot? Using nude models?’ Ezio asked. You stood halt in your drawing to look up at him. ‘Well, No. Back in Firenze I was too ashamed to ask for one. If the word would spread about a women making a carreer out of brush strokes instead of a man stroking her to let her bear him a son, they’d burn my paintings. And they may burn my paintings, but i’ll still use the ashes to draw a big cazzo on the front door of their homes.’  You said, slightly flinching at the thought of your face being tortured by the sweltering flames that are devouring your art works. Ezio laughed. His wide-opened mouth created deep curving lines next to it, sparkling eyes squinting at you. 

How did he do it? How was he capable of making you desire him with just a smile. A smile of confidence. A smile of which hundreds of women fell for. Let alone how his body would call for company as melancholy and charm hung like a perfume around him. 

‘Eccezionale,’ He grinned in a breath. ‘And in Monteriggioni?’ ‘The average male in this village is almost expired. They’re at least fifthy.’ 

‘You don’t older men?’ He asked teasingly. Yes you did, especially him. ‘There is a difference between older and old. Old men are almost expired. Older men, on the other hand, are more matured and experienced.’ 

With a last look at the sketch you laid down the stylus and motioned for Ezio to move again. You quickly added some shadows around the sillhouette around the body as you felt Ezio stand behind you. 

‘And what is “older” to you?’  ‘You ask a lot of Questions, Ezio. Aren’t you  Il mentore?’ His broad shoulders casted a shadow on your cheek that was turned to his side. ‘I’m curious. Isn’t a man allowed to ask questions? Especially if he’s as expired as me?’ You scoffed.

‘Ezio, you are not expired. You aren’t old.’

‘I’ll be turning fifthy in five years.’

‘That’s still ages away from now.’

‘Time flies, bella.’

‘Well, mentore, I don’t perceive you as old. In fact, you are mature and very sharp.’ You stole a quick glance of his private part before letting your gaze wander towards the floor. How was he able to keep himself so tame when the tension was creating a heated knot in your lower stomach? The knot kept contracting with every breath from Ezio’s soft lips that brushed against your neck and the radiating heat from his naked body caused by the Florentine sun that tortured his skin underneath the layers of his heavy assassin robes. 

You turned around, trapped in between the wooden desk and Ezio’s nudeness, and placed a hand on his bicep. ‘How aren’t you burned yet underneath all those layers of clothing.’ Your eyes locked with his. ‘I have very thick skin,’ He palmed your hand in his and lead it down his muscular arm, rubbing against its hot skin, let it follow the curves of his muscles back up to his chest. You didn’t even need to glance down to see that his good old friend has “awakened”. 

Ezio’s hand caressed your collarbone and slid down, only to stop at the cleavage of your gown. With his index finger he easily pulled the piece of fabric away from your chest, exposing your breasts that were visible through the thin night gown. 

He hummed in satisfaction.

Ezio disposed you of your clothes in a slow and agonizing manner until your naked body was hugged by the warm air that filled the art studio. His eyes, filled with passionate lust, wandered over your whole body, absorbing every inch of naked skin.  Ezio pressed his body close to you and you felt how his manhood, swollen with blood, was pressed against your stomach. Ezio kissed your lips. His lips covering your upper lip as you softly nibbled on his bottom lip. His tongue wetted the entrance of your mouth before the warmth of his saliva got mixed with yours. Ezio’s hands roamed your whole body, he wanted to take all of you, touch all of you, feel every piece of your hot skin lingering against his. His hands trailed back to your upper thighs and rubbed them as his fingers curled to grip the soft flesh of it. His warm hands felt rough and experienced against your inner thighs, it felt like everything that desire is. 

Ezio pulled your legs around his waist and carried you the the small improvised podium of layered blankets as his one hand held the fold at the backside of your knee and the other was pressed against your lower back. 

You couldn’t describe how overwhelmed you where with all these sensory feelings. Your contracting stomach, heating core and tickling neck, caused by Ezio’s lips and teasing nips, made you close your eyes and press your legs tighter around his torso. You pressed yourself against Ezio while you yearned for his body engulfing yours in this passionate warmth as Ezio’s hot breaths left humid spots on your neck. 

His lips kissed your collarbone and so he went down with smouldering and slow kisses down to the curve in between the mounds of your breasts. His hand cupped your breast and massaged your nipple with his thumb as his mouth place kisses on the side of your other breast before tracing to your nipple and holding it between his lips. 

your breathing became irregular, some were sharp and some were pitched. Your hands took a grip on Ezio’s broad back and you couldn’t help but groan in a breath. His body slid down on yours until he stopped above your pubic bone, a trail of saliva covered your torso. Ezio placed your legs on his shoulders, holding onto your thighs, and he breathed so softly against your humid entrance. 

It felt tingly and increased your need for him to touch you. Ezio’s fingers caressed your labia as his hot and humid tongue slid up your crease. Your breath hitched. His lips covered your clit, his beard tickling your inner thighs, kissing it before taking it between his lips and sucking on it. You groaned. Your clit was pusling and you felt how your entrance was filled with so much ecstasy. Ezio kept licking, nibbling and just making you feel on cloud nine until you felt how tension was layering and building up in your core and you felt how it was almost going to explode in bright colours of the sweet relieve. But Ezio stopped before you could taste that pure sweetness and how much you disliked it, the builded up tension slowly died down.

‘Why did you stop?’ You asked defeatedly. Ezio smirked. ‘I want us to finish together,’ You were surprised. ‘Because I can’t wait any longer to be inside of you.’  Ezio slid back up so his lips could reach your mouth again. You enveloped your leg around his waist and Ezio gripped the fold of your knee, slowly pressing your thigh against your chest. 

He groaned as the tip of his manhood entered slowly. He stopped after a few inches of his manhood had entered so you’d adapt to his lenght and width and began pumping slowly before he’d let his whole penis enter inside of you inch by inch. He filled you so good.

Ezio began pumping in and out between your slick walls and went rougher. The sweetness and lust of the moment made both of your groan in synch. But the more he motioned inside of you, the more your groans became heartfelt moans. You grabbed ezio’s back as you bit on his shoulder. With every push and every thrust of his body against yours the sinful sounds of hitting skin was like background music for the hymn of your moans. Ezio grabbed your thigh and pushed himself deeper, which you doubt was still possible, and the poor man was lost in deep groans. He kept you close to him as he filled you until the building up layers made you speed up, shortening the silence between every clap of skin. ‘Ezio,’ You whispered in lost sweetness. The more tension that build up, the more the yearning for that sweet relieve became. ‘(Y/N),’ He groaned in your ear, huskily. 

Only a few strokes and you were there, both of you. Oh, sweet Lord, how you were losing your mind in a blurr of white light. Just those few last strokes and you’d explode. You were almost there...almost...and ‘Ezio!’ The ball of squeezed tension exploded into a firework of sweetness and fire. Ezio came inside of you with squeezed eyes and a groan before he let himself relax onto you. Your chests were elevating in an irregular rythm. 

‘Mio Dio,’ You whispered in amazement. Ezio slid out of you and took the excess length of the cloth to cover both of you.

‘So when are you free to come back? To finish the painting?’ 

‘Very soon, Bella, very soon.’

#ezio auditore da firenze #ezio auditore #ezio auditore fanfiction #assassins creed fanfiction #assassins creed brotherhood #ezio x reader #older ezio x reader #smut fanfiction #ezio auditore smut

[sungie]

𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐦𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐲𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐬

𝐚/𝐧: this is the first of my haikyuu! pieces, and i hope it helps make some of you like me who’ve been dealing with depression feel a little bit better.  kenma would love you so much.  thank you for reading!

- - 

kenma is the first to notice when something’s wrong 

suddenly you’re smiling a little too much.  and sure, you’ve always had a dry sense of humor, but this? this is different.  

he notices when your laugh seems hollow, almost.  and he notices it again when he looks at your smile and feels it flickering, and then again, when he watches you walk away, realizing that your gaze looks a little too much like his. and that scares him. 

when the two of you sit together on the bus because you’d tagged along to one of his volleyball games, you gaze blankly at the freeway and turn the volume up on your shared earphones like it’s the only thing that matters, the only thing that’ll drown everything out. and that’s when kenma knows for sure, what’s going on.  at least, only until after he recovers from the blaring ring short-circuiting around his left eardrum. 

kenma won’t tell you he knows, but suddenly he’s everywhere you go. 

kenma’s just ... there.  he’ll sit beside you and greet you with a nod, playing his video games while you’re working on homework.  or at least, as you try to work on homework.  every so often he’ll look up from his game to glance at you with one of his piercing stares, and it feels a little bit like he sees right through you. 

and maybe he does. 

and then, sometimes, if you’re lucky and meet his gaze, you’ll get a rare smile, one that’s slowly starting to become slightly less rare.

kenma starts packing a little extra food for school.  he never brought any before, but sometimes he’ll watch with wide eyes as you’ll tumble into class in disarray, and by the looks of your face, you’ve just managed to down a bit of coffee before running out the front door and into the classroom, a few seconds before the tardy bell.  he doesn’t say anything except reach behind him and place a pre-packaged bread from the convenience store onto your desk. sometimes you’ll catch a glimpse of his face, but usually, he doesn’t turn around. he’s too embarrassed that you’ll find his actions weird.  but he can’t help it.  he cares.

kenma doesn’t really like sharing his video games.  i mean, they’re his. and he doesn’t like sharing. he often finds himself hunching over his switch, or tucking it away when people pass by.  it’s his way of blending in, of making sure people look past him and forget.  but as you come to sit beside him at lunch increasingly more and more often, he simply hands you his phone or portable game console and watches you play with genuine curiosity.  it feels natural. 

the two of you have been close for a while, but you’ve always had your own friend groups. somehow these lines get smudged further and further, and now kenma finds himself waiting for you outside nearby classes, looking up and blinking in confusion to see you standing next to kuroo at their normal space during lunch, waiting for him.  and then you’re even sticking around to walk randomly with him when he doesn’t have practice. 

“it doesn’t matter. i don’t really care,” you say plainly, as kenma asks when you need to get back home or leave to study. 

“you don’t?” he asks, and it’s funny, really.  because kenma feels the same, most days.

“like, what’s the point,” you say, laughing softly.  flippantly.  “i don’t know.  i’m just tired.”

kenma nods.  but then, because he needs to, because he’s worried, “why?” 

“just numb.”  you shrug.  “it’s okay. don’t worry, kenma.”

kenma knows there’s stuff going on, he can see you battling with whether to say something or bottle it up even further, but he also sees a whim of confusion pass over your eyes because deep down, you don’t even know why you feel like this.  it just is.

“come on,” kenma says, finally, cheeks flushed as he dares to lightly tug on your hoodie sleeve.  “yakitori or imagawayaki?” 

later he facetimes you because you’re still up.  he knows this from your response to one of his texts from a few days ago.  it’s now that you tell him you haven’t done any work. it’s two o’clock in the morning.

“but … don’t you have a test tomorrow?” 

“yeah,” you mumble.  “and i haven’t started studying, or homework.”

kenma bites his lip.  “why?”

“i don’t know.  i just can’t.” 

and he sees your easy, exasperated smile, sees the way you’re implying, i’m okay, really, kenma, go to sleep, but he also notices the way your voice catches, the way you’re blinking and staring up at your light, and then, the clench in your jaw. 

