#can draw and paint like nobody's business

[xanaxcoded]

nsfw

clingy!sejanus plinth who calls you several times a day when he's away from you.

being the face of the plinth name, it was busy. he hated being away on a work trip more than anything, not being able to see you, hear you,

...touch you.

in all honestly, sejanus was clingy. more than he'd like to admit. when he was with you, he couldn't keep his hands off. his large hands were always on you, fingers curling around your waist, palm slotted between your thighs innocently, he just couldn't keep his hands to himself.

so now, being all alone for, what, five days now? who could blame him for getting a little desperate?

he speaks into the phone with a low murmur, chit-chatting about your day, just small talk, the usual.

and he could hear the weariness in your voice, the sleep ebbing from your words. he would give anything to be there, to put you to sleep.

"um, so... you miss me?" he asks sheepishly, shifting on the satin sheets of whatever fancy hotel he was staying at this time. it was a stupid question, sure, and maybe sejanus already knew the answer, but he needed to hear it from you.

"of course i miss you, baby. i've been all lonely, wish you'd just come home already." you're quick to answer, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

and it was true. with nobody to entertain you, it had gotten lonesome. you would find yourself slipping a shy hand into your shorts while thinking about sejanus shamefully a lot more often now.

"mmm. that's what i like to hear." he replies, his lazy smile audible through the line. he could practically hear your exhaustion, and his mind had already began to wander.

you, laid out on your shared king sized bed, wearing nothing but... maybe a t-shirt and underwear? that's what you usually wore to bed, yeah.

the boy feels his cheeks heat up and a jolt of warmth run down his spine when he lets himself fantasize. maybe you'd lay on your stomach, goosebumps pricking at the exposed skin of your thighs.

...fuuuck. sejanus can feel the blood rush to his groin, bringing a hand over his eyes, bottom lip caught between his teeth to suppress the groan that threatens to escape.

"you're lonely, yeah?" he confirms, licking his dry lips that are desperately missing yours. "i wish i was there with you, honey. wanna touch you so bad, make you scream my name."

the line goes quiet for a while as you process those words, lips pursed as you can feel a familiar heat rush to your cunt.

he chuckles at your lack of response, knowing you well enough to guess that you'd be flustered. anybody would, it's only natural!

"...yeah. yeah, i want that too." you quietly respond, biting at the inside of your cheek. "i really want that."

"yeah? how bad, baby? c'mon,"

sejanus bites down on his bottom lip hard enough to almost draw blood, his hand traveling down from his neck, down his chest, fingers slipping past the elastic of his boxers.

"so bad. i miss you so bad. you have to come soon, sej, i need you—" you find yourself pleading, burying your face into the plush pillow.

"i know, i know angel. just— you can have me, over the phone, alright?"

that. that makes the slickness inbetween your thighs worsen, and you nod, a small sound escaping your throat in acknowledgment.

soon enough, sejanus finds himself teasing his half-chub, talking you through it over the staticy line.

"can you let me hear you, baby? please? just touch yourself, all nice and soft like you like it, okay?" he instructs, eyes fluttering closed as his mind paints a pretty picture.

"okay. okay,"

and you're quick to comply, hand slipping inside your lacy panties, fingers running over yourself.

a tired moan echoes through the line, and sejanus lets his jaw fall open, his fingers working slightly faster.

"miss you so much, pretty girl. wanna be there with you so bad. i'd fuck you so good, huh? you'd cry all pretty for me, wouldn't you?"

maybe it's the way he's practically cooing at you, talking to you like you're a small animal, but it makes something twist in your stomach. two fingers slip inside of you, and you let out a flushed whine, pressing the warm screen of the phone to your cheek, as if you'd be closer to sejanus that way.

"that's it. let me hear you, angel."

it takes all of sejanus' self-control to stop himself from bucking up into his hand, fucking himself into his fist like an animal—

but he doesn't. he wants to savor it, wants to drag it on for as long as he can. it would surely make up for all the lost time.

"need you, sej. please, please, i need you here,"

he hums in appreciation as he hears you gasp and moan, squeezing his eyes together and letting himself imagine just how you look right now.

his hand tightens around his cock, and a strained groan spills from his lips as his pace quickens just a little.

"juuust like that, baby. you sound so good. making yourself feel so good for me."

clingy!sejanus plinth who jerks off to your voice over the phone.

#lollll first post smut ?? k. #sejanus plinth #sejanus plinth x reader #tbosas #sejrot #sejanus plinth x you #sejanus plinth smut

[mediumgayitalian]

What are some of your Will headcanons?

Any angsty ones?

hair style:

will's hair has a Mind Of Its Own. it is impossible. brushing it? keep dreaming. styling it? dude just give up

he can, however, wrangle it into two french braid pigtails. those are fun.

in the august after the giant war, the aphrodite cabin take it upon themselves to 'style' nico, including giving him these little elastics with a skull charm (like this but with skulls), but he doesn't like tying his hair back very much (too tight) so he gives them to will as a joke.

will LOVES them.

he literally wears them almost every day. the next time they go out on a supply run, nico sees these little elastic charms and buys them for will. he can't summon the courage to give them to him face to face but he leaves them on his bed. will adores them, too, and it starts something of a tradition of people giving will charm elastics as a small thank-you.

he has a collection of them and wears them whenever he wears his hair in braids.

his favourites are the skull charms, though.

artistic ability:

will really doesn't have many musical talents. he's hard of hearing and while hephaestus-made hearing aids definitely work better than mortal ones, it's not really something that can be cured, so he has a lot of trouble staying on key/making music himself.

however! apollo is the god of poetry and art in general -- that is more than just visual!!

will is a really good writer, poetry especially. he's very articulate and verbose and writes with startling clarity. he's written a lot of songs and a lot of poems, although he hasn't shown anybody in years.

he used to share them with his older brothers and sisters and sibling, but...well. obviously that's no longer an option.

he's never stopped writing, though. he may keep it to himself, but it's kind of an open secret. he's scribbling in his notebooks all the time -- it's impossible not to notice.

his friends and siblings, however, are the only ones who know that he writes creatively. they've peeked over his shoulder here and there (and also kayla is a huge huge snoop, like, badly, and austin is easily convinced to be complacent in her crimes), and sometimes he says things that are just kind of poetic.

no one else knows, though. he's deliberately obnoxious about it -- every once in a while, at campfire open mics, he'll clear his throat loudly and grin as people groan and recite something so bad apollo might have written it. most people think will's quite bad at writing, actually.

another thing he's really good at is drama, which is a surprise to absolutely no one. although beyond his regular histrionics, chiron had shakespeare as part of his curriculum, and will could play puck like nobody's business. he recited a mercutio so good once lee actually cried with laughter (so did everyone else). on a hauntingly beautiful february in 2004, he played ophelia by the creek so beautifully that it was silent for a good four minutes after he finished.

there are very, very few people at camp who remember that. will hasn't recited anything in a while.

an unexpected bonus of his medical knowledge, actually, is a really good understanding of depth, space, and anatomy.

he's a surprisingly good artist.

it started pretty normal -- he was having trouble articulating a question to michael one time, and in a fit of frustration drew a diagram to try and explain himself. it was really good, even as rushed as it was, so michael used to give him 'homework' that was hand-drawing posters of various body systems to hang in the infirmary.

it was kind of spooky how will could do it without looking it up. just close his eyes and start sketching an accurate nervous system. cool though.

his older sister, cass, encouraged him to branch out of anatomy diagrams and create whatever he liked. she made the unfortunate mistake of giving him several cans of paint and free reigns on blank infirmary walls (they're freaky and boring) to a nerdy eight-year-old -- that's why r2d2 and c3po are chilling on the wall by the mortal medicine cabinet.

he doesn't paint a lot now, 'cause he doesn't have the damn time, but when rachel finds out who painted the infirmary walls she hounds him until he takes a morning to paint with her. they have a lot of fun. they end up with more paint on each other and their clothes than their canvases, predictably.

siblings:

when will was a kid, he had twelve older siblings.

apollo tends to have kids in brackets. he is, as everyone knows, a hoe, so he'll be busy on olympus or with artemis and go a while without having any kids, and then he'll be on earth for like three years and have a litter. so a lot of his kids end up the same age.

before the war, in the same cabin, there was: cass, the oldest, 18, somewhat year-long; diana, 18, year-long; lee, 16, somewhat year-long; michael, 16, somewhat year-long; gabriel, 15, summer-only; leanna, 15, summer-only; mercury, 15, summer-only; kate & phoebe, 14, summer-only; laurel, 13, summer-only; amir, 13, summer-only; melody, 12, summer-only; and will, 8, year-long (for now).

their abilites were pretty vast and well-rounded, and they came from all over the continent.

there was a time when the infirmary wasn't understaffed at all.

will doesn't like to think about it.

style:

on their birthdays, apollo leaves them all a gift on their bunks (or their beds at home, if their birthdays aren't in the summer).

each of them gets a piece of blessed gold jewelry when they're ten. will got a pair of threader earrings with thin blue sapphires that he loves. he can't wear them often because they're a genuine hazard in the infirmary (yes, more than flip-flops) and he doesn't want them ruined. but he wears them on the rare days he has off.

he actually has quite a lot of jewelry! because he is a sappy nerd, he has two watches: a hephaestus-made one, totally waterproof, weatherproof, and monsterproof, because it helps quell the anxiety when so many people are counting on him (he has to know when people will be better and how long he can be away from his patients, also used to tell people to fuck off when he's on break lol); and his mother's much nicer watch that she gave to him when she dropped him off at camp for the first time -- it's not changed for the time zone. he knows what time it is for her, and it makes him feel better about being so far away from her.

he wears both watches on the same wrist, ala chad danforth.

he has a third watch. it was lee's. it's got r2d2 on the face. will got it for him with his own money when he was nine years old, for his birthday. it lives in a box under his bunk. it's cracked and broken and never tells the right time except on 1:52 p.m. on june 30th, although the year gets farther and farther off every time will checks it.

contrary to popular belief, will does not actually wear the same pair of cargo shorts every day.