“i still have stuff to do,” kenma lies, and he gets up to walk to his desk.  “i’ll stay up with you.”

you nod, grateful, and kenma pretends to be working but doodles lines and spirals on a piece of paper, slowly sketching out the patterns of spirals that directly correlate to attack patterns and combination hits in his game. he doesn’t normally do this.  he doesn’t normally make the effort, but he thinks you need it.  he tells you in a sleep-raspy voice about volleyball practice, and the way the city lights look at night, and the onigiri he wants to buy at the convenience store tomorrow, and do you think you might want one?

he won’t nag you, won’t throw more toxic positivity on you because he knows people do that too much already, and you’re tired of it.  but he keeps talking to you softly, even slowly murmuring whatever comes into his mind because he watches as his voice seems to ground you, and soon you’re picking up your mechanical pencil and writing some notes down while he speaks.

normally it would embarrass him, but right now, half-awake and just knowing that he wants to make sure you’re okay, nothing else matters.  

he falls asleep momentarily, but catches himself and flushes. he’s embarrassed, mind already racing that you’ll expose his lie, but luckily you’re looking down at your schoolwork.  kenma feels something pinch at his heart.

you both stay on the call late into the morning, and soon it’s time to go to school. you’ve managed to get the homework done.  you’re not finished studying, not by a long shot, but it’s something.  and as you tell kenma that, the smile he gives you makes you feel like things are alright.

he’s been over to your house plenty.  and you’re organized, mostly.  but today as the two of you stop by your house to pick up a forgotten textbook, kenma catches a glimpse of your room.  it’s a mess.  more than a mess.  

he’s not stupid, he knows the state of your room reflects your mental state.  and right now?  your room is a disaster.  an absolute fucking disaster. 

he stubbornly won’t let the both of you leave.  he helps you pick up the clothes thrown on the floor and gathers all the dishes and cups from your room, even going to the extent of making your bed, so you don’t have to sleep curled up on the rare expanse of empty floor while he huffs and clears off space on your desk so you can do homework.

he doesn’t know how you manage, like this.  but he also supposes that’s why you’ve been able to hide it for so long, keep going for so long. 

“do you want to talk about it?” kenma asks one day, his eyes contemplating.  trying to figure something out.  thinking.  he doesn’t want to impose, doesn’t want to make things worse, doesn’t want to push you away. 

“about what?”  you shake your head.  “i’m fine.”

“oh,” kenma says, looking away and down at the people walking beneath the overpass.  

“what?” 

“but ... “

and as you wait for him to continue, he shrugs, defeated. 

“you’re not fine.”

you blink at kenma.

the corner of his mouth tugs to the side, and then he hands you his video game console as offering of peace.  “we don’t have to talk about it.  but ... (y/n)?” 

and the way he says your voice is so soft.  kenma doesn’t address you by name often, but when he does, the way it rolls off his tongue makes you feel as if he’s talking about something so special, and you’re afraid to think too much about what it means.

“yeah?” you whisper, your voice caught in your throat.

“i know.  and it’s okay.”

kenma doesn’t meet your gaze, expecting you to take the console and then things will go right back to how they’ve always been, with both of you dancing around this dark cloud that gets heavier and heavier as weeks pass. 

but you’re not taking the console.  slowly, kenma’s gaze flickers back to yours, and his lips part. 

your eyes are changing.  it’s like something he’s said knocked down a few walls.  there’s still a smile on your face, it’s enough to fool most people, but kenma pinpoints the exact second where it starts ghosting away, and now you’re stepping forward and hugging him.  his eyes widen; he lets out a little sound of surprise.  he can feel you trembling, your voice swollen and catching in your throat when you try to say something.  but you don’t have to.  you don’t have to say anything.  

“it’s okay to take your time,” kenma murmurs in a way that’s so him, and gently, like he’s holding his entire world in his palms (because he is), he lets his arms wrap around you and hugs you back.  “it might not be much, but i’m here.”  and then, more fiercely, “and i’m not leaving. i promise.”

it’s very rare that kenma will initiate affection.  it’s even more rare that kenma will hug you back.  but he does it.  and this time, he doesn’t let go.

#kenma #kozume kenma #kenma x reader #kenma imagine #kenma hc #kenma headcanon #kozume kenma x reader #kozume kenma imagine #kozume kenma hc #kozume kenma headcanons #kenma x you #kozume kenma x you #kenma x gn!reader

[writing-fool]

mlqc | let’s hit rewind

What kind of videos would the MLQC guys make if they were YouTubers? I think this is a youtube!au, but to be fair, Kiro probably has a YouTube channel in canon. See it as you will? I won’t really talk about their life outside of YT/internet so you can decide for yourself whether this is an AU or not, and whether they’re a full-time YouTuber or not.

As always, enjoy, and requests are open!

Love,

R.

Warning(s): none

Victor

Victor probably has a cooking channel

scratch that. he absolutely starts as one of those Aesthetic™ cooking channels like Cooking tree, HANSE, Sweet The MI or Nino’s Home.

his channel is called Souvenir because he’s not THAT original you can’t expect everything from a man, people. 

he starts off doing these voiceless cooking videos, but after a voice and face reveal at 2 million followers where he cooks something for his followers as a thanks...well, who wouldn’t want more of that sultry voice and glorious face

currently has about 4 million subscribers

Victor’s channel is kind of comparable to Junskitchen, a rather relaxed, casual atmosphere combined with exquisite, refined cuisine

if he feels like it, he does a voice-over, otherwise he just puts calm jazz, blues or r&b over his cooking

HAS done an ASMR special. low-key dislikes the video because he has to whisper voice-overs but people LOVE it

likes making all kinds of foods, but his channel features quite a lot of sweet foods and desserts because a certain dummy has a sweet tooth

a pretty popular feature during quarantine is Cooking w/ Sou, essentially a live stream where Sou (aka Victor) cooks a whole three-course meal while talking to and instructing his followers

his subscribers notice that he doesn’t really need editing to look clean during cooking because his technique is IMMACULATE

by the end, he’s made a themed dinner for two...which always raises a question mark

is Sou single? does he have a roommate? a girlfriend? a kid? WHAT?

after getting your explicit permission, Victor addresses the situation in one of his recent Q&As

“Why do I always make dinner for two? I have a fiancée, she edits my videos in her spare time. She works as a producer. *you wave your hand over the lens* Dummy.” he breezes over it like it’s no big deal even though he’s a tad nervous about exposing something personal like this

his fans blow up the internet, baffled but not entirely surprised that someone like Sou isn’t a bachelor

of course, some leave hate under the video honestly, people who do this to celebs who start dating are HORRIBLE

most subscribers are super supportive of your relationship and thank you for the editing that makes Souvenir such a well put-together channel...also did he seriously call his fiancée a dummy? such a tsundere!

sometimes, you’ll (well, your hands...we’re keeping a bit of privacy here) even be in the end shot of videos, munching away at the carefully plated food

one day, Sou will be making a video titled Wedding Cake.

Lucien

Lucien’s channel LucidLight is a tad bit all over the place

he’s a man of many talents, and his channel reflects just that

i’m not saying it’s a disorganized channel, because the theme is very much there - the uniform theme in Luci’s content is a cozy background, a cup of tea and a soothing thumbnail

i mean that content-wise, his subscribers don’t really know what they’re going to get next...he has a slightly similar style to the YouTuber simon plant 

his content varies from interesting science theories to poetry reading sessions to ASMR to painting/sketching to cooking and much, much more

he has an heavenly soothing, smooth voice. it’s his trademark since Lucien doesn’t show his face on camera. ever. 

doesn’t have a TON of subs, because his channel is a bit of a niche thing, but I’d say he has 1,2 million subscribers and 400k followers on his added ‘business’ Instagram

he holds a lot of live streams on Instagram/YouTube (i know Moments exists in the game, but that’s more like a Facebook or Twitter kind of app...) and is always shown with just his torso and neck in frame. the lives usually include some poetry reading and generally just having a nice, relaxing chat with his followers. they can last up to 5 hours at once, and YOU know it’s because he doesn’t need sleep like a normal human being, but his fans are still asking questions about his timezone

his subscribers are strangely fascinated by his mysterious, gentle nature and also incredibly obsessed with his large, elegant hands

his ASMR videos are often roleplays of Librarian Lucien or Professor Lucien explaining to people why their rest is important

other times, they include soft affirmations, positive whispers, finger fluttering, hair touching and maybe kissing sounds...

Lucien paints a lot too, although he works primarily with ink and pencil sketches. you’ll find a watercolour or oil painting somewhere, but they’re not his most prominent media

his art videos are usually silent, although he might say something once in a while. there’s always some type of solo instrumental music playing in the background.

he does educational videos about biology and universe theories, but will also have reading sessions about scientific books

not intentionally secretive about your relationship, but he’s not one to mention it either

the first time you appeared on screen was when he was doing another live stream. he’s in his office talking about a play, when you come padding in to bid him goodnight.

“Yes, indeed. Laura’s glass menagerie, as the play suggests, is a symbol of fragility. Laura herself is very frail, but her favourite—”

“Good night, darling.” your soft voice rings through the room. viewers see Lucien’s torso turning a little bit, a hand on his shoulder and a curtain hair appearing from the top of the screen. his hand moves, presumably to cup the person’s cheek, before a soft kiss is heard through the mic. “Sleep tight, my love,” he murmurs.

“Ah. Laura’s favourite glass figurine is the unicorn, which...”

people are in uproar, but Lucien is a strong-willed man who refuses to explicitly announce the nature of his relationship.

his subscribers stop asking after a while, because it really isn’t any of their business, and they now know Lucien’s a taken man

you kind of appear on live streams accidentally a couple more times, but nothing’s really changed about Lucien’s content

the only thing he WILL say, and this is purely to give you credit, is “Ah. The background instrumentals in my art videos are played live. Yes, my lover’s very talented.”

you guys are the mysterious, talented, soft-voiced power couple of YouTube

Gavin

Gavin’s channel probably starts as a joint channel with you, something like Rachel and Jun

it’s relatively obvious from the start that Gavin from Birds&Cops is in a relationship, since you guys have a vlogging-style channel

your channel is filled with gym vlogs, travel vlogs to other countries and a lot of self-defence and sport at home videos. 

you guys also post a lot of funny vlogs talking about your day, going on fun dates, of course food vlogs in restaurants, all that stuff...

you often sit down and talk about your life, and maybe you’ll even do a mukbang during it for someone so fit, Gavin does eat a lot of food. 

Gavin’s channel didn’t blow up right away, because vlogging channels aren’t exactly unique, and he looks like the typical ‘straight boy with a girlfriend’

but he started gaining followers after people noticed how cute and blushy he acts, and how incredibly respectful and caring he is towards you

one of the most popular videos is Boyfriend Does My Makeup and it’s adorable. Gavin’s handling your face with so much care, and comments like “I know what this is, I’ve watched you do it many times.” or “Babe, does it hurt? Should I be more gentle? I’m sorry...my hands are rough.” make everyone SWOON

toxic masculinity left the chat. Gavin loves taking care of you in any way, whether it’s getting pads, chocolate and hot packs during your period or braiding your hair

in those yoga/celebrity fitness routine challenges, subs get to see Gavin in a tight singlet and sweatpants/shorts, and it’s HOLY

you’re very much aware of the attention Gavin receives from female fans, and how lucky you are to have found such a sweet partner

Gavin will usually see this type of comment while scrolling and will turn to you and go “Babe, you know I’m the lucky one here, right?”

anyways, a feature that you do to show fans the extent of Gavin’s sweet personality is Pranking My Boyfriend, where you set up the camera for a harmless prank like pretending to have a nightmare (similar to channels like Farina Jo)

that particular video was so fun to shoot, because it ended up with Gavin softly singing a lullaby to calm you down in his arms

“Baby, wake up. I’m here, you’re safe.” Gavin knows how to deal with panicking people, but he hates this prank afterwards because ‘he didn’t like seeing you in pain’

fans squealed. Birds&Cops gained like 50k subs through that video. the channel’s currently at 999k subscribers

overall, it’s just a really lovely, family-friendly channel

Kiro

Kiro knows his way around the web, alright?

not even just as Key, but he’s had a YouTube channel since the age of 15

his channel, CtrlAltChips is a hit with many people of many, many ages

he streams gaming sessions on Twitch and posts them on his YouTube channel afterwards

other content includes (primarily) covers & original songs, simple talking videos, thrifting & fashion videos, mukbangs and candid dance videos in a studio

think of chloe moriondo, doddleoddle, Victor the Drum Destroyer and Cat Strat

alternatively, for the ARMYs here, think of Jeon Jungkook as a YouTuber

Kiro has about 18 million subscribers, which is A LOT, but he’s been on YouTube for 7 years and he’s made a name for himself as a super likeable and bubbly guy with an angelic voice and killer moves

you’d think he’s just a cute boy when he sings acoustic covers, but his dance moves suggest that he’s not THAT cute

also how does he stay so fit with all those snack mukbangs?

he has a segment named In Our Kloset where he talks about social issues (because our boy uses his platform for good) around the world while customizing (not just pins. we’re talking patches, sewing, painting, embroidery) thrifted clothing to his liking. at the end he holds a little fashion show with his new outfits

after a while, you’ll see many of his outfits in giveaways or on sale for charity. Kiro tries to give back to his fans as much as he can, and how better than by sharing a piece of his unique clothing with them?

a great singer and performer. has held actual concerts before and has an actual music career (author-nim leaves it up to you readers to decide whether this is his idol career or some other musical project)

keeps his private life PRIVATE. he knows how the internet works, and he knows there’s no way he can keep your relationship a secret forever, but he’s not about to expose it to the world because of that reason

keeps tabs on information or rumours regarding you and makes them vanish

he’s simultaneously the most open and the most secretive out of the four boys. his fans know his favourite colour, what type of underwear he wears (trunks. Kiro wears trunks.), his birthday,...

but they know nothing about his past, his location, his close social circle or his family (teeechnically he’s an orphan but ig we’re talking about his mentor here. the blood of the covenant blah blah blah...y’know?). Kiro protects his loved ones fiercely

for someone who’s kept so secret, you’re actually really involved in Kiro’s virtual persona. you’re usually behind the camera during his In Our Kloset videos and are in charge of extra research regarding topics so he doesn’t spread any misinformation 

you also give pointers during filming (of course, these bits are edited out) because Kiro tends to trail off and get distracted when sewing

another way you’re involved is setting up the food during mukbangs. you have a great sense of aesthetics, so all of his videos in general will go through you.

while you like being low-key in Kiro’s life, you don’t want him to feel like he has to protect you from all the hate. 

he doesn’t particularly love keeping you a secret either, and it makes him feel guilty because he doesn’t want you to think he’s ashamed of you. he could never be.

you guys give it a good chat over how you’re going to announce it, and he just ends up making a video titled Miss Chips where the two of you sit down and talk to the camera

“Hello my little chips! Uhm, as you can see, there’s someone sitting next to me today. Maybe you already guessed from the title, but this is...my girlfriend, Miss Chips,” cue the cute jazz hands in your direction, “We’ve been dating for a long, loooong time, right, Miss Chips?”

“I just wanted to share this with you guys, since it felt wrong to keep such an important person in my life private. I hope you’re all kind to her, because I love her dearly, even to the point of giving up my snacks...so it’s serious.”

it really is that serious, hm?

Hope you enjoyed reading! 

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc lucien #mlqc gavin #mlqc kiro #kiro #gavin #victor #lucien #love and producer #mr love #evol x love #zhou qilou #li zeyan #xu mo #bai qi #heo muk #baek gi #lee taekeon #ju girak #mlqc headcanon #mlqc hc #mr love imagine #mlqc imagine #youtuber!au #youtube!au #youtube #mlqc victor imagine #mlqc lucien imagine #mlqc gavin imagine

[ee-furoido]

So... Jade x Raven DUO magic when?

Ah! I’ve been waiting to write this for a while, and since @raven-at-the-writing-desk mentioned getting a similar ask, I decided to continue her story.

Raven’s Part 1 is here. My story is Part 2!

...But Only One to Let Go

The courtyard was packed with loitering students; some studying, others lounging on the grass. It was a place of solace for most students, to not have to think about the worries of their classes and tests. But not for much longer.

Jade was sitting on a bench in the center of the courtyard, a notebook and pencil in hand. He was sketching the flora of the courtyard, although his eyes were not on the page. While his hand moved effortlessly across the paper, his gaze lingered on the students. Every once in a while, he would scribble a note to the side of the latest thing he had drawn.

Perhaps another interesting note to tuck away for future use. No wonder there was a wide berth around his bench.

“J-Jade Leech!”

An almost eerie silence fell over the courtyard as the loud chirp rang out. A petite girl with long, black pigtails stomped up to the Octavinelle vice dorm leader. Jade’s gaze shifted to her, placing his pencil between the pages of his book and closing it shut. His narrowed eyes took in her flustered cheeks and clenched fists. A piece of black paper seemed to be crumpled up in her hand.

“Oya, oya, Miss Raven.” He said, pulling his features into a polite smile. The same conciliatory mask he was so used to slipping effortlessly over his more piercing and inquisitorial stares. 

Even within the courtyard's silence, the other students felt a rush of relief. His attention had turned to her. But even then, they watched with bated breath.

“How may I be of assistance today? I was not expecting you to come to me of your own accord like this.”

Jade shifted to one side of the bench and patted the seat next to him. An otherwise kind gesture, but that would entail getting even closer to him. Raven shook her head. She was fine where she was, shouting at him from 10 feet away.

“I assume you received the grade from our midterm exam as well.” Raven huffed, waving the scrunched up paper in her hands before crossing her arms. “I can’t say I’m pleased, and I’m quite certain you’re not either.”

Jade’s smile slipped for only a moment before he gathered it back up. He cocked his head to the side, his thin-lipped smile curling up even further. “Who knows?” 

“Wha- what does that mean?!” Raven sputtered. “You’re saying you’re fine with the C that Professor Crewel gave us!? I for one will not stand for it.”

She pointed at him with a steady finger. “We’re going to retake this test and if that means I have to force you to….. I- I will!”

With a light chuckle, Jade stood up, brushing eraser debris from his uniform as he did so. In only two steps, he was looming over the young Crowley, a wide grin showing off his dagger-like teeth. “Fufu, perhaps you should calm down, Miss Raven. If you continue on your little rampage, you may bite your tongue.”

“Calm d-”

Although she was already flustered, Raven’s face turned a brighter shade of red, one mixed with both anger and embarrassment. She clenched her teeth, trying to stop herself from striking his chest with her fists. ‘Can’t let him win.’

Jade let out another chuckle, amused by Raven’s resistance.

“Since you require a partner for this portion of the exam,” he said, curling his knuckles under his chin, “I suppose I cannot say no. Ah, I sincerely cannot leave a helpless creature in need.”

Much like the start of their most recent partnership, Jade extended a hand towards the bird, a literal offering of his help. “I’m sure you’ll be able to return the favor someday. Shall we adjourn to the training field?”

In a moment of deja vu, Raven’s eyes focused on his black gloves. How snugly it fit around his fingers, how cool it was to the touch when she had grasped it last. She wanted to forget her frustrations and take it once more.

With a deep intake of breath, Raven gave a pout, crossing her arms once more. She would hold her ground, not get lulled in by this siren. “... Yes, we shall. But as equals.” She spat his own words from the examination back at him. “There won’t be any favors or pay for this.”

Jade chuckled as Raven turned on her heel and promptly headed towards the gymnasium.

“As you wish.” He breathed to himself as he followed her.

The courtyard quickly filled with the buzzing of muted conversation after they left. The witnesses left behind whispered to each other about the scene that had played out. It wasn’t often that Jade Leech himself was at the center of potential gossip, after all. 

Raven found herself waiting at the training field alone.

“I’ll only be a moment late.” Jade had said. “There is something I must retrieve first.”

A moment had turned into 20 minutes, then almost an hour. Raven did her best to hold back tears of frustration. She felt foolish, thinking he would be there without question, to care for his grade just as much as she did.

Of course he wiggled out of this when he could, the slippery little eel. ‘I did not shake on it, so he didn’t deem it necessary to actually show up.’ Raven’s thoughts steamed as she kicked her sportswear sneakers. ‘That uncultured, underhanded, untruthful…. slimy-’

“My apologies for the tardiness,” Jade’s voice rang out. While she had been simmering in her own thoughts, he had arrived. And he seemed to carry a large silver orb about the size of a basketball. He had also taken the time to change into his athletic uniform, his usually buttoned up attire replaced by a long sleeve shirt and a half-way zipped up tracksuit.

Raven tore her eyes away from his exposed collarbone to the thing in his hands.

“Where have you been and… wh-what’s that?”

The mer-eel chuckled, tapping a few buttons on the orb before responding. The silver surface started to flicker blue and Raven could hear a light whirr as it powered up.

“A new artifact from the students of Ignihyde.” He explained. “Ever since their successful projection mapping during Halloween, there's been talks on other possible uses of the technology.”

“It came to my attention about a month ago that a few of them were working on what they called a Battle Application Droid. I had no need of it then, so I merely put that piece of information to the side at the time.”

“It took a bit of convincing to retrieve this from the Ignihyde students who have been completing the prototype, but in the end they knew what was good for them, fufu.” Jade’s chuckle was remorseless, only filled with amusement.

Raven almost thought to ask who the poor mob was that had found himself under Jade’s thumb, but thought better of it. Jade would most likely not give a straight answer, anyway.

“... So how does it work, then?”

“Essentially, we should be able to engage in a mock battle with holographic enemies.” He turns his attention back to the ball and inputs more on the keypad. “Ignihyde has access to the cameras of the school since they help maintain security. They also manage the servers where we upload all the videos from Dorm Leader battles and exams. Based on their algorithms, it should give us a randomized battle.”

Satisfied with the scenario he set into the orb, Jade hit the largest button on the side and rolled it out into the field.

“W-wait! Why’d you just-”

“We may need to stand back, Miss Raven.”

Jade threw an arm out in front of the bird and pulled her back a few feet. His hand clutched at his magical pen in his dominant hand. Seeing him prepare, Raven grasped her magical quill as tight as she could.

There was nothing else she could do at this point. No time to prepare, no time to back out.

The ball beeped a countdown in the middle of the field before erupting in a wave of blue light, sending a bright blue shock wave through the partners.

“Kh-” Raven flinched with grit teeth, using Jade's arm to shield her eyes from the light. She gripped onto his sleeve until it dimmed, and only then did she chance a look at their surroundings.

Her beak dropped open. They were in the coliseum. 

'Well, no, of course we aren't.' There was a light blue haze over what should be the stone slabs of the arena, as well as moments of static. But otherwise, it was an almost flawless holographic replica of the coliseum.

Ignihyde’s projection mapping had grown, no longer needing physical objects to display images. 3D holographic projection had arrived.

“Be prepared.”

Jade’s voice seemed so far away to Raven in that moment, but it snapped her back to reality. Facing them from across the field were two faceless students, magical pens raised.

“... Th-they cannot actually hit us, right?” Raven’s voice twittered from behind Jade’s arm. 

“Perhaps, perhaps not.” Jade said. “If you would like to stay standing there and test that, Miss Raven, then be my guest. However, I would prefer to come out of this unscathed and am unwilling to experiment, fufufu.”