...because he has seven pairs of the same shorts.

he does have other shorts through. namely swim trunks and a pair of tighter shorts he wears specifically to kick ass in volleyball. he didn't try for this or anything, he got the shorts at the thrift store, but he's pretty sure they might be designer. he gets a lot of compliments from the aphrodite cabin when he wears them.

he also has a collection of nerdy t-shirts (his anakin sand-rant t-shirt is worn to threads), novelty pajama pants, hoodies, and flannel.

he has more than one tattoo. he has several, actually; constellations, lines from freckle to freckle so faint you can barely see them: the seer, the drummer, the archer, the tiny lion, the archangel, the maiden, the lyre, the twins, the boat stern, the hearth, and the singer.

just plain will:

he's slightly red-green colourblind.

when he gets mad, his cheeks puff up and he gets all red in the face before erupting. his older siblings used to call him tinkerbell.

he gets teased for being so dramatic that he was named for the most dramatic apollo kid who ever lived -- shakespeare. but his actual, legal name is just plain will solace. when pregnant, his mom used to mutter 'it's you, me, and sheer fucking force of will, baby' to herself a lot, as a kind of mantra, and then will was born and she thought it would be kind of funny to name him will (she was right). lee invented william andrew solace so he'd have something to yell when will got in trouble lol.

he has the climbing wall record. this is because he climbs a lot of trees. he has no explanation and no one is going to stop him.

when he was a kid, and the whole mythology thing was explained to him, he misnderstood michael's explanation of food sacrifice as one to be done to all theoi/mythical beings. he worked his way to praying through the entire pantheon, a horde of minor gods, hestia, chiron, argus, and half the nymphs before someone caught wind and explained to him properly. it is the main reason all the nymphs and dryads are so endeared by him. he used to go around asking their names and very seriously writing it down in his little notebook to pray to them properly.

he carries around notebooks constantly. at first, diana gave them to him because he was driving everyone bonkers with his endless questions and she needed Five Minutes, Will, Gods, Please of silence, but he really took to it and wrote everything in there. he keeps them all as a sort of diary. kayla reads them any time he has his back turned.

it is really, really hard for him to talk about his siblings. but he knows kayla and austin feel kind of left out and hurt about it, since they didn't get the chance to know them like will did (the kids never met them), so sometimes, late at night, he calls them softly over to his bunk and they curl up, one under each arm, and he tells them stories until his voice goes hoarse and they're long asleep.

#i have so many fucking more but i have to stop because i actually want to write some of these so bad #dude.....the LORE this ask inspired i have pages and pages #why did no one tell me how fun and also heartbreaking it is to invent characters #will solace #will solace headcanon #will solace angst #ask #longpost #headcanon #pjo headcanon #my writing #solangelo

[archangeldyke-all]

I know Sevika has her way with cards in a gambling sense but how about being a tarot card reader. It’s a shady business ofc but she’s just genuinely super good at reading people and bulshitting her way into people’s heads. She’d definitely pull the lovers card to get reader to go out with them. Oh and she’s HELLA charming, instead of scamming reader to buy some shit she’s “scamming” reader into going on a date with her.

this is SO cutelas;djf;laskdjf

men and minors dni

the markets of zaun are a wild place. whether you need a mercenary, exotic fruit, poisonous animals, or supernatural powers: you can find it all in the filthy, crowded, markets.

sevika learned at a young age that the key to surviving zaun was all about marketability. nobody in the under-city gives a fuck if someone;s fat or skinny, but they'd take interest in hearing that someone'd make a good bouncer or could fit in the tight spaces in the mine shafts.

nobody's going to pay an artist to paint-- but they might pay them to tattoo their skull or draw a caricature of them.

sevika's always known she's good at reading people: she just never knew how she could sell that to someone.

and then she discovered tarot cards.

within a month of her getting her first deck, she'd made enough money scamming people to buy her own storefront in the markets.

and now, she's running an incredibly lucrative business.

despite the fact that her store is decorated with various silky fabrics and crystal columns, despite the astrology posters on the walls and the candles and insence always burning: sevika uses no psychic powers in her readings.

it's mostly bullshit. occasionally, the 'official meanings' of the cards will line up with what she says, but she mostly just says what she knows her customers want to hear. (and sometimes what they need to hear.)

it's easy. the customer comes in, sevika takes one hard, good look at them, and nine times out of ten, she's able to figure out what they're hoping to hear.

then, once she gets them talking and gets the details out-- she's able to bullshit some pretty accurate guesses about their lives, just to convince them they're in the presence of a 'true psychic.'

some people need encouragement-- to quit their jobs or to ask someone out. some people need a 'sign'-- that their deceased love one is protecting them, that things will be okay. some people just want an answer, stuck on a pointless question and unable to move on until they get closure. sevika's happy to supply. especially for how much they're paying her.

you work at the exotic pet store a few shops down from sevika's.

you're the only one who can see through her bullshit.

she's in love with you.

each day, around one in the afternoon, she takes a smoke break at the little table in front of her shop, waiting for you to walk by on your way to lunch.

each time, you smile at her, roll your eyes, and ask, "scammed anymore innocent believers today sev?"

"made three hundred bucks since we opened." she boasts. "want me to take you to dinner with the earnings?" she asks. you laugh and flip her off, continuing your walk.

sometimes she'll come visit you when her days are slow. if you're not busy, she'll 'give you a reading' at the counter of the shop, whispering so neither of you alert your manager that you're not working.

she has to shuffle and organize them before she comes in, because each and every time she's 'giving you a reading' she pulls the lovers, and grins at you. "looks like you've got a blossoming love interest." she says. you snort and roll your eyes.

"oh, do i? pull another, tell me what they're like."

sevika grins, pulling three more cards. "oh. i'm seeing here that she's... tall... strong... hmm... definitely rich..." she says. you snort, and sevika peeks one eye open at you. "half ponytail... her name starts with an 's' sound... ssssarah?" she tries. "no... that's not right..." she blinks at you for help, and you burst into laughter.

"get out of here, my manager's gonna be back from lunch soon." you say. sevika blows a kiss at you on her way out.

you can't deny that she's charming. you understand why so many gullible customers trust her with their lives. you watch her walk back toward her shop through the window, biting your lip as you watch her ass sway.

she finally asks you out after a few months of you guys flirting.

all day, you have people coming into your shop, finding you, and handing you flowers. each time you ask them why, they shrug, simply saying that their psychic told them to give flowers to the 'closest beautiful woman' they could find.

most of them assume that you're going to fall in love with them the second they hand you the bundle of flowers-- not knowing that their psychic is using them and their desperation for love to secondhand hit on you. you just thank them, smiling sweetly before letting them down gently, encouraging them to try the next girl they see.

you're exhausted by the end of the night, and about ready to strangle sevika.

but as you leave you bump into her. at the sight of her, all your frustrations from the annoying little prank she pulled melt away.

she's in a fancy suit, her hair neatly combed behind her ears, her eyes nervous-- darting around and never quite meeting your eye. she holds no tarot cards, only a single red rose that she thrusts into your chest the second she sees you.

you stare sweetly down at the rose, sighing softly before speaking. "you're so fucking annoying." you say, warmly. sevika chuckles nervously.

"do you want to go on a date with me?" she asks. you smirk, looking up from the rose to admire her.

"well, i should probably ask my tarot reader-- i trust her with my life." you say. sevika grins, reaches behind her, then pulls the lovers card from somewhere behind her back. you burst into laughter.

"the cards say yes." she says. you roll your eyes, reaching out to smack her shoulder, melting a bit at the sweet smile she shoots you. "...so?" she asks.

"fine." you say, giggling. "i guess i can't go against the cards, huh?" you ask.

sevika just grins, swooping in to kiss you.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

[abyssal-ambience]

prefacing this with I'm not necessarily punk, but I like customizing my clothes. and i wanna help other people find stuff for battle jackets! (and other stuff) I'm not the authority on this, but I still want to give my two cents!! also don't expect much more to this, my profile is pure cringe.

If anyone is starting out and I can help, I'd like too!!

The spike/stud dilemma

one of the biggest issues i've noticed is "where do I find studs/spikes without fast fashion??" which is totally fair. something like that shouldn't have to be a minefield. obviously if you buy from a small business that re-sells them from aliexpress you're still indirectly supporting aliexpress.

im sure there ARE slow fashion alternatives and if anyone knows some please let me know so I can add it!!

BUT here's what I'd recommend.

-goodwill bins, sometimes they have old clothes or broken belts, very rare though. also any thrift store or reclaimed craft store.

-Local businesses, sex shops

-metal paper fasteners

-borrowing. it's inevitable, I know. JOANNs is definitely the best selection imo, but Hobby Lobby is better to steal from. Because They are Terrible. Michael's is OK but less selection usually. They use peal off tags usually which are easy to remove.

-also if you're feeling extra insane, hot topic uses mainly ink tags, which can be removed with heat (look up tutorials on) or just cut off a stud/spike belt. their studs are pretty easy to remove. same with bracelets, they break a lot. ofc it depends on the place whether they use beep beep tags.

-ask people for broken shit!

TEXTILES (the easy part)

-fabric samples are easy to find for free online. get whatever colors you want, i usually stick to black, white, grey and 1-3 other colors. they're usually pretty small so order around until you find the right size. you want cotton and linen, usually upholstery if you're painting on them. if you're not or you're ok working with leather, leather is easy to find too. A lot of companies mentioned how stretchy your material is something not stretchy most cases.

-FACEBOOK!! A.K.A the boomer method. This is where I got almost all of mine!! I recommend downloading FREEBIE as well! I got mine thru that, it links to facebook, nextdoor, and so on. Ofc you can pay for them- but you don't have to! I have lifetime supply of textiles basically bc of this. A lot of people get them for hobbies or work.

-the goodwill bins!!!! you can absolutely find fabric there, it's pretty common actually

-you don't need to steal this tbh it's easy to find second hand and less wasteful

PAINTING

-Facebook, goodwill, or reclaimed/used craft stores if you have them

-borrowing (same places)

-use something like Painter Eye (AR tracing app) and draw out any complex band logos etc.

-you can also use sharpies or whatever nobody's stopping you

Other stuff

-one of the best ways to find stuff is just GO FOR A WALK! Find little shiny objects!

-hardware stores are good so are army surplus

#diy projects #punk #crust punk #battle jacket #crust pants #crust punx #local music #diy punx

[formosusiniquis]

“There's a goblin, crouched over a large stone table. He's got long greasy hair that probably hasn't ever been washed and his clothes are ripped and ugly. He smells like pipe smoke and mutters to himself as you approach.”

Steve sighs and bravely stops himself from beating his head repeatedly against the table, “Erica.”

“What?” she’s even less affected by his chiding when she’s behind her DM screen, and she wasn’t that affected to begin with. “I'm just describing the character.”

“I'm sorry I said it was adorable, okay! Is that what you want to hear?”

Robin abandons her dice tower to glare at him, “Dingus, what'd you do?”

“Opened his big mouth when he shouldn't have.” A true if mostly inaccurate description of what happened, but he should have known better than to try to speak when Erica actually opened up a little.

“Dude, you know when you annoy Erica the rest of us suffer.” Now Dustin is whining, as if Steve weren’t being punished enough.

“I don't see how anyone is suffering,” but him. Steve definitely feels like he is suffering .

Robin leans in close and whispers, “You'll tell me later?” It’s a Robin whisper though, and it doesn’t go unheard by their temperamental pre-teen DM.

“The goblin is oblivious to the party too busy fooling around with poorly painted figurines-”

“That's out of line.” He’s got his dad voice out now, this was supposed to be a fun session and now he’s parenting.

“That's where you're gonna draw it?” She actually seems surprised by that, eyebrow arched at the idea that she found Steve’s line in the sand.

“Nobody has insulted the things you've worked on.”

“Fine, he's fooling around with his perfectly fine figurines, but he won't shut up about changed princes.”

He can feel it click for Robin, she shoves him almost off of the Sinclair’s overstuffed couch. He won’t look at her, he doesn’t want to look at her stupid I’m gonna mock you face. “Stephan!”