“Wha- You-”

A light chortle before Jade quickly pushed Raven away to the side as he jumped in the opposite direction. Right where they had been standing only a second prior, a pillar of blue fire erupted. The flames crackled as it burned up the sweet digital oxygen. 

Despite the close call, neither felt the heat. The simulation really was only an artificial emulation, after all.

“Seems like this should be quite easy to defeat.” Jade’s eyes glinted, the Ignihyde blue of the digital landscape dancing off of his olive and gold irises. “Especially knowing it cannot harm us.”

“We need to think like it can harm us, Jade…!” Raven squawked out from where she had tumbled onto the ground. “Otherwise, what is the purpose of this training?”

“I do believe it is for you to get a better grade, is it not?”

“YOU-”

Raven caught herself. There she went, falling into his rhythm, ready to bite back at the merest provocation. Professor Crewel’s words rang in her ear again.

“Your coordination could use much improvement. You were yapping at one another for almost the entirety of the battle.”

He wasn’t wrong then, and even now she could see them falling into the same pattern. Her fingers gripped her quill even tighter. What was it about him that caused her to act this way?

…

“Miss Raven!”

She had pulled her attention away from the scenario for only a second, but that was all it took for the simulated opponents to take advantage. A large ball of water was hurtling towards her—

—and was intercepted by a column of real leaves and wind, slamming down to the ground like a wall, just in time for the digital water to hit it and disintegrate.

“Fascinating.” Jade muttered, racing over to where Raven was pushing herself off of the ground. “For our physical magic to be able to intercept the holograms… Fufufu, this is much more technologically advanced than I expected.”

He glanced down at the smaller student, flashing a mocking grin. “Eyes open, my dear. I won’t always be there to save you.”

He turned his attention back towards the virtual opponents.

“Now is the time for our counter-attack.”

It didn’t take long for the two of them to find a rhythm, to defeat wave after wave of artificial enemies. Although smart and biting quips were still thrown out from time to time, their wordless communication was their impenetrable defense—whenever one was targeted by an enemy, the other was on hand to assist. While one prepared their stronger physical attacks, the other parried incoming attacks.

Seamless unity.

The sun had started to set on Night Raven College, and the two were almost out of breath. Six waves of faceless blue students they had fought, and it was taking a toll on both of them. Their uniforms were a mess with dirt and grass stains, the crystals of their pens were both getting cloudy.

This was the last round dictated by the orb.

This last enemy was relentless, its speed faster than the others. Almost before either could react, it would send fireball after fireball downrange, keeping both Raven and Jade on their toes.

“Tch!” Jade growled, jumping out of the way of yet another blue ball of flame. “Relentless…”

He paused to catch his breath, gripping his pen. “Miss Raven, we need to settle this quickly, we should—”

“Watch out!” Raven shouted, pulling Jade towards her and onto the ground. A blue swirl of leaves from the other AI barely grazed the top of their heads.

A moment as they realize the position they were in. Jade had fallen, propped up on his hands, hovering over her. Half a heartbeat passed—

Jade rolled onto his back, panting and holding back a chuckle. Raven shook her head, trying to will away her fluster. Now was not the time to be thinking of how close that was.

“Eyes open, I won’t always be there to save you.” She shot at him, the same words he had mocked her with before.

Jade sat up and eyed the two opponents on the other side of the field, warily. From the looks of it, the two mobs were preparing a powerful spell, a duo…

He pushed himself off of the ground and reached his left hand out for Raven. With another light and exhausted laugh, he spoke.

“I’m pleased to know that you have my back when I require it, Miss Raven.”

A warm sensation emanated from Jade’s hand, one that Raven could not describe offhand. But it compelled her to take his offered hand this time, a static of magic crackling as the two of them touch. Another wave of blush scrawled across her cheeks. She gripped the quill in her other hand.

“Sh-shut up, Jade, I’m only doing this because I have to.” Her temperamental defense mechanism rising once more. 

Jade would have let another laugh escape him, but as the two of them connected by both touch and words, he could feel a second wind surge through him. In almost an instant, his exhaustion melted away. 

His heartbeat grew louder every second, and he could sense the magic radiating from his core to his pen.

His gaze fell on the artificial students.

‘Give no quarter.’

An immense pillar of water crashed down where the opponents had stood. Despite their distance, the water from the attack splashed all the way back to the two weary students. Jade gritted his teeth with determination.

The second strike materialized three large pillars of water dropping the AI to the ground, their magic concentration lost.

Jade’s eyes glittered with malicious glee as he swung his magical pen a third time, covering the other half of the field in a destructive wave of water. The digital enemies flickered under the pressure and disappeared—

—Quickly followed by the rest of the projection. The simulation was over.

“Well,” Jade said, wiping the sweat and dirt on his brow with his equally dirty sleeve. “I suppose this is a day well practiced.”

Raven nodded, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding during his ultimate attack. “Yes…”

…

“Jade…?”

“Yes, Miss Raven?”

“... Y-you can let go of my hand now.”

“Fufufu, of course, as you wish.”

Jade untangled his fingers from hers and gave a light, polite bow. He made his way to the center of the field to pick up the prototype B.A.D., wiping off the battle residue with his shirt. 

Raven stared off after him, proud of the difference their day of practice made. 

They would be ready for the makeup exam. No doubt about it.

#Jeido responds #Jeido writes #Mob ask #raven-at-the-writing-desk #Twisted Wonderland #twst #Jade Leech #twst Jade

[thecagedsong]

Forgotten Light: Chatper 8: Boundaries

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11

Chapter 8: Boundaries

Ronodin hadn’t returned, and said that he wouldn’t until tonight. Kendra had another day to whittle away. She read more in her book on the Fair Folk over breakfast, then sat in front of her crafting materials again.

Kendra had no idea if her medallion even worked, but at least it dried nicely. The wooden texture came through the paint, but that made it look functional. Like, hey, this is a wooden medallion meant to weaken my enemies, not be a high school shop class project.

Did she take woodshop class? Did she ever go to high school? From Ronodin’s story, Kendra probably had tutors. Why did she feel like she knew more about the American public school system than she did about monster hunting? Or even tutoring schedules?

Trying to figure out her past by evaluating what bodies of knowledge she possessed and what she didn’t left her with a headache.

Kendra refocused on the fabrics in front of her. She did okay with the medallion, maybe her body had remembered something her brain didn’t. Hopefully that subconscious knowledge would help her do what she wanted to make next: create a jacket.

Ronodin assured her that the clothes in her wardrobe were all hers, taken and given to Ronodin from her own closet for exactly this time. Pieces her family didn’t approve of and wouldn’t know to find missing. But old Kendra’s clothes…left a bit more exposed than she liked. Aside from also being mostly black and red, and she was really growing tired of those colors, the dresses were low cut at the top, and high cut around the thighs.

She looked sexy in them, but with Ronodin continuing to ‘forget’ that she had only met him two days ago, sexy wasn’t the look she wanted to wear. She’d start with a simple cardigan, covering up her shoulders and back, then see what she could do about altering hemlines.

Looking over the fabrics, she wished she had pink. She thought she liked the color. Pink wasn’t among the fabric options. There was more red and black, and white, silver, dark blue, green, orange, and dark purple.

Because it would clash horribly with the red and the black, she selected the pumpkin orange fabric. If she was enough of an eyesore, maybe she could convince Ronodin that they needed to pop into a shopping mall for a real wardrobe. Something she was comfortable with now. The orange fabric was a wool/giant hair blend, dyed with pigment from the Fala plant, that produced its own distractor spell to convince people that it was dead until they forgot what they were looking for.

Sewing was a lot harder than she thought, especially without a sewing machine. Did she do this by hand the first time? The needle felt so awkward, her stitches were uneven, she was approximating the designs in the book, but some of them had her folding fabric before cutting? What did it mean by grain? She tried to incorporate ‘make me look hideous!’ magic intentions as she sewed, imaging Ronodin cringing away from her, refusing to look at her in it, but it was a little hard when most of her focus went to not pricking herself.

Still, she wasn’t a quitter. Kendra had to undo a seam, because apparently clothes were assembled inside out, but by referencing the book every few minutes, and working through hand cramps, she managed to at least make the pieces stick together.

It was early afternoon when Kendra finished her uneven hems. Some of the tools in the basket might have helped her, but her books didn’t reference any of them, so she left them alone.

Holding up the final product, Kendra giggled. She’d done everything on larger estimates, figuring that her goal was to be covered and folds in fabric were easier to have than one side not fitting, and cutting down was easier than adding. The result could generously be described as an orange tent. Kendra had to see herself in the monstrosity. She rushed to the bathroom, passing Mendigo in the hall, and positioned herself in front of the mirror.

She slung on the cardigan over the black lace dress, and cracked up.

“Hi Ronodin!” Kendra waved to the mirror with both hands, one sleeve reaching halfway up her palm the other so wide it fell back against her elbow at the motion. The ruby necklace looked like it was suffering, trying to hide from her attempts at sewing.

“Oh, er Kendra, I see you tried sewing,” Kendra mocked in the mirror with a low voice.

Kendra twirled, then did an impression of herself with a higher pitch than normal, “I did, do you like it? I love it! I put soo much effort into it! I love the pumpkin look, don’t you?”

She imagined Ronodin’s face, the horror, the strain not to insult his girlfriend, and burst out laughing. Kendra couldn’t wait to see his face for real. She would insist on wearing this until he took her to the mall.

Kendra stopped laughing and frowned at her reflection. That really didn’t seem right. Even if she had arranged all of this herself, why would she arrange a hideout she couldn’t ever leave? If old Kendra had wanted to live a free life with Ronodin, why didn’t she pick a hide away that let her go outside? Her family couldn’t be powerful enough to search the whole world. If she had been able to pick anywhere, a remote island seemed like a much better hiding place than where she was.

Maybe she and Ronodin had had a disagreement over how long she should stay underground. He might be capitalizing on her memory loss to keep her extra safe; it’s possible Kendra had never intended for herself to remain sealed away. That seemed like something Ronodin would do. Slip in a little lie amongst the truths to save himself battles.

Well, wherever they were, Kendra wanted out. Now that she wasn’t dressed for a cocktail party, she would find her way to a window at least. She went back to her room, and decided to arm herself with the bow she had brought with her through the barrel, even though she didn’t have any arrows. She hadn’t had anything else on her, so she slipped on her shoes and went to the door that Ronodin usually walked out of.

She turned the heavy knob, but the door wouldn’t budge. Jiggled it some more, but didn’t move. She searched everywhere for a key, but couldn’t find on. What kind of front door could be locked from the outside?

“Mendigo?” Kendra called, and her puppet came forward. “Open this door.”

Kendra stepped to the side as Mendigo started straining his wooden hands at the door. He turned back to her and shrugged, showing his wooden fingers. Duh, no way could he get the grip he needed that way.

Should she order him to break down the door? These rooms were rented to them by their mysterious ‘host’, who apparently had Ronodin working like a slave. He probably wouldn’t appreciate her busting his door down. She decided against it until things looked more dire.

The last hasty, destructive action she had ordered had almost killed her fiancé. She would demand a key from Ronodin when he got back before resorting to property damage.

“Thank you Mendigo,” Kendra said, “Let’s see what else there is in this place.” Putting her hand on the wall to the left of the door, Kendra started walking, never lifting it. She discovered three different storage closets: one for cleaning supplies, one empty, one for linens. Kitchen, Ronodin’s bedroom (extremely frugal, disappointingly empty) (he had a couple of robes Kendra considered using to augment her own wardrobe, but decided that would send the wrong message), Library, bathroom, craft room, Kendra’s room, Kendra’s bathroom, Kendra’s closet, sitting room/front room, and back to the main door.