“I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings,” he apologizes, “I really do think it's cute.” But he’s not ready to grovel yet.

“Can dish it out but you can't take it, Harrington.” he rubs a hand down his face, pushing the impending headache this whole thing is causing back into his brain as best he can, and when he looks back up he sees an eleven year old.

“I wasn't dishing anything,” he says, remembering how awful and uncomfortable it was to be eleven. To have crushes and feelings that you didn’t know what to do about, and how much worse it was to not have anyone to help you figure them all out.

“Promise,” her lip doesn’t wobble and her tone doesn’t shake because she’s Erica Sinclair future president of the world, but the youth and the nerves are there all the same.

“Promise.”

“Fine, don't ever try to talk to me about this again.”

“Again, I was agreeing with you.” Because he’s still him and she’s still her and if he let it go too easily there would be just as much hell to pay. “I was saying you have good taste.”

“Stop, I have seen where your current tastes are. Don't align me with you.”

“Fine, fine. Are you going to be nicer?”

“I guess. As you walk into the cave you pass through a powerful illusion, you see that the goblin is really an average looking human man who probably washes his hair at least sometimes.” It’s really the best he could hope for, he figures.

“Wait, is this Eddie?” Dustin’s shrieking as he finally catches up with the interpersonal drama happening at the table is liable to send them back to the start.

“No, and he's not average looking.” He’s not sure who that comment is meant for. Erica for suggesting it or Dustin for finally catching up because of it.

“Mind your business,” Erica shoots back, just as done with the conversation as Steve is, “or your spell components are gonna get harder to find. And he’s not exactly anything to write home about.”

“Can we get back to it,” Robin interrupts, the true love of his life and the jealous hoarder of all opportunities to bully him about his love life, “I was promised a fight for my new dagger and I will use it on this gremlin man who seems like he needs to expand his music tastes if I have to.”

“Robin!” She deserves to get her punches in, he guesses, and if it’s his turn to get mocked by the Scoops Troop at least it’s not happening on a bathroom floor.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve and erica #scoops troop #first of all i subscribe to a scoops troop dnd game #second my new favorite thing is the steve and erica sibling like friendship #someone has made a post about how erica would bully steve when she finds out he likes eddie and this is my take #its also my deeply held personal headcanon that erica had a little crush on robin in s3 #so that is the thing that steve thought was cute and erica is now out for blood about #she needs an older sibling she can mock about taste cause lucas is dating max and you know erica thinks max is the coolest #anyway enjoy this little lunch break ficlet

[aro-with-bad-aim]

I love how almost everything is connected in will woods music so I’m gonna ramble about it (hopefully coherently) to spare people who know me in real life.

Firstly (I’ve already mentioned this on another post about this band), going all the way back to a verbal equinox, the character of dr sunshine shows up again in self- ish in dr sunshine is dead. Also the line “I’m far too weird to live, but I ain’t too weird to die” is reworked to “too weird to love, too scared to die” in outliars and hyppocrites.

Going to EIAL, the phrase “draw a line in the sand” from chemical overreaction is also seen in Marsha thankk you for the dialectics. And omg destroy to enjoy is pretty much just a reference to self- ish. The line “glory be satori but it’s all hallucinatory…” is in 2012, also with a reference to “mahaprajnaparimita” which also is mentioned in 2012.

Self- ish is pretty much all connected, with the first and last songs, self and ish, basically being one song split into two. Dr sunshine is dead, cotards solution and mr capgras are all connected musically, and also interestingly capgras and cotards are both mental illnesses, specially delusions, which makes their connection to dr sunshine make more sense (that might be a bit of a stretch though). The song with five names and hand me my shovel I’m going in are perfect parallels, and the repeated lyrics less tune of “gotta get to the bottom of this” playing in the second verse of the song with five names can also kinda be heard in wealth and hellness by human zoo in the bit will wood sings in. There’s also the reference to hand me my shovel I’m going in during half decade hangover. The song had come out in 2016, which was just over half a decade before icimi came out. 2012 is interestingly the only one without much of a connection. Not sure why yet, might just be for the sake of it.

The normal album. I love the normal album. Suburbia overture references the other songs so much and I love it. (There’s only one other album that I know does this: enter a beginners guide to faking your death by jhraiah- go listen to it). The first reference to another song is the line “myers briggs, okultra” which is a reference to Blackboxwarrior okultra. It’s also kinda interesting that it’s referenced alongside a “psychology” term as the song is full of psychology references. The second reference is “everybody knows that, nobody knows that, everybody’s all up in my- everybody’s all up in my- everybody’s all up in my business” which is a reference to …well better than the alternative. During the spoke part of vampire culture, the backing music is from Blackboxwarrior. The line “you pull out your roscharch like a paint by numbers treasure map” could be a reference to outliars and hyppocrates, in the line “prints of your fingers in the roscharch jigsaw say you saw a treasure map”. Finally and obviously, love me normally is referenced in the title of the song, and the end of the song is the beginning to love me normally. I don’t know if this is a stretch/ coincidence, but a part of good morning campers from chnt (or welcome to camp here and there, l can’t remember) kind of sounds like the part of outliars and hyppocrates: “who’s wanna be human anyways, i mean what do people do”.

I can’t find any connections that I haven’t already mentioned in icimi because I haven’t been listening to it as much (most songs make me cry), but its still a good album :D

#Will wood #will wood and the tapeworms #a verbal equinox #eial #everything is a lot #self ish #the normal album #icimi

[verk0my]

i love your art style! any tips for beginner artists?

thank you so much!! here're a few that popped into my head:

always use references! if you don't know how to draw something - look it up on the internet or (even better!) take a picture of yourself and draw it. drawing things from photos and nature will help you improve much faster than trying to draw everything from imagination and memory. ps. try not to use references drawn by someone else in the beginning because then you'll most definitely duplicate someone else's possible mistakes and we don't want that.

don't focus too much on finding your own art style. learn the rules first so you can break them later and apply them to your drawings. I can't count how many times I was angry that each of my drawings looked different until I realized that this is also a part of the whole "finding my own art style" process, so look for interesting styles and be inspired by artists you like.

and I don't know if this is a tip but I feel like I need to say this - it's okay to be inspired by someone else's art style. my art for a very long time was inspired by burdgebug (raise your hand if she was your art style goddess too) and many times I even copied her drawings too, and that is fine HOWEVER I never posted them anywhere and signed them as my own. and my point is - study art styles that you want your own style to be based on but never copy or trace someone else's drawings and post them as your own. AND if you draw something inspired by your favorite artist - tag them! I'm sure they'll be thrilled to see that their work has inspired someone. :)

digital art and tablets are great but don't forget about sketchbooks! using different types of media, from pencils to paints, give you freedom that no screen can. and if you're posting your art on social media - don't feel pressure to post every sketch online, not everything you draw has to be content.

also not everything you draw has to be perfect, let yourself experiment and learn from it!

if you're drawing digitally remember to flip your canvas! and if you're drawing traditionally you can look at your drawing in the mirror or take photo of it and flip it in the photo editing app.

don't shade with black! it will make your drawing look mudy.

I really like to draw studies from my favorite movies or tv shows because they allow me to learn how the light and shadow work in different setups so I recommend you doing that too!

I know it sounds scary but try to draw full bodies and backgrounds too and not only portraits (but they're so fun to draw right?!) so you'll improve all of these three things at the same rate. I was teriffied of drawing feet for a very long time and look where I am now - still can't draw them, why do people even need feet...

and what is most important - have fun! draw what you want, experiment, use defferent medias and art styles and find what suits you best. it's a very long road, a lifelong even, so don't be upset at first if something doesn't look the way you wanted it to (it hardly ever does even if you're on the higher level in being an artist). someday you'll be able to draw something that you've imagined for years and it's the greatest feeling in the whole world! just be patient and try to enjoy the road you're on instead of looking at the final destination.

bonus tip or more of a uplift for begginer artist that post their drawings on social media: YOU ARE AWESOME AND YOU DESERVE EVERY RECOGNISION, try not to pay attention to engagement and numbers on your posts because they can ruin your motivation like nobody's business, and remember that you are what you create and not how your art performs on the internet. <3

that's a long ass post, but I hope it's somehow helpful! I could make a post with useful resources (mostly for digital art) so let me know if you'd be interesed in that~!

#asks #art tips #text

[kiyzeiin]

Okay so I love love LOVE the way you draw the monkey d family it FUELS MY SOUL. I’m new to this app and I have lived my whole life thinking nobody drew them due to there being a lack of it but HERE WE ARE!! I absolutely love the luffys mom design and need to know everything about her. May we have a fun fact abt her? (If not that’s cool too)

thank you sm!!! ABSOLUTELY. i love her too. was waiting for someone to ask. this might be a little long.

she acts JUST like luffy. same mannerisms and everything. not as “empty headed” or frivolous but you get the idea. confronting, loud, blunt, selfish to the point where she’s extraordinarily selfless, etc..

samoan-austronesian ofc !!

she’s an international big-time con artist who steals(pirates) from local corrupt, rich leaders of different islands through her sea voyaging. she rarely uses the money for herself, but for the purpose of gifting it to the poor people who really need it. it’s a robin hood allegory. she’s very bright and quick-witted. and beats people up if they deserve it most importantly

traveled usually with friends from her home village and sometimes new people met venturing. unironically, very good wayfinder. she can navigate extremely well even without the help of her best friend, who was their ship’s navigator. she did this for 10+ years. the government wishes she would explode.

garp is more or less angry about this but mostly because her bounty would only continue to rise. meaning it’s dangerous. at that point, he’s like “oi sole !! fine! whatever she can handle herself i guess. it’s not like i can stop her !” it’s so funny to me, he can’t control his kid, his grandkids to come, or his son in law who just so happens to be the most wanted criminal in the world 😭 no one listens to him. i’m sure he feels crazy. most of his aiga are considered criminals.

may or may not be a devil fruit user. probably not tbh.

i figured since oda keeps insisting that luffy looks just like garp when he’s young and when he’s older, i thought yeah exactly ! luffy’s the spitting image of his mum too.

her and dragon met on her island when they were young. i’d say around the age 14-16. when they married many years later, dragon took her last name for reasons iykyk

before they married though, her and dragon went voyaging as well. they did many revolutionary missions/undertakings together. even before dragon named the endeavor a “revolutionary army.” this was the beginning.

dragon developed feelings for her and of course, it took her a long while to realize this.

luffy’s mom knows dadan. she’s an old friend of hers. wink wink. this is why garp is familiar with dadan and trusted luffy (and ace)with her.

i’d like to think(i DO think) they gave luffy over to dadan for safety reasons if we’re being honest. this is why luffy probably never saw his biological mom.

i like to paint luffy with a bit of pink in his eyes, a feature his mom and his grandpa garp, and previous maternal family members inherit. notice how gear 5 has pink-reddish eyes too !

after luffy was born she doesn’t scheme as much. things happened. with her bounty it’s not safe to stay in one place, but she does get to relax in her home village on every good occasion. she kinda has to play hopscotch between islands so they won’t be targeted.

*

these are just a couple of ideas i had about her. a little might change later but this is how i feel about her (possible) character. AUGHHH i really wish to expand more on this and draw more of her. i do have unfinished drawings of her in my cloud though. im super busy with college rn. i will post more art of the monkey d aiga (family) when i have the time to !!! i’m SO happy you like how i interpret them 💗💗💗

#luffys mom #monkey d dragon #monkey d luffy #monkey d garp #one piece #headcanons #i personally think she’d be cool asf #didn’t really consider herself a pirate until everyone else did cause she doesn’t like labels #high bounty so i guess that equates to pirate #she just does what she does #ask

[novamariestark]

Echoes, Fragments & Puzzle Pieces [B.B] [1/?]

Summary: You are a young woman, trying to live your life after captivity. You live in the shadows after escaping from an organisation known as The Syndicate, desperate to copy Hydra's work. You were to be their Winter Soldier but with added "bonuses". But, when opportunity knocks, will you answer it?

Warnings: none (I don't think), maybe indication of abuse. (Instead of Y/N I've put Lia, simply just to make it flow a bit better, but of course you can replace it with your name.)

Word count: 3256 (This one is longer than I intended so it'll be a mini-series)

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: eventual Bucky x reader

Part 2, Part 3,

The city's museum was usually a chill place to kill an afternoon—lots of old stuff, quiet corners, and enough space that nobody paid you much mind. You liked it that way. You were just another face in the crowd, easy to miss, easier to forget.

Wandering through an exhibit on ancient Greece, you stopped in front of a vase that showed a bunch of tiny warriors doing their battle thing. There was something about it that felt... loud. Like it was yelling at you through a megaphone, begging to be noticed.

Without thinking, you reached out and touched it. Bad idea.

Suddenly, the air fizzled like someone had cranked up the voltage, and the room got all twisty. The vase’s scene went high-def, the warriors popping out and doing their fighting dance right there in the middle of the museum. People around you gasped, their phones out, probably thinking this was some kind of flash mob deal.

But then, as quick as it started, the show stopped. The warriors went back to being boring old paint on pottery. Everyone was buzzing, looking around, trying to figure out what had just happened and who’d flipped the switch.

That's when your weird gift—or curse—kicked in and suddenly, you were about as noticeable as a piece of gum stuck under a park bench. You slipped through the crowd, who were too busy arguing about what they’d seen to remember the girl who’d started it all.

You were out in the cold air before the guards even made it to the empty spot where you had been standing a second ago. Your heart was doing the samba in your chest, and your head was full of questions with no answers. What the hell did I just do? I can’t believe it happened again.

After ducking out of the museum, your quick steps turned into a jog, then a full-blown sprint the moment your feet hit the pavement. The city was a living beast around you, and you melted into it, just another face in the late afternoon rush.

You didn’t stop until you reached your current hideout—a tiny, forgotten storage room above an old laundromat. The place smelt like fabric softener and rotten wood, but it was perfect.

You fumbled with the keys, your fingers still trembling. Inside, the room was just as you left it: small, cluttered with thrift store finds, and walls covered with a collage of drawings and photos—none of which were yours. You had hoped they’d trigger something, anything, about who you were. Who you used to be. So far, no luck.

You slumped onto the bed and let out a breath you didn't realize you’d been holding. The room was quiet, but your mind was loud.

Just as you were about to chalk up the day's craziness to yet another episode you’d rather forget, a knock came at the door. Three sharp taps, like the punchline to a joke you weren’t in on.

You froze. Nobody knocked in this place, mostly because nobody knew you were here. Slowly, you crept to the door and peered through the peephole.

On the other side stood a guy in a sharp suit with a face that screamed government agent or maybe vacuum cleaner salesman. Next to him, a woman with red hair and a look that said she could dropkick you without breaking a sweat. Definitely not salespeople.

You opened the door a crack, enough to be heard, not enough to be grabbed. "Can I help you?"

The man smiled, and it was a practiced thing, like he’d done it in front of a mirror. "Lia?" he asked, his voice smooth like a radio host's. "We need to talk."

The woman chimed in, her voice just as calm but carrying a weight that made you listen. "It's about what happened at the museum today. And it's about you."

Everything in you told you to slam the door, to run and never stop running. But something else, something tired of running and hiding, wanted to stay. Maybe they had answers. Maybe they could tell you who you really were.

So, you opened the door wider, stepped back, and let them walk in.

You moved towards the window; your body tensed for flight if it turned out these people were here to hurt you. As the quiet of your room settled back in around you, you studied your unexpected guests. Agent Coulson was giving you a kind of half-smile that seemed meant to reassure you, while Natasha looked like someone who didn't do much without a reason.

Natasha took a step forward, her eyes not just seeing you, but reading you, "We've been tracking incidents like the one at the museum for a while now," she said. "Unexplained phenomena. Memories made real. They've happened in cities across the globe—Paris, Cairo, Bangkok,”

Your heart skipped. You’d never thought much about how you ended up in those places. You just... went where you felt you needed to be, slipping onto planes and boats, always just out of sight, never questioned. No tickets, no passport, no problem. It was as if the world itself had forgotten you needed those things.

Coulson chimed in, "Your... talent, it's quite extraordinary. And it's brought you to our attention for a reason. We think you can be more than just a ghost moving through the crowds."

The words hit you harder than expected. A ghost—that's exactly what you’d felt like. A nobody. A nothing. Just someone on the run. Someone who didn’t have a home or a family at least not one you could remember. But these people—these Avengers? They were offering you a chance to be something more. What should you do?

Go or stay?

"We can help you," Natasha said, and it wasn't a question. "Help you control it, use it. You've been surviving, but you could be living. With us."

You looked between them, the offer hanging heavy in the air. You had spent so long hiding in plain sight, a part of you was screaming to keep it that way. Safe. Invisible. But another part—a part you’d buried deep long ago—wanted to step into the light, to be seen, to be somebody. To be loved.

Finally, you nodded. "I want... I want to understand," you said, the words a whisper but clear. "I want to remember."

Coulson’s smile turned genuine this time, and Natasha’s posture relaxed just a fraction. "Good," Natasha replied. "Because we start tomorrow. We'll teach you, train you. And maybe along the way, we'll find out where you've really come from."

Coulson reached out his hand, a card tucked between his fingers and you immediately recoiled. Natasha took the card from his hand and placed it on the table.

“It has the address on it,” she told you, keeping her distance from you, “Time too. Don’t be late,” she added walking out, Coulson following behind. He shot you a small, apologetic smile as he left.

***

After a night of tossing and turning, the dawn finally broke free and it was time to head out. Was this the start of your new life? Should you get your hopes up? Probably not. If you don’t, at least you won’t be disappointed.

After navigating the busy sidewalks and dodging psychotic cab drivers, you found yourself gazing up at the Avengers Tower, its glass facade reflecting the bustling city life below. It was massive, stretching up into the clouds like Jack’s beanstalk.

Taking a shaky breath, you stepped through the sliding doors. Your sneakers scuffed the gleaming floor of the Avengers Tower as you entered, your eyes darting up to the dizzying heights of the lobby's ceiling. The place was like a slice of the future, dropped right in the middle of New York City, all shiny metal and cool blue light.

You stood there for a second, feeling small and insignificant in the buzz of the place. People were everywhere, striding by, talking into earpieces, and tapping on tablets. Your heart thumped a nervous rhythm, but you squared your shoulders and took a step forward. No more hiding.

A man with a badge and a tie approached you with a business-like smile. "Lia?" His voice was smooth, practiced. He gestured toward the elevators with a sweep of his hand. "Right this way."

You rode up in silence, focusing on the numbers on the elevator panel climbing trying to distract yourself from the proximity of the stranger and the fact there was no escape. You felt the weight of the building above you, full of heroes and stories and now, maybe, a place for you too.

No. don’t get your hopes up. You told yourself.

The training floor was like stepping onto another planet. You hadn’t seen this much technology in an electronic store. It was all open space and moving parts, with areas marked out for fighting, climbing, and things you couldn't even hazard a guess at. High above, screens showed maps and data flickering past too fast for you to read.

Soon your gaze fell on Natasha, looking every inch the hero, you had seen on TV, but realer, somehow. "Glad you could make it," she said, and there was a thread of something like pride in her voice. You just nodded, forcing a small polite smile, “We’re gonna do some hand-to-hand combat, see what you can do. You okay with that?”

Not really, you thought, the last time you fought was for survival. Kill or be killed. You’d rather not have taken another life, but he left you no choice. But at least he deserved to die. There were others that didn’t. Others that died at your hand.

“Okay,” she murmured, the word barely making it out before being swallowed by the expanse of the room. It was a lie wrapped in a whisper.

Natasha nodded, sensing the tremor in your voice, the shadow of understanding passed over her eyes. "We'll take it slow," she assured, though you both knew that in combat, there's no such thing.

As you squared off, you could feel the ghosts of your past rising up, specters waiting to see if you’d fall back into your old patterns. But this was a new day, a new place, with rules you were still trying to understand. Here, you weren’t a weapon, but a lost soul seeking redemption—one carefully controlled move at a time.

Your practice session was in full swing when the heavy thud of boots drew your attention to the entrance, where you found the Avengers.

A tall blonde man led the pack, his presence commanding yet genial. He approached you with an easy stride, a congenial smile playing on his lips. "Hi, Lia. I'm Steve Rogers," he said, extending his hand in greeting.

The gesture, meant to be friendly, was a trigger. Your instincts, honed by too many betrayals and battles, kicked in. Your muscles tensed, your stance shifted, ready to move, to defend. You didn't see Captain America, the symbol of trust and bravery; you saw a potential threat, another combatant in the long line you had faced.

You recoiled sharply, stepping back and away from the offered hand. Steve's hand hung in the air. His smile faltered into a look of concern, and he slowly lowered his arm, taking a step back to respect your space. The reaction reminded him of what Bucky was like when he first arrived. The room filled with a tense silence, each Avenger processing the scene, recalibrating their approach.

"I... I'm sorry," You stammered, the words escaping you in a rush, "I didn't mean—"

Steve shook his head gently, cutting you off. "No need to apologize," he reassured you.

The other Avengers exchanged glances, their initial assessments of you now tinged with a new understanding. They saw not just a potential ally with valuable skills, but a person still grappling with the shadows of their past, still fighting a war within yourself that hadn't yet ended.

With the tension still hanging in the air like a thick fog. They didn't advance any further, but they continued their introductions, each mindful of your space.

Tony Stark, with his hands safely tucked away, gave a little wave from a distance. "Tony," he said simply, opting for a nod instead of his usual flamboyant welcome.

Bruce Banner offered a warm, empathetic smile, his hands clasped in front of him. "Bruce here. I know a thing or two about keeping a lid on it," he said with a gentle chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

Clint Barton remained where he was, leaning against the wall with a friendly grin. "Clint."

Thor’s voice, always filled with a regal boom, softened slightly out of respect for you, "Thor of Asgard," he introduced himself with a small bow of his head rather than his usual enthusiastic handshake.