That was it. The entirety of her existence, done up in blacks, reds, and gray stone and drenched in blue firelight. Some of the carpets had cream accents, but that was it.

Kendra knew what kind of front door locked from the outside.

She wandered back to her craft room and picked up a canvas to draw. This was about passing time. Next time she wouldn’t let Ronodin leave without her. Kendra just needed to stay sane until he got back. Even if practicing her magic with nicer emotions would create a less effective item, she wanted something nice to look at. Something peaceful. An outdoor scene, and she’d try to work peace into it. It was for herself anyway, and she’d do it in blue and green and white, and it would look beautiful.

Unfortunately, Kendra couldn’t visualize what ‘outside’ looked like. She knew the sky was blue, it had a sun, and grass was green and flowers came in all colors, but the pieces wouldn’t put themselves together. Kendra had never seen ‘outside’, she had nothing but rote facts. She put her pencil to canvas anyway, figuring that if she drew the pieces, it would all come together eventually.

Her hand refused to move. It had no direction on what to draw. Were horizons bumpy or straight? What color blue was the sky? What did sun look like on plant leaves?

Glaring, Kendra started sketching her craft table, in front of her, with the wall behind it turning into prison bars. She’d seen those in her mad-dash self-kidnapping.

Sketching came easier than sewing or carving. Maybe because more art principals were known by the public, the curse wasn’t able to remove them as personal memories. It was nice to have something come together, even if it was only a picture of her cell.

When she got to painting, she ignored the descriptions of materials and focused on colors. Easier than before, she took threads of magic, threads of the flame from the candle inside her, into her hand and turned them to her own emotions, mixing with the paint materials. She wanted people to look at the painting and know that she was trapped. She wanted them to know the suffocation, and the feeling of crafting little trinkets while sun and stars roved the heavens unseen. Not being able to draw the sun or the sky. Not knowing what those looked like. Not knowing what anything looked like outside of six people, a puppet, and her prison. It was a nice prison, possibly one of the nicest in the world.

Kendra painted black beyond the bars. Even gilded cages birthed insanity.

#Forgotten Light #Fablehaven #Dragonwatch #Kendra Sorenson #I...may have been dealing with the initial pandemic claustrophobia when I wrote this #I'm just being dramatic #I'm at it again like an addict with pen

[littleoddwriter]

Morning | Curt Wild x GenderNeutral!Reader

"Um hi.. I never requested before and I'm kinda shy so sorry that I'm awkward. Anyway may i request curt wild x reader. With some fluff? Thank you if you do want to write it. I like your writings! Have a good day! x" anon

summary; Slice of Life about a cosy morning with Curt. 

notes; GenderNeutral!Reader; Fluff; Domestic Fluff; Cosy Morning; Drawing; Breakfast; Cuddling; Kissing; Mention of Curt’s difficulties with being alone after Brian; Some Flirting and Banter. Reblogs > Likes. Thank you!

"Hey, baby. What're y’doin' there?" Curt asked you, as he sleepily stumbled into the living room, where you sat on the couch, drawing. He was only wearing one of his robes, which was opened, and underwear, almost his entire body on display, basically. You loved it.

"Drawing. What else does it look like I'm doing?" You replied, smiling fondly at him.

A big yawn sounded from him, as he had apparently just woken up. "I don't know. Didn't really look."

"Uh-huh. Anyway, have you slept well, my love?" You set your sketchbook and pencil down, on the table, as Curt let himself fall into the couch next to you, the robe sliding off his shoulders, leaving his torso open and exposed entirely.

He leaned his head on your shoulder and smiled up at you. "I slept well, thanks. What about you? How long have you been sitting here for?" Curt rubbed his face against your shoulder and nipped at your neck a little.

You chuckled and tried to push him off you. "Not too long, just about an hour. I just couldn't sleep anymore and didn't want to wake you by being restless." Then you turned your head to him, as he finally let up, and kissed him on the lips.

He hummed into it and kissed you back gently. "I'm hungry," he murmured against you lips, making you smile.

"I figured. I still have some left over from what I've made before, if you want that?"

Curt just nodded and got up with you, as you walked into the kitchen together. It was small, but cosy and it had everything you needed, so neither of you could complain, really.

While you prepared his breakfast, he pressed his body against your back, his hands resting on your hips, and kissed your neck again, nuzzling it.

"You're awfully, well, not clingy, but - you know - present, today. Did something happen, or? It's not bad or anything, I'm just wondering aloud," you said after a few more moments of comfortable silence, in which you just enjoyed the love and affection he showered you in.

"I hate waking up alone, is all. Made me think you were... gone entirely. For a moment."

Oh.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen. I just got really restless, but didn't want to wake you up just yet, I apologise."

"No, don't. It's alright, you've not done anything wrong. I just- well, you know."

By 'you know' he meant this entire thing with Brian Slade that had happened a few years before you've met. You should have known that it wouldn't be good if you let him wake up on his own, but you hadn't really thought of that.

"Still, I should have known. Anyway, eat your breakfast, then we can continue cuddling on the couch, alright?"

"Yeah, okay, sounds good," he mumbled, taking the plate with his food gratefully and sat down at the kitchen table, across from you.

"What have you been drawing, baby?" He asked after a couple of minutes.

"Hm, not sure actually. I just started sketching out a body and I'm not sure what I'm gonna do with it, to be honest." You chuckled bashfully.

"Should I give you ideas? I could also model for you," he said, leering at you.

"I mean, you could! If you wanna sit on your ass for a few hours, then sure," you replied, knowing exactly that he absolutely couldn't do that, always needing to move somehow or drumming his fingers in a rhythm he would have turned into a song some years ago.

He rolled his eyes, smiling fondly. "Shut up."

Tempted to just reply with a smug 'make me', you laughed and kept your mouth shut, letting him finish his breakfast in peace.

Afterwards, you sat back down on the couch, your sides pressed against each other, Curt's arm around your shoulders, as you picked up your sketchbook again and continued drawing, while he watched over you. He kept nuzzling your hair and pressing sweet kisses to it and your cheek and neck, making you giggle with it here and there.

It was just one of those really cosy mornings, where neither of you had anything to do and you could simply enjoy each other's company. You wished you could live forever in this very moment.

#x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader insert #x reader #reader insert #curt wild #curt wild x reader #curt wild x gender neutral reader #curt wild x you #curt wild fanfiction #curt wild imagine #ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor x reader #ewan mcgregor fanfiction #ewan mcgregor imagine

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Shielded. Chapter Four

Happy Sunday all, back to the usually scheduling this week. I hope you enjoy the next week of lockdown with Jamie and Claire <3 Mod MBD.

Anonymous said to imagineclaireandjamie: 

It does not matter what you bear, but how you bear it. [Seneca]

CHAPTER FOUR: WEEK TWO - Home and Away.

As Monday rolled around again, the weekend having passed by in a blur, Claire sat at the breakfast table with a fresh cup of coffee in her hands. Having ventured down during the day on both Saturday and Sunday, she had hoped to bump into Jamie and pass on her thanks to his generosity but he had been out before sunrise each day and she had been asleep before he’d returned home.

Resolute, however, she chose to spend her day downstairs and hopefully get something on for dinner before he came back so she could at least start the week off right.

Fate, however, wasn’t on her side. By 10pm, with the lasagne tucked away, wrapped in foil, in the fridge, she covered her mouth with a yawn and pulled herself up the stairs to bed.

The crash and smashing of a glass bought her out of her sleep as the clock beside her bed clicked over to 3am. Pulling herself from beneath the sheets, she crept downstairs, eager not to scare him as she approached the kitchen.

“Couldn’t sleep?” She asked, knowing full well he had only just returned home.

He was stood by the sink, cold lasagna on the countertop and his mucky boots still on his feet. With the fork held to his mouth, he smiled as he took another bite of the pasta, chewed and then shook his head. “I havena ever been the best sleeper but it’s lambing season, aye? One of them got into bother and I couldna leave her until I knew she was safe.”

“And she made it?”

“Aye. I was luckier tonight than I was at the weekend.”

“Oh, dear...that doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s the job, I’m afraid. If I didna lose at least a handful a year I’d be shocked.”

It was the first real (and longest) conversation they’d had since she’d arrived and she was suddenly grateful for the company. He was calm, grounded and relaxed in the way a lot of city dwellers weren’t. She could tell in the slump of his shoulders that it didn’t matter how long and awkward his day was, how messy or how little sleep he had gotten the night before, he was still weightless almost, free of the constraint modern living brought to most.

“I wanted to say thank you,” she broke in, remembering the reason she’d half-blindly stumbled down in the middle of the night, “you’ve been so amazing - to get me materials for a garden, that’s...above and beyond the call of duty.”

“Ach,” shaking his head, he finished the last of his supper, balled the tin foil up and placed it in the bin, “dinna fash yersel’ about that. It’s no’ a problem.”

He was embarrassed, she could tell. Abashed, his accent had become incredibly thick and almost impossible to understand. But it was quiet enough here that there was no background noise to blot out his sentence and luckily she didn’t have to ask him to repeat himself.

“Well, nonetheless,” ignoring the slight reddening of his cheeks she continued, “I am very grateful to you. For everything.”

With nothing more to say between them, she waved, smiled and backed off, feeling strangely pleased with herself for breaking the silence between them. Hopefully, she thought as she climbed the stairs back to her room, there would be some evenings in the future when they could eat together and she could show her appreciation by making him something warm and fresh.

-- --

By mid-week, she had yet to see Jamie again. His work was intense, and yet, despite that, he had still managed to begin construction of her tiny garden.

In her haste she had forgotten that she wasn’t allowed outside the house and, as she’d watched the greenhouse foundations being laid, she had become almost inconsolable about the fact that she probably wouldn’t get the chance to tend to any of the produce grown in it.

She knew, however, that safety was more important than new hobbies and she chose, instead, to make detailed lists of the daily needs of each of the seeds and plants Jamie had procured for her.

She started with the tomatoes and grapes, which needed to be contained within the glass walls in order to collect enough light and heat to survive. She noted water levels, soil PH and balance and daily rituals which would need to be abided by in order for the best crop to be formed. It filled most of her days and when the sun went down, she’d swap her notepad for the computer as she researched all the differences she might see in her fruit and veg determined all by the way they were treated as they grew.

Though she had never been an artist, she started to search for youtube videos on how botanical art could be created. Having no coloured pencil crayons or watercolours, she stuck to pencil sketches and began to leave more post-it’s, this time with future predictions on what the garden might produce for the household.

Once again Jamie enjoyed coming home. There had only been a few days lapse in her communications but when he didn’t see her for days, it was the one thing he could rely on to buoy his spirits.

They were different, in so many ways, but on a subconscious level, he pondered to himself at night as he held the drawing of some rare cabbage in his hands, Jamie felt as if they had very many similar quirks. He’d been pleased that his idea to leave her be for as long as she needed had been a success and was grateful she felt at home enough to reform her life around his. Her asking for the garden made him realise how easy it might be for someone else to fit into his own life without causing him much grief.

It was only a small thing, but to him it had made a huge difference. Having lived alone for so long, he had almost forgotten how malleable people could be. Though, he thought as he rifled around in the fridge for more pre-made meals, he had probably just gotten lucky with Claire.

The thought also occurred to him that she had been inadvertently raised more suited to this life than her old one, but he didn’t know enough about her to advance on the notion.

It wasn’t until late on Thursday when they came face to face together. After another heavy day and late night, Jamie finally toe-ed off his work boots at nearly midnight and made his way, quietly, through to the kitchen.

He had not expected to nearly bump straight into Claire has she dished up what looked like a very tasty stir fry.

“I thought you might be sick of reheating pasta dishes, so I thought I’d try and wait for you this time.”

“Ye didna have to, it’s very late.” He scratched the back of his neck bashfully, even she couldn;t find the truth in his words and she smiled as she placed a fresh bottle of soy sauce in the centre of the table. “But this does smell delicious.”

“It’s taken me a few attempts to hone it, but I’ve been practicing most evenings this week to try and get it perfect, flavour as well as how long I need to cook the veg for.”

“What’s the meat?” He asked, watching as his stomach rumbled audibly.”

“I used the duck, I hope you don’t mind. I used chicken earlier in the week but I couldn’t seem to get it as tender as I wanted it and a few forums online suggested that duck might be a better substitute if I wanted meat with a bit more moisture.”

“Perfect. Use any meat you want from the freeze, for anything. Honestly, I forget most of the time what I’ve got in there.”

Placing several bowls filled with various meats, vegetables and sides, she went back to the sink to wash the remaining stickiness of her hands before beckoning him to start without her. “I had hoped you weren’t saving anything for a special occasion.”

“Ach, I think the virus has put pay to anything like that for a while,” he began, filling his plate with noodles, duck and beansprouts, “my sister - she lives in Canada now - had planned a summer visit, but we’re no’ sure of anything at the moment.”

“Is she the one in the photo,” Claire enquired, taking a mouthful of her own concoction and swallowing back the relief when it tasted nice - a mixture of sweet and savory that wasn’t as overpowering or as dry as it had been earlier on in the day when she’d made the first of the final tests. “The one with brown hair?”

“Aye, she is. Her partner, Ian, got a job out there a few years ago and they emigrated. We talk as often as we can on Skype and FaceTime but it’s become sporadic recently wi’ my erratic work hours. She’s a nurse, ya see, and works odd shift patterns too. But we try and keep in touch at least once a month.”

“Do you miss her?”

“I didna really think about it, we were close....until we werena. Then they moved away and I fell into a new routine.”

He had begun to speak without thinking, filling up the silence with answers to her questions as they ate in between conversation. He had, though, had the forethought to stop before giving too much away. The thought hurt his heart and he had to inhale between a bite of his dinner to gather himself back up. He knew, given time, that he would be alright with sharing his past (as he hoped she would be with hers) but tonight wasn’t the night for revelations.

Sensing his reluctance to continue, she moved on, understanding that she herself wasn’t in a place to open up about her own family life.

“I can imagine Skype is about the only way most are communicating at the moment.” Sighing, she started to collect the empty dishes and load the dishwasher. “I’m quite grateful, actually, that I don’t have anyone to keep in touch with. It’s all...quite scary.”

It was the first time Jamie had consciously thought about the pandemic, being cut off from the outside world had its benefits and he felt relieved that he could separate himself from the constant barrage of news that he supposed others would be exposed to. He realised that both he and Claire were unique now, part of a smaller section of society where being remote was almost a blessing rather than a curse.

“If you ever need to talk, lass,” standing, he helped to clean up the remaining mess from dinner, his hand almost brushing against hers as he wiped the countertop down, breaking only to hover for a second before returning to his job, “ye know where I am. Please dinna think you have nobody...if yer concerned, aye?”

“Thank you Jamie.” Pulling her fleece cardigan across her chest she walked slowly to the kitchen door, pausing for a second in the doorway just to make sure she’d left nothing out to go cold and mouldy overnight. “The same to you. I’m a good listener, I promise, if you ever need to talk, or if you need any help.”

She’d been thinking about his life on the farm for a few days now, watching the rolling hills out of her window, seeing the sheep and cattle on the horizon and -very occasionally- seeing the silhouette of him roaming his land. There was little she could do from indoors, she knew, but there had been chores around the house that she could potentially complete. Putting herself to task, she had learned new basic kitchen skills but only this morning she’d noticed the beginnings of a hole on the seam of his trousers as they dried on the rail in the courtyard and she thought it might be something she could tend to...should he be alright with it.

Leaving with the quiet settling calmly between them, she noted the relaxing of the muscles in his face as he smiled and nodded as she turned and carried herself to bed.

Resting against the faux-marble worktop, Jamie closed his eyes as he waited for the soft slam of her bedroom door before he followed her up. She just might, he thought to himself as he undressed himself, taking a towel from his radiator and making his way to the shower, be better equipped for this life than I am.

#anonymous #ask #shielded #Jamie X Claire #;mod mbd

[love-and-monsters]

Quarantined with a Tiefling

To help us all deal a little bit with the current situation, I’ve decided to write a story for MKM’s monster quarantine. Hopefully it will help lift your spirits.

GN reader X M tiefling, 3050 words.

“Look, I’m sorry, but you can’t leave.” The werewolf at the door folded her ears back and drew up her lips in an impressive show of teeth. “You’ve all been exposed.”  

“That’s bullshit!” A wyvern leaned over the werewolf, showing off an even more impressive set of teeth. “You can’t keep us here. It’s not fair. I have family waiting for me!” He lifted an arm. “Get out of my way.”

“Sir, I am going to have to ask you to calm down.” A human wearing the same uniform as the werewolf marched over. She was holding a taser. The wyvern snarled, but backed off. “Look, you were all on the plane with her, so any of you could be infected. You have to stay here for a week to ensure that you aren’t sick and won’t transmit it to anyone else.”

“What if we can’t get sick?” a vampire asked. “It’s not far to keep us here just because we were on the plane.”

“There will be a few doctors along momentarily to screen for those of you who cannot catch diseases. All the undead will be free to go after proper disinfection procedures. The rest of you will need to wait out the full time of quarantine.” The crowd rumbled with discontent and the human raised her voice. “We will do our best to ensure that you are compensated for your time, but you are staying here.”

Several people approached her and guards started to converge on the area. You withdrew, back to the furthest edge of the room, away from the angry crowd. Several other monsters were there with you. A nervous-looking harpy was curled up in a corner, a naga was stretched across the floor, and a tired tiefling was slumped next to your belongings.

“Sorry,” you said, approaching him, “I just need to get into my bags.”

He blinked at you and shifted away from your bags so you could get into them. A yawn split his face, revealing large fangs. He attempted to lean back against a nearby column, but his long, curling horns prevented it. Grimacing, he lay awkwardly over what you assumed was his bag.

“Are you all right?” you asked cautiously. He focused on your with surprisingly bright purple eyes. They set off his dark blue skin in a striking way.

“I’m not sick, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said. His voice was clear and low, not raspy as the sick woman’s had been. “I had a red eye connecting flight to this one. I don’t sleep well on planes, so I’m afraid I’m a bit exhausted.” He sagged back over his suitcase. “I hope they set us up somewhere soon. I’d like to get some sleep.”

“Oh,” you said. “You’re not worried?”

“About the illness?” He shook his head slowly. “No. Are you?”

“A little,” you said. “More worried about my work, to be honest.” He looked at you curiously. “I work in museum archives. I can’t do my work remotely and if I’m not there, I’ll fall behind.”

“That’s unfortunate,” he said. “I’m a graphic designer. Just flying back from a meeting with a client. As long as I have my computer, I have work.”

Almost as soon as he’d finished speaking, there was the crackle of a bullhorn and a voice boomed out over the crowd. “Attention all passengers!”

You sat up and looked toward the front of the room. A tall minotaur was standing there, yelling into a megaphone. She was flanked by the werewolf and human from before while a few other uniformed people walked out into the crowd. “You have been gathered here because you were all passengers on flight 441, which, it has just been confirmed, was also attended by a woman carrying Mirkwood Flu.” A murmur spread through the crowd and the minotaur raised her voice further. “It is unlikely to cause death, but due to its rapid spread rate and its ability to affect nearly all species, we have been told to quarantine all passengers to ensure that this disease does not spread further.”

Angry yells started to break out from patches of the crowd. The minotaur seemed unaffected. “This quarantine will last a week, in which we will provide food and shelter for you. If any of you have contracted this disease, you will be treated for it before you can leave. Please follow the designated employees to the quarantine zone. We apologize for your inconvenience.”

The angry buzz of the crowd started to break into serious fighting in a few areas and guards converged on them. The tielfing next to you stood up, slinging a bag over his shoulder.

“Come on,” he said, gesturing with his spike-tipped tail. “You don’t want to stay here.”

There was a thud from the nearby crowd and the buzzing of a taser. You took a step back, then turned and hurried after the tiefling. A few of the security officers were leading a group of people through a corridor blocked off with plastic sheeting and you joined them.

“Were you near that woman on the plane?” the tiefling asked as you walked down the hall.

“I don’t remember,” you admitted. You hadn’t paid especially close attention to the passengers around you on the plane. The only thing you could really remember was that she hadn’t been in your row. “Was she near you?”

“Three rows back,” he said. “I recall she was coughing a lot. I didn’t think much of it. The air on a plane is so dry.”

The corridor opened up into a large room. Cots had been set up along the walls, each one with simple white sheets and plain white clothes sitting on it. One of the security guards at the door held out his hand to you. “Your bag, please?”

Both you and the tiefling clutched your bags tighter. The security guard narrowed his eyes. “Your items need to be disinfected. They’ll be returned to you after quarantine.”

“I need my computer,” the tiefling said. The guard looked unmoved.

“You will have your items returned to you after the quarantine,” he repeated. He held out a hand.

You handed your bag over and gave the tiefling a meaningful look. He gritted his teeth, but removed his bag from his shoulder and passed it to the guard. With a nod, you were free to enter the room.

You walked over to one of the beds and sat down on the edge. A doctor wearing one of the contamination suits they wore in disease movies approached you.

“You can step behind the curtains and change,” he said, gesturing to curtained booths toward the back of the room. “We’ll need to disinfect your clothes as well.” You glanced at the tiefling, half-expecting him to protest that as well, but he seemed to have given up on protecting.

“I’m not wedded to these clothes,” he muttered. “You don’t have to give them back.”

He vanished behind one of the curtains and you followed suit. You folded your clothes in the designated corner and changed into the slightly scratchy outfit they had provided. It was about as flattering as a potato sack, made exclusively to cover your modesty and nothing else.

The tiefling was sitting on the bed next to yours by the time you returned. The clothes weren’t doing him any favors either. He’d managed to acquire a notepad in the time you’d been gone and was sketching something with a stumpy pencil.

“What are you drawing?” you asked.

“Trying to come up with ideas for a new logo for a business. I’m supposed to get back to them by Wednesday, which apparently isn’t happening.”

“It’s not like you don’t have a good reason,” you said. The tiefling shrugged.

“They don’t care about my reasons. They care about results. I don’t have any job security. They can fire me for any reason. One of those reasons can be not getting back to them in time.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. There wasn’t much else you could say. The tiefling sketched a few more lines, then grimaced and shoved the paper aside.

“No point. I can’t reference my notes or send this to anyone without my computer,” he said.

“You could think of it as an impromptu vacation,” you suggested. He glared at you.

“Ah, yes. This is the height of luxury,” he muttered, gesturing around the room.

“Yeah, it’s not great,” you agreed. “Not exactly a resort, is it?”

The tielfing chuckled dryly. “No, it is not.” He stretched out on his bed. “I haven’t introduced myself, have I? My name’s Essen.”

You told him your name and the two of you shook hands. “Maybe we shouldn’t be touching so much,” he said as you broke contact.

“It’s airborne, I think,” you said. “We probably already have it if we’re going to get it.”