Bucky Barnes watched you with an understanding that came from shared experiences. He simply nodded, his introduction a quiet murmur. "Bucky."

As the Avengers took their places along the edge of the training area, Natasha turned back to you, her expression both understanding and focused. "Ready to keep going?" she asked, her tone suggesting you could stop at any moment if you felt uncomfortable.

You nodded, your breath steadying as you found your footing again. The session resumed with Natasha guiding you through a series of defensive moves, demonstrating and then watching as you mimicked them. Your movements were precise, almost too perfect, each one carried out with a fluidity that spoke of muscle memory ingrained from countless battles.

After the session, they gathered to discuss privately, leaving you to reflect on your performance and your past. Each member had an opinion about you, Steve voiced his impression first, noting your skill and potential. Natasha spoke of your control and focus. Tony, ever the skeptic, remained quiet, observing and calculating. Bruce empathized with your struggle for control, and Clint expressed his belief in your abilities. Thor saw a warrior's spirit, and Bucky, he saw a reflection of his own path to redemption.Top of Form

"I know what it's like to be on the outside, to not know if you can control what you've become. She needs this. We might be the only ones who can help her." Bucky added, his voice steady and sure.

Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I get it. She's special, mysterious, but we're not a charity. We can't keep picking up strays." He added, he looked over to Bucky, “No offence, Robo-Cop,”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “I think we should give her a chance,” There were nods and a few "hmms" of agreement.

Tony was still on the fence and Nat rolled her eyes, “You can afford it,”

Tony shot her a mock glare, but the corners of his mouth twitched in amusement. "I suppose the Tower can house one more," he conceded, a begrudging warmth seeping into his voice, “There’s a spare room beside Wanda,”

Natasha found you where they'd left you, still on the training mat, now sitting you’re your knees pulled up to your chest, lost in thought. You looked up as Natasha approached, your guard visibly rising again.

Natasha didn't waste time with pleasantries. "You're in," she said, her voice carrying a firmness that left no room for doubt. "Welcome to the Avengers."

The words hung in the air for a moment, heavy with promise and uncertainty. Your face remained guarded, but a flicker of something—relief, perhaps, or cautious hope—passed over your features, "Thank you," you said, your voice almost a whisper.

Natasha gestured for you to follow. "Come on. I'll show you to your room."

You walked in silence as she led you to a room not far from the main living area. "This will be your space," she said, opening the door to a room that was simple and clean, with a bed, a desk, and a window that looked out over the city, “I know it’s bare but you can decorate it how you want,”

You stepped inside tentatively, your eyes taking in every detail of the room. It was more than you’d expected, a place of your own within this fortress of heroes. "It's perfect," you said, allowing yourself a small smile as you ran your fingers over the smooth fabric of the bedspread.

Natasha leaned against the doorframe as your eyes floated around the room, she spoke up softly as not to startle you, “Dinner is in an hour, it’s pizza night, any preference?”

“Cheese is okay,” you replied, not wanting to be awkward and order something too extra.

“Okay, we usually eat all together but I can bring it up and you can eat in here if you prefer,” she offered, you nodded, but something in her face showed that she already knew what your decision would be. She gave you a nod and a smile before closing the door to give you privacy.

Your eyes left the closed door and started scanning the room again. The walls were a soft shade of cream, bare and waiting for a personal touch. You weren’t sure you had. It had a bed, neatly made with crisp white linens and a sturdy desk sat patiently against one wall.

But the big window was what really caught her eye. It was huge, like a giant TV screen showing the live bustle of the city below. She could see the tiny cars and people moving down there, all busy and rushing around, unaware of the girl who watched from above.

You went up to the window and pressed your hands against it. It felt cool and a little bit thrilling to see everything from up so high.

This room was a new start, a blank page. But even with the excitement, you couldn't shake off the jitters in your belly. You were scared of getting hurt again, scared of someone turning on you. Scared of turning into the thing you hated most. The killer that was planted within you. This place was safe, they said, but you’d heard that before.

Hugging yourself, you tried to imagine being part of all that life below. The room felt like a cozy nest, but you were like a bird that wasn't sure how to fly yet. One who had forgotten how to.

As the sun started to set, the sky turned all kinds of pretty colors, and lights began twinkling on in the buildings and streets. Maybe one day, you thought, one of those lights would feel like home to you.

For tonight, you were just a girl with a new room, looking out at the city and feeling a mix of hope and worry. Tomorrow you’d start figuring out how to fit into this new life. But right now, you were okay just watching and waiting, high above the quiet city that was slowly going to sleep.

An hour later, there was a soft knock on your door. You opened it to see Natasha, who remained on the other side of the threshold, a respectful distance away, holding a pizza box. The aroma of melted cheese hinted at the contents, “Here's your cheese pizza,”

You took the box, feeling the warmth from the bottom seep into your hands. “Thanks,” she replied, her stomach rumbling in response.

Natasha gave you a quick nod. “Enjoy,” she said, and then she was gone, leaving you alone with your pizza and the view of the city lights below.

[A/N] the song I listened to writing this 😂

#reader insert #female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #the avengers #avengers x reader #Spotify

[violettduchess]

Gilbert and apology cuz.... Idk I'm a sadist? I want him on his knees? I think he'd look pretty crying? I'm salty he didn't come home and I hold a grudge like nobody's business? Jokes aside feel free to decide who's apologizing to whom and for what here

Love, V ♡

A/N: This request fit so well into the Gilbert series I stumbled into writing that I decided to make it part four. It can totally be read on its own but if you are interested, the first three are here: Sturm und Drang (Part one) Thorns (Part two) I am not free (Part three)

I'm sorry @viohasgoneintothewoods but he doesn't cry (yet)

TW: mild choking

Word Count: 1836

The night is dark and you will yourself to blend into it, to become one of the shadows born of the moon’s thin, silver light. Your horse is tied to the hitching post at the small inn on the edge of town. It cannot carry you where you need to go: Through the woods with their black, grasping branches and sharp, yellow eyes that watch from hidden, leafy alcoves. Over gnarled roots and wet leaves with only the wan light of your lantern to guide you. And once you hear the sounds of the Obsidian camp, you have to extinguish even that. Setting the trusty lantern down in the damp grass, you carefully enter the camp. The tents and lean-tos are illuminated by a combination of torchlight and moonbeams, giving you plenty of shadows to slip through. You move through the darkness like a wraith, silent and grim. You made the choice to come here. You know the risks. 

But you need to see him. You need to explain yourself. 

You need to see him. You need…..

His tent is easy to find. It is the largest, the one with the gold trim that glints even in the faint light. Oddly enough, there are no guards standing watch at the entrance. Maybe they have been called away. Maybe he frightens even them. Your heartbeat roars in your ears with every step you take but you press onward, one glance over your cloaked shoulder before you part the heavy entrance flaps and step inside.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the even dimmer lighting inside, everything painted in gray shadow and black night. A slight frown pulls on your lips. The tent is empty….Disappointment replaces apprehension. All this way and he’s gone. Did he go ahead to the Obsidian border? Or is he out, meeting someone? Where–

Your thoughts are cut off by the hand at your throat. He emerges from the shadows, as if they have released him from their embrace, his hold on you breathtaking in its suddenness. His hands are bare, his touch a shock of cold against your skin. Not long ago you sought out that kiss of winter. Now it bites you, drawing a whimper from your lips. 

“What a very dangerous thing to do, Häschen,” he murmurs. His voice is calm, smooth as mirrored glass. He could be sitting across from you at tea instead of holding you at his mercy in his extravagant tent. “Sneaking your way into my camp after rejecting my proposal to come with me.”

What terrifies you most isn’t the hold he has on you, but the way you can’t read his face, the blank beauty of his expression, the flat red of his eye.

“What on earth would ever make the rabbit so bold as to wander into the predator’s lair?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” 

Your voice is thin as rice paper, fragile as wet silk. He holds you just enough that you can’t break free, but not so hard as to cause pain. That small favor gives you a spark of hope. “I couldn’t leave things the way they were.” You can practically see the memory of that night in the royal gardens and a sky flooded with stars in his expression. The way he asked you to join him, begging you as he held you in his arms, trailed frantic kisses over your skin. And the way your “No” cracked that unforeseen, ungoverned connection between you.

Now he takes a step forward, forcing you to step back, as he searches your face. “You made yourself clear as your lovely Rhodolite crystal. You chose here. And with it, you chose him.” Him. The looming figure of King Chevalier Michel. The only man Gilbert hates. The only one you believe he fears. 

“Please,” you whisper. “I don’t want to fight.” Whether you mean as nations or as lovers does not matter. It is true for both. “I don’t want a war between us.” Your words fall like shards of glass on stone, splintering even as they leave your lips. 

Quiet settles over the two of you like a heavy mantle. That red gaze, dark as blood in the weak light, holds you in place as much as his hand does. You’re frozen, a rabbit caught in the brightest of spotlights, all movement suspended as you wait to see what the predator will do.

The hand at your throat loosens, slides down and then around, pressing into the nape of your neck, holding you there. You remember when that hand held you there in the glow of desire. Now all you feel are the cold chains of command.

“You are too kind.” It doesn’t sound like a compliment. The words slide across your skin like fingers of ice, burning and leaving red in their wake. “Too empathetic.” His voice drops to a whisper as rough as the winter wind through naked branches. He lowers his head. Electricity crackles in your veins as you feel his breath against your ear. “Too soft for war.” He breathes in, inhaling your scent and your eyes fall closed, your body swaying slightly like a leaf clinging only by a few thin fibers to its branch. His lips brush against the line of your jaw and against all sense, your heart begins thrumming with the memory of wanting this man, this dark prince. “So…..very…..soft…..” His nose brushes against your cheek, his fingers tighten their grip on your neck and you know that for all his anger, he still wants you. The connection between you, however precarious, is still there.

“Gilbert….” Your eyes open, his face obscured by a veil of tears. The quiver in your voice pulls him out of his daze and he leans back once again, away from you and your scent, that unique mix of seductive rose and soothing lavender. The scent which has haunted him from the moment he met you. The one that lurks in the corner of every memory and wraps itself around him like the softest of silk in his dreams.

His head turns, his profile as beautiful as you remember it. The sharp lines of his cheek bones, the soft fall of hair across his forehead whose color echoes the night sky. The line of his jaw, the slope of his neck, the pale moon beauty of his skin. Unbidden, the tears fall from your eyes like liquid stars. “Gilbert….please….”

The sound of his name, tremulous and delicate, sends a visible shudder through him. He drops his hand from your neck and begins to turn fully away from you, but your heart lurches in your chest and your hand shoots out, grabbing his wrist. 

“I’m sorry.” Like silver iodide to clouds, your apology releases the rain, the torrent of words that spill from your quivering lips. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. I can’t explain what…this….feeling…between us is.” Your grip on his wrist tightens, but he doesn’t pull away. He shifts, his gaze finding you over the line of his shoulder. With tears still spilling like starlight down your cheeks, you keep talking, almost breathless with the weight of what you want to say, the need to make him understand. “I only know that the thought that I have hurt you causes every heartbeat to ache, every breath to sting. I…I need you to know that I would never do anything to cause you pain.”

Unbeknownst to you, your words pierce his armor, brand themselves into his heart where they will throb in every quiet moment he experiences from here on in. Your tears and your voice spawn an unbearable tightness that coils its way around his throat, holding it as surely as if you were mirroring his earlier action. Your fingers curled tightly around his wrist feel like shackles and he has the wild inclination to fall to his knees and beg not for release, but to be fettered to you eternally.

Slowly he turns to face you completely and his expression sends a wave of emotion crashing over you, nearly pulling you under. There is a latticework of anguish and anger and desire and one eye blazing like a crimson solar flare with the force of it all. You’re pinned in place, his wrist your only lifeline to the surface else you would drown. The pendulum of time is suspended mid-swing and neither of you moves, your breath held captive in your lungs. And then the frozen moment rushes forward to the present, the pendulum arcs swiftly back onto its trajectory and suddenly you are in Gilbert’s arms, crushed against him.

His kiss is not the hungry, greedy kisses he's given you in the past. This is something harder, something angry that leaves ashes on your tongue as he plunders the depths of your mouth. It hurts, both physically in the crush of his lips, the edges of those white teeth, and emotionally, in the squeeze of your heart caught in the jaws of undeniable fear and burning desire. Your fingers curl into his shirt, a gasp ripped from your throat when he breaks the kiss as suddenly as he started it.

You don’t need a hand over his heart to know it’s drumming as hard as yours is. His eye closed, he presses his forehead against yours even as his hands grasp your hips, holding you still once again, roots of iron twining around your legs. When he speaks, his voice is astonishingly calm.

“I will come for you when this is over,” he murmurs, his voice just above a low whisper. One hand cups your face, rough and cold. 

“What…..what happens then?” The question is barely audible. You’re trembling as if outside, exposed to rough winds that pull on your garments and drag incy fingernails across your exposed, vulnerable skin.

He nuzzles the side of your neck, his inhale tremulous. “The question of what I do when I find you….” His lips graze the shell of your ear, his fingers slide down the line of your neck to grip your shoulder. “...will haunt you until the time comes.”

Your blood turns cold in your veins. Color seeps from your face, leaving you blanched and breathless, as he steps away from you, something only possible because of his absolute control over himself. He’s slipped the mask of amused indifference back on and part of you wants nothing more than to launch yourself at him and tear it to pieces with the ferocity of your desire to see him, the real him. But another, more rational part takes the chance and slowly widens the distance between you.

"Hop away, Häschen." He glances at the flap of his tent and then turns back to you, his face bathed in shadow, his features opaque except for the flickering red flame of his eye. "You have five minutes before this camp knows you are here. And they won't be as kind to you as I have been.”

You turn. 

And run.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @joiedecombat

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri gilbert #gilbert von obsidian #gilbert x reader #tw: mild choking #ikemen fanfic #ikemen fanfiction #otome fanfic #broken heartstrings #violettwrites

[lostfirefly]

Life Must Have It's Mysteries (Ch.2)

Nobody asked me, but the thought of sending my beloved couple on a new journey didn't let me go. Welcome to a new adventure! No idea how many chapters there will be :) Pain continues leading me to art :)

English is not my native language, errors may occur. As always, feel free to share your thoughts :) Masterlist is here.

Description: Our heroes are on a quest to find the blue diamond! Hooray!

Warnings: Fun (Sanji's small appeareance is just for fun), fluff, NSFW part is included (sorry not sorry), MDNI

Words: 4000 (sorry-y-y-y again)

Buggy x OC from my “You’ve Got the Same Dream as Me” series.

Taglist: @gingernut1314 (thanks for the red-blue striped pants idea!), @operationroots, @hey-august, @rorywritesjunk

The title is taken from "Life Must Have It's Mysteries" by Hans Zimmer (OST Inferno).

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Chapter 1

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Smack. Smack. Smack.

"Geez, if I'd known you'd react like that, we'd have gone somewhere a long time ago." Buggy couldn't contain his laughter as he looked at Catherine, who was squeaking all over the living room, clenching her fists happily. 

"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!!" She collapsed onto the couch, throwing her legs over it and wrapped her arms around Buggy's neck. Smack. Smack. Smack. "I’m so happy! Love!” Smack. "Love!" Smack. "Love love love you!" Smack. Smack. Smack. "Where do we start?"

"We'll start when you calm down, Cathie-pie. Repeat after me, please" He took three deep breaths.

"Okay! Okay! I'm calm!" She made a concentrated face and took one breath. Then a second. Then blurred into a smile and started squealing again.

"Oh my goodness!" Buggy grabbed his head and fell on the back of the couch. 

"Sorry!! I promise! I’m calm! So.. you told you know the guy.. Who.. Who…" She froze and began to smile again.

Buggy looked at her intently and sighed heavily. "Okay, squeal!"

Catherine attacked him with hugs and squeals again. 

"Are you finished?" 

"Yes!" Smack. 

"You sure?"

"Yes!" Smack. Smack. 

"Ok! Our first step. I'm gonna go to a restaurant in the morning. I’ll talk to a man about this thing from your sheets. In theory, he can give us directions or if there's a map or something. We need to figure out where to start."

"Can I come with you? Ple-e-ease!" Smack. 

"Are you squealing done for the day?"

"Yes!" Smack. Smack. 

"You sure?"

"Yes!" Smack. Smack. Smack. 

"If you behave well, woman, I’ll take you with me." 

"You're the best!!" Smack. Smack. Smack. 

⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭

In the morning, Catherine made the biggest and most delicious breakfast. Poured him the biggest cup of coffee. Gave him the longest morning kiss. She miscalculated a little with that last point, as Buggy immediately wanted to forget about breakfast after that, but she fought back. Catherine sat back in her chair, watched him eat and tried to appear calm. He sighed and told her to get ready. 

They reached a small restaurant, the sign resembled a wave, the fronts were blue-green in color. 

"Water 7. Another weird name of another weird place." Catherine whispered under her breath and squeezed Buggy's hand. "Is there someone scary inside?" 

"Nah, there's a trio running this restaurant. They and one of their little buddies really piss me off sometimes. But I gotta hand it to them, this place has good scotch." 

They went into a fairly bright room. Everything inside looked like water. Drawings and paintings on the walls, chairs in the shape of waves. 

"Oh my god! Why is he in just his underwear?!" Catherine didn't expect to say it so loudly. She threw a glance at Buggy, who rolled his eyes. 

A large man in an unbuttoned shirt that resembled a Hawaiian shirt, wearing underpants and barefoot walked up to them. Instead of the usual human nose, he had a metal nose. 

"Buggy the Sneak!" Said the man in shorts. 

"Franky!" 

"What happened in your life that you came to get scotch at 8:00 in the morning?"

"Scotch later. I'm here to see you on business. Catherine, give me the papers." Catherine kept her gaze on the man in his underpants. She considered the color of his hair, his nose. 

Franky in turn considered her. "Who's that?" He pointed a finger at Catherine. 

"She's with me" Buggy took Catherine lightly behind him. 

"With you? You mean.. Dear Lord! I can't believe someone messed with you, also sleeping willingly, Honey, if you're being held hostage, tell me." 

"Hey!" Catherine shouted.

"Let's get back to our business. Have you heard anything about this?” Buggy pointed to the sheets.

"The blue diamond? Yeah, but I think it's just rumors or maybe not. No one knows exactly. What? Why are you asking?"

"Just curious." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Stop lying to me. You're one of the biggest losers in treasure hunting. And I don't believe that you are asking me about that diamond because you're "just curious."

"Hey, you! The man in the underwear! It's not your business at all. If you need money for the information, I’ll pay you." Catherine took three steps forward.

"Catherine, calm down!" Buggy put his hand on her shoulder and tried to pull her in behind him.

"No, we're here to get information. Instead, a grown man who can't spare the money to buy his own pants sits there and insults you." Catherine glanced at Franky. "How much do you want for coordinates, information, or whatever it is you have?"

"Let's go to my cabinet." Franky patted Buggy on the shoulder and gestured him into his office.

A chill ran down Catherine's back. She felt a little uneasy that because of her inability to keep quiet, Buggy might get hurt. She put her hand on his back and looked at him anxiously.

"It's all right. I'll be right back."

Franky and Buggy walked out. Catherine sat back in her chair and put her elbows on the table. "You should be silent sometimes, Catherine.." She muttered to herself.

"Oooooh! God, what a beautiful girl I have behind my counter!!!" Suddenly there was a loud squeak or squeal.

Catherine turned around and noticed a tall blond man in a suit running towards her. "Geez, who are you?"

"Pretty-swaaaan!!!! Where did you come from?"

The stranger grabbed Catherine's arm.

"Go to hell, who are you?!" She yanked her arm back.

"Sanji-san!!! And who are you, oh beautiful girl?"

"C-Catherine!"

"God, what a beautiful name, Cathie-swaaaaaan!!!"

"Don't call me Cathie! There's only one person in the world who can call me that!"

"I’m sorry, Cathie-swaaaan!!" 

"Fuck!!!" She rolled her eyes.

The strange blond man continued to circle around Catherine and tried to take her hand until he was stopped by a loud "Hey, step away from her!" She turned around and saw Franky and Buggy.

Catherine jumped up from her seat and quickly walked over to Buggy. "Save me, this blond guy is crazy!" 

"So, sorry, clown. That's all I know about the blue diamond." Franky uttered with a slight smile.

Catherine lookd upset.

"The blue diamond? I know something about it!" The blond man stopped spinning and sat down on the chair.

"Yeah! So, honey.. Tell me!" Catherine said and put her chin on her hand. 

⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭

"Forgive me, I have a habit of writing everything down. So, first.. we’re going to this city. And there we will find her?" She pointed to the notes in her notebook. "Do you feel similar vibes, my Buggy Bear?" She asked loudly from the bedroom, started rummaging through the closet. "I've almost got all the things I need!"

"Finally! The car is ready. You're late again, my cotton candy." 

"I’m not late! I needed to pack some women's things. Stop grumbling! I’m comi…" Catherine suddenly stopped talking and scanned him with her eyes. 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He imitated her gaze.

"I just…" She tried to find the words. “Sneakers, Jeans. T-shirt. The black denim jacket, and your hair is in a ponytail. You look too sexy, Buggy the Clown." She took several steps towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Are you going to hook another girl?" 

"God, no, of course not. I got enough of this little shit in my life." He pointed at her nose with one hand.

"My blue-haired asshole…"

"I’m listening."

"Stop grabbing my ass!"

They drove for a couple hours in the car. Catherine practically kept her eyes on Buggy, constantly repeating that he looked sexy and hot as hell in his outfit, with his tail and driving. He was embarrassed and turning as red as his nose.

They reached a town called Little Garden, got a motel room and at Catherine's insistence went looking for the bakery Franky had mentioned.

"Onward to Arabasta." Catherine read the name of the bakery. "Do you guys get normal names around here?"

As soon as they entered the room, they immediately saw the young woman of medium height with long wavy light blue hair.