“What a cheerful thought,” Essen said. He sank back onto the uncomfortable cot. You stared around the room in silence. More people had entered, looking morose and resigned.

“This place is so boring,” Essen complained after a few minutes. “Here.” He offered you the paper, which he’d drawn a tic-tac-toe board on. “Play me.”

You played him to a standstill back and forth a few times before moving on to other games, like Pictionary and one that involved flicking folded paper between fingers held up as goalposts.

Eventually the hazmat-wearing authorities passed out trays of food to you. It was a meager meal that you classed as better than airline food, but only just. Essen glared at the tray as though it had personally insulted every member of his family. As you had learned in the past few hours, it was extensive.

“If they’re keeping us trapped here, the least they can do is offer us decent food,” he said, prodding at it with a fork.

“It’s not that bad,” you said. “I mean, did you really think they were going to give us five-star restaurant food.”

He rolled his eyes and took a tentative bite, mouth twisting. Admittedly, you were having trouble stomaching it too. The mushy vegetables and incredibly overcooked meat weren’t exactly appetizing.

The authorities passed out little toiletry bags after that and you and Essen washed up. He yawned and stretched out in bed, tail twitching. “Good night,” he said. He buried under the thin blanket, covering most of his head with his hands.

You tried to sleep too- there wasn’t much more you could do. But the strange environment and the noises of children crying and people coughing and shifting about made you uncomfortable enough that you couldn’t sleep.

Just as you were finally starting to drift off to sleep, you heard a noise from Essen. You rolled over to look at him. In the dim, indirect light of the room, you could just barely see his expression. It was crumpled, forehead wrinkled and lips drawn up into a snarl. It looked like he was struggling against something. His tail lifted against the blankets, untucking them from the end of the bed. He made a strangled crying noise.

You scrambled out from bed and leaned over him before hesitating. You didn’t want to just wake someone up. Then he let out a whimper and you got over your anxiety.

“Hey!” You took hold of his shoulder and shook gingerly. He woke with a start, scrambling away from you and nearly falling out of the bed himself.

“Sorry,” you said, trying to wave away the curious gazes that fell on you two. “You were making noises in your sleep. Are you okay?”

His skin was too dark to tell if he was blushing, but given the way he shrank back against the bed and averted his gaze, you guessed he was. “Didn’t mean to wake you,” he muttered.

“Oh, you didn’t. I wasn’t asleep. I was having trouble falling asleep, actually.” Essen gave a weak smile.

“That’s good. I’m still sorry for disturbing you. I’m fine, though.” He sank back into his cot. There was a stiffness to him, though, that made you a little uncertain.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he said, a little too quickly. He relaxed into bed and, after a moment, you did the same, eventually falling asleep.

You were served breakfast soon after you woke up and then you were left mostly to your own devices throughout the day. There wasn’t an awful lot to do in the quarantine. They offered you some entertainment, in the form of books and a child-friendly movie playing on a projector, but you still felt restless. Essen apparently felt the same, given the amount of pacing he was doing.

“I’m going to go insane before we get out of here,” he said. “A week? They can’t keep us here for that long.” He tugged at his hair. You could almost hear his teeth grinding.

He was interrupted by someone across the room bursting into thick, rasping coughs. A few of the suited doctors converged on them and, after a moment, they were herded out of the room. Essen dropped onto your cot next to you.

“You’re not feeling sick, are you?” he asked. You shook your head.

“You?”

“No. I feel all right. Aside from the aforementioned boredom.” His tail flicked, tapping against your leg for a moment before whisking back to his side. “You’re handing this a lot better than I am. What’s your secret?”

“Thinking about the stuff at the museum. I figure if I can’t organize it there, I can organize it here. I’ll just do it physically when I get back.”

“How can you organize it if you can’t see where everything is?” he asked.

“I have a photographic memory. I remember exactly where everything was when I left it and the layout of the room, so I can sort things in my head. I can also go over some of the files I read when I left, so I can write up a report on them when I get back.”

He perked up. “Really? That’s amazing. I wish I could do that.”

“It’s not that exciting. I just have a really good visual memory. Anyway, it’s kind of a pain. I can’t reread books or anything because I remember everything that happened in them.”

“But it must still be really useful. You don’t forget anything you read, so you must be able to remember a lot of the details you need for your job.”

“It does make me a really good organizer. I don’t forget where anything is. I could give an entire tour of the museum in my mind probably, because I have the entire layout and all the information memorized,” you laughed. Essen’s eyes went wide.

“Please, would you?” he asked.

“You want me to give you a tour?” you asked. He nodded eagerly. “It’s not going to be that exciting. I can’t actually show you any of the objects we have or anything. I’m not much of an artist, so I can’t draw them or anything.”

“That’s all right. I’ll take anything.” Essen sat back in bed, looking at you expectantly.

By the end of the day, you had managed to get through most of the pre-treaty sections of the museum, with a special focus on the tiefling settlements that had occupied most of the continent.

“Fascinating,” he said over another slightly rubbery dinner. “I never realized exactly how many tiefling civilizations powered themselves with runic magic.”

“Runic magic’s really old school. There’s a big section of the museum dedicated to it. Actually, I wrote my graduate thesis on a few different runes and their speculated uses. It’s really a shame that we don’t know a lot of the runes that were used back then. I was trying to prove that the rune for fire could be activated through combination with the rune for earth using an undetermined connection rune, which would create hot spots in the ground for warming their towns during the winter.”

“Could they be activated together?” Essen asked.

“I didn’t prove it conclusively, but I think I showed a lot of evidence.” You put your tray aside. “It’ll be nice when we can actually head back home. Maybe I can give you an actual tour.”

Essen lounged across his cot, yawning widely. “It’s a date, then.” You could feel your cheeks going warm, and you quickly hurried to the bathroom to wash up for the night.

Again, you had trouble sleeping. Essen seemed to fall asleep immediately, but before you could join him, you heard him groan and roll over in his sleep.

You looked over. His expression was screwed up again, tail lashing with agitation. Hesitantly, you reached over and shook him awake.

“You were, uh. Kind of yelling in your sleep,” you told him. He sat up slowly, breathing in great, gasping gulps. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

He grimaced. “I said I don’t sleep well on planes, but I don’t really sleep well anywhere other than my home,” he said. “I don’t know what it is, but ever since I was a kid, I get nightmares everywhere but my house. It usually takes me a couple of weeks to get used to a new place.”

“I’ve heard of that disorder before,” you said. “When I was researching old tiefling civilizations. You’re probably descended from the guards who watched over their towns at night. You’re having nightmares because your body’s unsettled by the change in location.”

“That’s nice and all, but I don’t really care why it happens. I just want it to stop.” He sagged against his pillow, blinking heavily.

“Scooch over.” He frowned at you, but allowed you to get into bed next to him. “Um. It doesn’t always work and there are some better therapies for it, but in the short term, having a person watch over you while you sleep can help.”

Essen reached up to rest his hand gently over yours. “You don’t mind?”

“No. I don’t.” Your heart pounded in your chest as he nestled closer to you, eyes closing.

“If I have to be quarantined,” he said, “I’m glad that you were here with me.”

“Me too,” you said. His fingers tightened over yours and he gave a quiet sigh of contentment.

#exophilia #tiefling #Monster Quarantine #monster lover #tiefling lover #tiefling boyfriend

[mma3youf]

FA222 ,principles of graphic design:

Instructor: mr.munwar mukhtar

@uob-funoon @mnwrzmn

Project 1 : interviews

What is your given name, and user name on ZBrush Central?

My name is Khalid Abdulla Al-Muharraqi, my ZBrush Central user name is "Khalid72".

Tell us about your company, how did you start?

I set up Muharraqi-Studios to continue my family's history in the creative world and I am trying to continue to build on what my father started. The company was set up about two years ago after I left the commercial world of advertising with my partner Rashad who decided to leave a career in banking. We wanted to get together to make a place that allows us to be more creative. Since then we have been fortunate enough to work on some of the biggest projects in the middle east, and also continue working on our ideas and concepts, like our movie project. The most important thing for me is the work I do and that's what we are all about.

What is the size of your company?

The company is me and my partner, oh and our secretary... Keesha, a German Shepard! I am a hand's on guy and I do all the creative work myself. At first, I thought it was normal to carry that load because of the speed I work in, but later found out that I am actually very fast compared with bigger teams of artists in other studios. Finally I understood what people were telling me when they said I was 'unusual'. That’s why some of the CG magazines in Europe were amazed that a lot of our work is done by a one man team that puts all the 3D components together into a visualization. I work about 13 to 18 hours a day, I love 3D work, so my hobby and my work has joined into one, so … yes, very little time for a normal life.

What type of projects do you work on?

Well, I have been working on Architectural Visualizations since we started a couple of years ago, but I try to satisfy my urge to do what I really like, art!

You're located in Bahrain, somewhere most of us don't know about. Can you tell us how you learned your trade?

I love this question, Yes Bahrain is a small Island in the Persian gulf, we speak Arabic as our main language and English for the second, I will answer the second part in two parts, If you mean The art... I would say that I come from an artistic family, my father is one of the most well known artists in this part of the world, you can say that he is a household name in these parts. If you are asking were did I learn the 3D or CG art, I would say that I learned it by practicing for 8 hours a day after my official day of work, so I guess you can say I have been my own teacher in the industry.

Tell us a bit about your client base, mostly local, or do you have clients in Europe, Asia, America?

We serve clients from the Middle East, Europe and the Americas, I would say that I have been fortunate enough to have worked with some of the top people in the architectural industry, most of our clients are attracted to the type of work that we produce.

ow long have you been an artist?

Since I was six...I think! Well, the first painting I have sold when I was eleven. I was always painting and trying to find new techniques that will help create the concept in my mind.

Tell us about your background, your education, your mentors...

I studied art in Houston Texas for over seven years between interior decoration, photography, Visual communication, and digital enhancement or photo retouching, from there I have continued my working career in the commercial world. My first mentor would have to be my father, learned everything I know from him. He gave me the push start into the art world and made me feel it. There are also the books and artwork he has exposed me too with some of the top art in the world. A lot of names come to mind but I would say Frank Farazeta, Boris, The Creepy magazine and of course all the original Mad magazines and books that were very hot in the early 80's.

When you became an artist, did you first use traditional media?

For sure, I started with Pencil then got into crosshatching with ink, then I started painting with water colors and gouaches. I finally got into air brush art before I tried CG art.

What was your first CG package? What is your first 3D Package?

Nice question... first CG software was PSD, version 2, it was like magic... It felt strange especially that I was a traditional artist at the time. My first 3D package would be Alias Sketch for the Mac since I was a Mac user for a long time and did not have much 3D developers for Mac at the time. It was a new world for me and I think I still have a dusty copy of it today even after the software was canceled back in the early 90's, it just reminds me of my past.

How long have you been using ZBrush?

It has only been about six months, but I was up and running almost a few hours after I purchased it.

What made you try ZBrush?

I was watching some of the tutorial videos on how to paint details on the Gnomon training DVD's, and that's when I was shocked to see that it is art on the computer! I did not believe it at first, but It was one of the happiest moments when I first installed my first copy of ZBrush and started painting geometry for the first time, it reminded me with the days when I was pushing and pulling real clay to make a small creature of my imagination when I was a kid.

What's your favorite ZBrush feature?

The ability to paint geometry like it is physically in my hands.

How has ZBrush enabled you to express yourself in ways other packages couldn't?