"Wow, her hair color is similar to yours. Are you two related by any chance?" Catherine whispered into Buggy's ear.

"Do you seriously think all people with blue hair are my relatives?"

Catherine shrugged.

"How can I help you?" Asked the girl behind the cash register.

"Two coffees, five raspberry jam donuts, three blueberry muffins and we're also looking for Vivi." Catherine shifted her gaze from the display case to the girl.

"Then you're in luck. It's me." Replied a rather pleasant voice and began putting the order into a bag.

"Oh, great. We're looking for information on the blue diamond. All we have so far is information about a scepter divided into three parts, hidden somewhere in the pyramids. Can you give us any clues?"

"First of all, good morning!"

"God, here we go again!!!" Catherine rolled her eyes and dropped her forehead onto the counter near the cash register.

"Cathie-pie, you're starting conversations the wrong way again." Buggy stroked Catherine's back, took her hand and led her to a table. He went back behind the cash register counter and had a very long conversation with Vivi about something. Catherine watched them with her arms crossed and an unfamiliar feeling visited her.  She thought for a second that she was jealous.

Buggy and Vivi walked over to her and sat down at the table. Catherine instinctively pulled her chair toward him.

"Anyway, he and I have had a talk. I have a condition. I'm telling you what I know..."

"Great!!!" Catherine clenched her fists joyfully.

"But!" Vivi interrupted her. "You're going to play a game of liar’s dice with me. And every time I lose, I'll tell you part of what I know."

"Fuck!!!" Catherine grabbed her head and practically flopped off her chair under the table. "Ok! I’m in!"

Vivi silently got up from the table and walked out into the back room.

"Are you sure?" Buggy whispered.

"Do we have a choice? God, why doesn't anyone ever just want to tell everything they know. First, that damsel tricked me into some caves and I almost died there. Now that girl wants to play around so she can tell me something. Maybe she's just bored and doesn't have anyone to play with? Dear God, make friends and play with them!"

"Well thanks to that girl from our previous adventure you have me now." He laughed, put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her on the temple.

"Yep. And now you piss me off every day, fucking clown. I hate you!" She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. 

"Cathie-pie, that's the eighth time today. You're going for the world record!" 

Vivi returned with aspiring cups and five dice. She sat down at the table and silently slid everything toward Buggy and Catherine. They looked at each other, took one of their dice and rolled it. 

"Five." Vivi said.

"Three." Buggy said.

"Four.. Fuck!" Catherine's head fell back on the table. Buggy lifted her back up.

"I'll start." Vivi spoke.

They put dice in their cup and shook them up. They flipped the cup face-down on the table to keep the dice hidden and secretly roll their dice at the same time.

"Three 3s." Vivi replied. 

Catherine peek at her own dice. "Four 3s."

"Two 4s." Buggy said calmly.

They raised their cups.

"Three 3s.." Catherine whispered. "Fuck! Next round!".

Of the six rounds, Catherine and Buggy won only 2 of them 

They shook dice under the cups again. 

"Four 6s!" Catherine said loudly.

"Five 2s." Buggy said calmly again.

"Three 2s." Vivi replied.

They raised their cups.

"Four 6s!!! Yes!!! Tell! Tell us something more!!"

Vivi smiled. "Ok. The scepter will lead you to the diamond, but they are hidden in different pyramids."

"We know that!" Catherine furrowed her brow.

"Do you want information or do you want to argue?" Vivi questioned, shaking the dice in the cup. 

"You will need a cryptex to open the place where the diamond is stored." 

"Where to find it?"

"Next round!" Vivi rolled the dice in the cup and set it on the table.

"For fuck's sake!" Catherine dropped her head back on the table. Buggy picked her up again. "Okay. Eight fives! Buggy, you got what?"

"Five threes." Buggy said calmly. He could already hear the irritation in Catherine's voice. 

"Six twos." Vivi swirled the cup around the table. 

"Liar!" Catherine shouted and lifted everyone's glasses. "Oh my god! We won!!! Now tell me more!" 

Catherine listened intently to Vivi's story and took notes on everything. 

"Well, not as much information as I would have liked, but thanks anyway! And by the way... Where's our coffee?" 

Catherine jumped out of the bakery, squealing. "Yaaaay! Well! We have some new data, copies from the books. We'll have to see if there's anything in them about the cryptex. We also have donuts and muffins!" She ran in a circle around Buggy and couldn't hide her happiness. 

"I'm tired and excited! Tired and excited!" She threw herself around his neck. "Let's go out to eat! And have a drink! And get wine for our room at the motel!"

⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭

They got back to the room quite late.

"God, I'm tired and I wanna sleep!" Buggy practically collapsed on the bed.

"Thanks…" Catherine said quietly.

"What?"

"Thank you for supporting me in this endeavor."

"Come on, cotton candy! Two fools in pursuit of something that may not even exist!" He laughed and sat down on the bed.

"But fools are lucky…" She whispered under her breath. "Okay, I'm going to take a quick shower and get back to you. Drink your beer or whiskey or whatever you want." She tiptoed over to him and kissed his cheek. "I love you!"

Catherine came out of the shower wearing only Buggy's t-shirt and her underwear. 

"My pajamas need more time to dry completely." She walked over to the table near the TV and poured herself a glass of wine. She looked at Buggy, who was lying calmly on the bed in red and white striped underpants, leaning his back on the headboard and clicking the remote control through the channels. 

"What are you doing?" She asked quietly. Catherine took a sip of wine and took two small steps towards the bed. 

"Nothing, just looking for something interesting, but so far I've only found shitty shows. How’s the shower?" 

"Okay. I missed you there." She tilted her head and watched carefully as the dim light from the lamp on the night table fell on his face. 

He extended his hand and called her to him with his fingers. She took another sip of wine and put the glass on the table. 

Catherine took three steps forward, climbed onto the bed, sat on his lap so that his legs were between hers and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Hi!"

"Hi, my pretty girl."

She didn’t take her eyes off him for a long time, running her hands over his hair, shoulders and arms.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Should I be afraid?" He narrowed his eyes and asked in surprise. 

"Sh-h, clown!" She looked into his eyes for a moment, took the red-and-white rubber band out of his hair, then tilted her head and kissed him on the lips. Buggy instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist. Her kiss became deeper and more passionate, her breathing quickened.

She ran one hand over his chest and lowered it down to his boxers. She felt something hard between her legs. "Well, good evening, Captain Buggy!" She smiled slightly, took off her t-shirt and ran her lips along his neck.

"Fuck, cotton candy!" He placed one hand on her thigh, then moved it on her stomach and gently lowered his hand into her panties. She felt his fingers digging into the soft skin near her crotch. 

"Do it." She whispered in his ear.

"My little Cathie-pie always swears at me when I do that, and now you’re asking me to do that?" He replied sarcastically and kissed her neck.

"Shit, clown. Are you gonna chat or are you gonna do your job?" She replied and moaned slightly when she felt his fingers found his way to her clit, rubbing it vigorously. 

"Fuck…" She arched her back and head backwards, her breasts in his face. He flicked a nipple with his tongue and she sighed in pleasure. She felt him slowly move inside her, her walls sending waves of pleasure against him. She whimpered in response, her body once again arching, not knowing what to do with the arousal. He was holding her back with his free arm, amused at how quick she was to react. 

"You ok, my little pie?"

"Stop asking stupid questions, fucking clown. Just d-d-don't.. fuck.. stop, ok?" 

"That’s my girl." He smiled widely. He adored the expressions she made. And he made sure to push his digits in and out in a rhythm that resembled that of her moanings. Catherine's moans intensified when he gradually moved his fingers to get faster, more forceful. Catherine lost her breath when she felt his fingers on her special spot. "Oh god. Fuck! That's it.."

"You like that?"

"You will be the death of me, Buggy-sama!" She whispered in his lips.

"Ugh! Don't call me that, baby." 

"Fuck you. I will.. fuck..ca-all you.. yeah.. as I wa-ant..fuck." She kissed him eagerly and couldn't stop moaning through the kiss. She clutched her fingers into his back, realizing that she was almost reaching orgasm. "Fuck, shit!" She buried her head in the crock of his neck and kept silent for a moment. He felt her heavy breath on his skin.

Buggy pulled out his hand and wiped it on the towel. "Is my pie happy now?" He stroked her hair.

"Your pie is really happy. But wait, my Captain. I have news for you. We're not done yet." She kissed him on his lips, stood up and took off her and his underwear. 

She knelt on the bed and gently ran her hand over his cock. "Tell me… Buggy the Genius Jester, do you have any orders? Wishes?" She whispered, continuing running her fingers along the entire length. 

"You're playing with fire, cotton candy.” He tried to take her hand. 

"Na-ah!" She threw his hand back on the bed. "You can watch but touch.. No!" She barely pressed her lips to the head of his cock.

"Cathie-pie…?" He looked at her with a surprised look.

"I’m listening, my silly clown. Don't you like it? Don't you want it?"

"I…I just didn't…expect…" He mumbled. 

"Okay, if you don't like it.." She shrugged her shoulders and reached out for her t-shirt.

"No, no, no!! Wait! Wait! I liked it! I loved it!!"

Catherine leaned over him. "Are you gonna be a good boy?"

He silently nodded. 

"You will be silent, won't you?"

He nodded. 

"Wanna see what else I can do?" She whispered.

He nodded again. 

She kissed him on his lips, winked at him and slowly moved down, flicking her tongue over his nipples, down his belly. She wrapped his length with her fingers and touched it with her lips. She could practically feel him arch up as she slowly closed her mouth over the head of his cock, curious, wondering if he'd beg..

He tried. He really tried. He tried so hard to remain silent for the next few minutes, but he didn't do it well. She felt his hands gripping the sheets. She could hear his weak voice, accompanied by "oh, holy shit", "fuck, baby, yes", "more, please, be-e-ging you", "that's it", "i love you, my co-t- fuck c-c-a-n.. fuck". 

After she finished, Catherine raised her head and looked at him. 

"Are you still alive, my silly clown?" She stood up and sat on top of him. Buggy's gaze was clouded. 

"Wow, I’m impressed by your reaction." She laughed and kissed his neck.

"What was that? What just happened?" He asked in a slightly high voice and shook his head to regain his senses. 

She grinned and whispered in his ear, her voice a low purr.

"My little revenge on you, blue-haired brat." 

"Fuck! You're a bad bad girl, Catherine Mitchell!!"

She couldn't help but laugh. "It's all your fault, Buggy-sama." She put her hands on his shoulders and started tracing her finger over his bicep.

"I told you not to call me that. It's ve-e-ry dangerous!" He croaked in a whisper and put his hands on her shoulder blades.

"I don't give a shit, you know that perfectly." She tilted her head and ran her lips over his lips. “I have one piece of news for you. Right now I want you inside me.”

"Damn! I can't hold you back from this but don't you dare make any claims against me again." He put his hands on her waist.

"Fuck you. You bet I will." 

"Stop talking and c’mere, my little shit!" 

She kissed him again, rose a little and slowly sat on his cock, letting out a moan. 