Well you cant really compare it with any other software, it's simply too different! It changes how a CG artist works, it changes how he looks at things, has changed the industry to the next future leap, and who would want to go back to the past....? I would simply say that the concept of the software is very smart and impressive, my only wish to add on it is to have a bigger view port :)

Now onto "Floating Islands"Tell us about your creative process, how did this concept emerge?

One evening when I was stuck in the studio waiting for clients approval on a project that I was preparing for the kingdom of Bahrain, I was trying to get free again and relax my mind from all boundaries, I started to sketch a concept that has bean in my mind since I was a kid, the island that was then discovered to be on the back of a whale, these were some of the old middle eastern stories about Sinbad's magical voyages.

Do ideas just come to you out of nowhere, or are there particular artists or work you are inspired by?

I am always inspired by everything that is beautiful, whether it is an artist or a design or just Gods creation, I would also say that I have always had my own style in my work and almost never try to follow a certain style that I have seen.

I love this piece, can you tell me about the process of creating it? Have you explored this style before? Or was this created for something specific?

The process was, a sketch or the map as I would call it, and that would be the basis of my creation, I almost never start without it, once I crack the direction then I would start thinking about the execution and the path to take. About the style, well I don't think of my work as style, I think it is more towards I do what I feel, it is only when I am finished with it that I say "Yes! That's what I was tying to do". I almost never tried to repeat a style that I have seen elsewhere on my work. I feel that It is like a code of respect between artists.

In your image "Floating Islands" where was ZBrush used?

ZBrush helped me sculpt the geometry and take it to the next level in a short time. Modeling, UVs, Painting and scenes setups was between Lightwave and Modo. With ZBrush I was able to put the final touches that would make it come to life. ZBrush helped me start painting the UV map textures and setting up the foundation of the look and feel. I also generated some of the whales textures by the amazing ZMapper ;)

Tell us about your pipeline.

I start with Modo, then go to ZBrush, then finally render with Lightwave. The thing with software today is that they work hand in hand to complete each other, for instance ZBrush is very specialized in what it does, it focuses on the need of the artist and helps the creator to complete his task sufficiently with a smooth flow, artists have never had it this good.

What projects are you working on now?

We have just completed the visualization for the Master Plan for the Kingdom of Bahrain with one of the leading Architectural firms in the world, we have helped restructure and rebuild old and new cities for the country. Now I will be working more onto the movie project that we have been trying to get the time to start, hopefully I will be able to focus more on creating more Characters and environments for the movie.

Any last comments for us?

I would like to say Thank you to Manuel at Pixologic and Pixologic for appreciating the work I do. I would also like to thank all the development team and staff at Pixologic for there dedication to work together to help create some of the best tools ever created for the CG industry, I always expect the ideas to be fresh and most importantly designed for the end user, the artist, allowing the artist to continue being an artist without the restrictions and boundaries of a computer.

[hecohansen31]

okay but king!michael langdon, hiring a painter to paint him, and the reader arrived, prepared with all their materials. except, michael wants the reader to paint him as he jerks off 🥵🥵🥵

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

Sorry for taking quite some time with this ask!

And before I leave you, I just wanted to denounce myself with saying that this is highly unhistorically accurate, although I just wanted to give some shoutouts to badass Reinassance and Maniersm artist ladies: Sofonisba Angussola, without whom we wouldn’t have Caravaggio and the infamous Artemisia Gentileschi (I have seen live the ‘Judith kills Oloferne’ and let me tell you... IT IS FUCKING GORGEOUS!).

Also the iconography of Michael is taken from ‘San Michael catches from Heaven the fallen angels’ by Domenico Beccafumi,

A lot of women artists were also given by the place I study at, for which I am very proud!

This is all (sorry I just had to give an history lessons, because I love art history!), have a nice reading!

WARNINGS: Historically Inaccurate, Art, Mention of Sex-Masturbation, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism.

Being asked to paint a cardinal was a great honor for your father, no matter how much he tried to dissimulate his talent and his ambition with a soft smile and a wave of hand.

He could think that Rome wasn’t much, but you were enthralled by its beauty, the golden shining and the ruins standing tall no matter how much time had passed.

And then you had met cardinal Michael Borgia, the man who your father would have to portray in his time in Rome, the arriving point of his career, after he had started in a small city in the center of Italy, painting mostly churches and altar paintings.

But for you, it’d be a starting point.

Girls were always supposed to ‘work’ as dutiful mothers and daughters, if not wives, by a certain time, as they grew old enough to bear children, but when your mother had died when you were nothing but a child, your father had grown you as a boy, and as his rightful heir in the artistic surroundings.

He had taken in you as his rightful apprentice, and he had insisted that you followed him to Rome to sketch the cardinal in order for him then to complete the drawing.

You knew that if you did well, your father might even make you direct some of the works in his shop, coordinating with him.

And maybe one day, you’d be the one called in to paint a cardinal.

‘I hope so, little flower’ he had smiled, kissing your forehead before you set up in your small private rooms inside the Borgia palace.

So, you couldn’t help but feel extremely nervous when you had your first sitting with the cardinal, knowing perfectly how haughty cardinals could be, acting as if they owned the place.

And Michael Borgia wasn’t an exception.

He appeared in his red robes, smirking teasingly at you as you bowed at him, although surprise also shone on his face, evidently not used to female painters.

Many weren’t hence why your father hid you.

“Your Sanctity” you uttered breaking the uncomfortable silence as you moved slightly to show him the sitting chair, so that you could go back to hiding yourself behind your canvas, checking the colors and the brushes, till the cardinal coughed lightly to obtain your attention “… is there something wrong, my lord?”.

“I just thought that the great Francesco Savini would have been a man, not a gorgeous woman” you were damnably ashamed by the flush on your cheeks at his compliment.

You weren’t classically beautiful, even less in your work clothes, composed by pants and a light shirt, enough to allow you easier movements, so that you could comfortably paint and give your best.

“… my father is Francesco” you squeaked almost as a little mouse “… I am (Y/N) Savini, and I’ll take the first sketch of you, and then my father will complete the drawing”.

He looked at you curiously as if you were a new toy solely for him.

Ready to be broken.

And the thing made you feel extremely uneasy, although you hid it, backing up further till you hit your own sitting chair.

“… naturally that will be, if you don’t have a problem with me sketching you, monsignore”.

He shook his head lightly, his elegant curls softly catching the light of the first hours of the day, since you had insisted to set yourself up in a room with a huge window when the sun was at its peak in order to be helped in conjuring the man’s unearthly beauty.

Although he wasn’t as famous as his dark brother Cesare, Michael Borgia was known for his heavenly appearance and you could confirm it with the way his hair shone with the natural light and his eyes pierced through you in an almost feline gaze.

Certainly, he had a predatory gaze in them.

“No no, it won’t be a problem” you had expected him to protest, insist that he would like immediately to meet up with your father.

That he couldn’t trust an apprentice.

A woman even more.

But he simply sat down on the chair and you immediately went back to your canvas, sketching the beginning scheme, till you heard again the rustling of robes and thought nothing of it, thinking that the cardinal was simply getting himself comfortable, but the rustling continued and you peaked lightly your head from the canvas.

And found out that he had discarded the upper part of his robe, leaving his chest naked, something which made you open your mouth, at first for surprise but then to take in the lean physique of the beautiful angel.

A painting of your own appeared in your mind, but soon your mouth found the ability to speak and you blurted out.

“… what are you doing, your sanctity?”.

He simply sent you a small smirk, but moved his hand away from the lower robes, something for which you were thankful, because his hips were already distracting enough.

“Hasn’t your father told you about what I asked of him for this portrait?” his tone now was damnably shaming, as if he was talking to someone beneath him “… I asked him to paint me as ‘Saint Michael pushing out of Heaven the rebellious angels’ and if I am not wrong…”.

He had smirked softly then and opened his plump lips to complete the phrase, but you didn’t catch the sound, too focused on the perfect shade of them.

“…  angels are naked, aren’t they?”.

Not exactly.

It mostly happened if they were children or if they were simple models.

You, yourself, had studied the human anatomy on model, both males and females, much to your embarrassment, but to paint such a beautiful and powerful man, naked…

… it almost suffocated you.

“… oh yeah… ahem… but not completely naked” ‘please just spare me this’.

“I’ll keep my most intimate bits to myself, don’t worry lady Savini” he promised, and you just took a deep breath, remembering yourself that you just needed to be professional.

If not for your big occasion, to avoid your father any kind of shame.

“Thank you, my lord” you hid behind the canvas, gently relaxing yourself with the thought of your father’s praise “… whenever you are ready let me know and I’ll start”.

“Of course, lady Savini” he had promised with a smart smirk, before rustling of fabric had emptied the awkward silence between you two “… I am ready”.

And again as you had moved to face him, your breath had been stolen by your mouth and although he had indeed kept himself covered with a soft piece of white fabric his entire body was exposed to you and you couldn’t help but blush, again calming your breath with a deep huff before you started to sketch the position, trying to focus on the more technical part of it.

“Have you ever done something like this, lady Savini?” you were used to vases of fruits who didn’t speak so you couldn’t help but be startled as the man behind the canvas spoke to you and you almost made the pencil in your hands fall, grabbing it at the last second.

“… something like what, your sanctity?” you asked unsure, hiding further in yourself, as you traced sudden lines.

“There is no need for such formalities, when you have seen me almost naked, lady Savini” he insisted, although his tone was damnably teasing “… and I mean if you have ever done a portrait or if I am your first”.

The tone with which he had pronounced the words sounded downright sinful and you couldn’t help but blush, nodding almost as if he could see you.

“You are my first” your voice spoke with innocence “… portrait… I haven’t… men don’t take kindly to women ‘stealing their jobs’ “.

You almost wanted to eat back all you had said, but he simply laughed out loud.

“… on that I can agree, lady Savini”.

“Just call me (Y/N)” you mumbled softly, since he had been graceful enough to avoid the formalities and you weren’t exactly a lady “… and I am glad we can see eye to eye”.

“I do think so too” again that sensual smirk, as if his tone had a secretive undertone he was sharing simply with you “… I do like the fact that the person who portrays me has to have my same sense of things”.

“I’ll try to do my best” and then you joked softly, to alleviate the tense air “… and the talent of an artist should also be coordinated with the ability of the model”.

Michael laughed genuinely and you couldn’t help but love that soft laugh, almost scared of being heard.

And then you went back to studying his features, till you had the sketch down to a t, only the face being left outside of your drawing, making you wonder constantly about what you had to do to make it all better.

And Michael caught your uneasiness.

“Is something wrong?” you raised your gaze from the canvas, looking at him in the eyes and wondering what you could change.

“… I am just… I am just having trouble with the face” you hoped he wouldn’t take it as a personal offence, but Michael simply smirked “… I just don’t understand how… I can’t choose which one is the best”.

“… then let me help you”.

And then before you were able to understand what was happening, Michael reached softly under the white fabric, pushing it a bit further up in order for him to touch under the fabric… down there.

In a shameful gesture that looked so free and natural.

“I might have an idea” and even under the fabric you could see his hand tugging himself, in a way that sounded so obscene yet so damnably alive “… shouldn’t he look like he just received the ecstasy of God?”.

You didn’t know what to say, but he just kept on gently pushing his member to swell under the fabric, till its silhouette was visible.

And it made you lose any breath from your lungs.

And your inspiration suddenly spiked up, as your hand found itself on your pencil quickly tracing the gorgeous shape of Michael’s biting lips, and the way his eyes brightened just before darkening as he brought himself over the edge.

And you caught that delicious shapes of his eyebrows scrunching rather ungraciously, although it made the entire painting damnably human and as you shot a look at the canvas…

… you understood it was the best thing you would have ever painted.

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