"Fuck, you're so good!" He whispered and smashed his lips into her.

"Yes, I’m.." She smiled during the kiss and started slowly moving her hips from back and forth. Every movement made his pulse pick up, pleasure shooting through his body. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. He started growling and kissing any part of her he could reach. She felt him squeeze her ass and grind herself against his hips.

With every kiss from him, Catherine quickened her pace. "I want to feel you deeper." She whispered, digging her nails into his back. 

She let her knees slide apart a little further, taking him just a little further and felt how his cock filled her completely. Inside, it felt enormous, thick and tight. She started rocking her hips again, slow at first, then alternating with up and down strokes. He kissed her hungrily, sliding his tongue against hers, moaning into her mouth when her movements picked up speed. 

"You feel so right, my Cathie-pie. I just can't get enough of you." He said between kisses. 

"It’s my superpower." She said quietly, pulling at his lower lip with her teeth. 

Catherine was grinding her body against his, her hips snapping back and forth. She took his hand and squeezed it. "I’m so– close, fuck. I want us to come together."

She picked up her pace even more, breaking the kiss just to moan his name loudly, squeezing his hand more and more tightly. The ecstasy was peaking unbearably, building every time he or she moved.

"Fuck, baby, I’m close. I’m gonna c…"

He kissed her shoulder, her hips moving in short frantic thrusts against his cock. Right before he lost his mind completely Buggy looked at Catherine to see her beautiful face intent on him, and that was the last thing he could think of as he came.

Catherine pressed her whole body against him, feeling every rapid beat of his heart. She didn't let go of his hand and ran her free hand through his wet hair.

"You ok? You're breathing so hard." She asked quietly and pressed her forehead to his.

"I’m totally fine. You?"

"S'okay." She kissed him on his lips. "You’re my other half and I love you so so much my Buggy Bear. Remember that, okay?"

He gazed intently into her eyes. "You’re not just my other half, cotton candy. You're my better half."

"Wow!! My beloved blue-haired asshole said that to me! I need to be on top of you more often so that I can hear such phrases more often." She laughed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. 

"Little shit!" He stroked her forearms, then wrapped his arms around her waist and put his head under her chin. "I love you. And I promise, I’ll never hurt you."

"I know."

#one piece #buggy the clown #buggy x oc #oc fanfiction #oc character #buggy the clown x oc #buggy live action #one piece live action #buggy one piece #opla buggy the clown #buggy fanfiction #buggy fic #buggy x catherine #opla buggy the clown x reader #buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #buggy x female reader #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy x reader #one piece au

[lilac-gold]

Imaging the Headspace gang with Tumblr adjshkfs

Sweetheart uses it like a social media platform, posting pictures of herself excessively. The sprout moles make so many drawings of her and they all suck but she reblogs them anyway. They keep making x reader fanfictions about her and she doesn't know whether to be more pleased or disgusted by it

Rococo makes it his mission to master digital art and,, fails. Miserably. He's so good with a paintbrush but he's terrible on apps. He keeps trying to promote his paintings and get people to commission him but the lighting is so bad in the walls that all his pictures just look like faint colour blobs. He tags everything with 'wallcore' and nobody knows what it means.

Spaceboy creates a little blog about space, putting on a new fact every day. He sometimes has breakdowns and vents about SWH in a jumbled mess of word vomit, they're easy to find among his fun facts. He's surprisingly good at drawing digitally, and Rococo is determined to find out his secret. You can always tell when he's angry bc Space Ex-Bf changes his picture to an angry green man and his grammar & politeness get significantly worse

The unbread twins don't understand what it's meant to be for so they just post blurry pictures of bread from terrible angles. They're terrible with a camera but at least Doughie spells everything right in their random guides to making bread. (Biscuit sometimes adds in helpful little 'Oho's at random points <3)

Berly is the only one in Headspace who has figures out how to use this thing and she has more followers than anyone else combined. She's in the most niche fandoms ever, writes masses about her favourite characters, and makes a lot of memes

Mr Jawsum pays for adverts. Everywhere you look, the Last Resort follows you. There is no escape :). He keeps using Hero as a poster boy for the company and Hero is very embarrassed about it

Kite Kid likes to be as ominous as possible. He finds everyone's accounts and starts warning them about the darkness that's coming for them and refuses to elaborate even a little bit

The main 6 are usually too busy adventuring to check it out, but Kel is just pure chaos, Aubrey is the biggest shipper known to man, Hero mostly lurks in the background offering support to his friends, Mari makes a motivational blog full of inspirational quotes and good advice, Basil is too nervous to make an account and Omori's page is just months-apart terrifying little posts

Would this logistically ever work? No, no it would not. Is it a really fun idea anyway? Yes, yes it is

#omori #omori headspace #omori sweetheart #omori rococo #omori captain spaceboy #omori doughie #omori biscuit #omori unbread twins #omori hero #omori kel #omori aubrey #omori omori #omori basil #omori berly #mr jawsum #kite kid #sprout moles #this would be chaos and make 0 sense #and that's what makes it interesting #nonsense thoughts #nobody knows what a tumblr is #but they're trying :)

[gazs-blue-hat]

Books and Bombshells (Small Town UA) Gaz x Reader (Keys)

An: Part of my small town UA. This time we are meeting Keys! Once again, big shout out to @ghouljams for the inspiration and @plumteaa-remus for listening to my brainrot.

Warnings: none I can think of (LMK if I missed any)

Word Count: 2,132

Summary: Gaz decides to explore more of the little town he finds himself staying in. He also runs into this cute lady at the library.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO ANYBODY HERE OR ON ANOTHER SITE TO REPOST, COPY, TRANSLATE OR FEED MY WORK TO AN A.I OF ANY KIND.

The team had been staying on the farm for about three weeks now and Gaz was starting to get a little bit of cabin fever. Lamb had mentioned that there wasn't much to do in town. There was a small bowling alley as well as a movie theater. (Though the theater was just a large bedsheet pinned up against the back side of some guy's barn that he charged people 2 dollars to put a movie on.)

Lamb did mention there was a library in town that had a decent selection of books that might interest him. That's how Gaz found himself walking in the center of this small town.

The town itself was incredibly small with most businesses huddled in the middle with residences spiraling out from the center. A large lake bordered one side of the town that spread to the neighboring states. The roads were well kept and the people he passed were friendly. More than once someone stopped and tried to start a conversation with him.

"Hey there stranger! Welcome to Heighton!" A kind lady pushing a stroller called to him. He simply waved and smiled. "Oh! haven't seen you around here. Are you new?" An older gentleman said while sweeping the sidewalk by his storefront. Gaz simply said he was 'just visiting'. "Nobody just visits Heighton. You'll be moving in here sooner or later." The old man said with a smile. Gaz just nodded and continued walking.

Now, the Library wasn't a large government building like he was used to back home. This library looked like a house that had been repurposed. There were small flowers that were painted on the stone ramp leading up to the front door. The pillars of the porch had been painted to look like classic books.

Above the entry way were delicate wooden letters that spelled out 'Heighton Library'. Gaz smiled at the cute decorations and opened the door for a young woman who was wheeling herself out of the library. "Oop! Sorry sir! I didn't see you!" She said with a cheery smile. Gaz smiled as she wheeled herself past him and then down the street. The people here were so kind! It was very different than other places he had been to. These people seemed to genuinely care for one another. It was a welcome change. A cool breeze welcomed him as he walked into the library, carrying the soft sounds of white noise, a clacking keyboard and the scent of freshly brewed coffee. "Welcome in! If you need any help finding anything, please let me know!" A kind voice called from within the house. Books spread in all directions around him. Most of them were organized alphabetically and by genre, but some had clearly been accidentally put back in the wrong place by perusers.

Absentmindedly, Gaz picked up the books and found their proper places. The selection here was honestly pretty good. The library sported a decent amount of fiction and nonfiction books. One of the rooms had been dedicated to a children's section and the floor was littered with various educational toys. Drawings decorated the wall of that room done by children of their favorite books.

As he rounded the corner, he could see that the path to upstairs had been roped off with a sign saying 'Private residence past this point'. He couldn't up but stick his head over the rope to get a look at some pictures that were hanging on the wall. One of them had a picture of a woman hugging a man, holding a diploma of some kind. Another picture showed the same woman wearing Navy dress Blues while hugging a person that looked a lot like the vet that had been to the farm a few days ago.

Before he could see anything else, the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him made him jump. "Can I help you find anything?"

---------

The day began normally for you. You rolled out of bed, took your morning shower (while singing along to a new song your favorite artist had recently released) and brewed your morning coffee. You never really had many people coming into the library for books really. You mostly had them coming in to borrow equipment. You had a wide selection of tools and manuals that people would checkout like books.

The only interaction you had all morning was a young woman stopping by to return a sewing pattern. She was even wearing the dress she had made with it. "Oh Maryanne! It looks so lovely! It suits you just right." you praised. She blushed and handed the little packet back to you. "Thank you miss Keys. It took a while for me to get the fabric and all. Miss Lamb recently brought me some more of her fabric. I know she doesn't make much fabric but she makes some that doesn't irritate my skin as much." She explained. You nodded as you replaced the packet in the folder that held the patterns.

"You did a stunning job Maryanne. You should honestly show those off to someone. I'm sure if you opened an Etsy shop, people would be eager to buy things from you." You praised. Maryanne blushed deeply and shook her head.

"I think I'll just keep making clothes for myself for now. I want to get really good before I start advertising myself." She said softly. You nodded in understanding. Putting yourself out there was a huge deal and while Maryanne was a wonderful person, she didn't take criticism very well. It is very possible that she would receive just ONE slightly bad review and she would give up her craft forever.

"I understand Maryanne. Would you like another pattern while you're here? Or perhaps some crocheting hooks?" You asked. Maryanne picked out a specific pair of pants from the pattern catalogue. "I wanted to make miss Lamb some pants. I always hear her complaining that none of the pants she can buy fit her properly, her leg being gone and all." You smile and nod.

"I'm sure Lamb would really appreciate that! Heaven knows I have hemmed and altered enough of her pants. I wish you luck!" You say as you write in the ledger what she checked out. She smiles and waves as she wheels herself off. You hear her make a slight squeak and start talking to someone.

You smile and go back to the document you were reading before she came in. Lamb was looking at some specific information about one of the operations they had done in the Middle East about a year ago. They were helping stop a terrorist cell from releasing a deadly gas on a civilian population. There had been a friend of Lamb's working on the op as well. A man named 'Alex Keller'.

It had originally been said that he died in the op but by pulling a few strings and looking into some seal documents, you were able to gather that he was alive and also had a prosthetic like Lamb did. Now you were on the hunt for some way to contact him so Lamb could reconnect with her friend.

As you were typing you heard the door chime ring out. "Welcome in! If you need any help finding anything, please let me know!" You called into the air. You wondered who Maryanne had been talking to and you sighed, closing out the document you had been looking at. You stood up, cracking you back a bit and walked towards the front of the library where you saw a rather handsome man looking up the stairs at your pictures on the wall. You felt like you knew this man somehow but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. Lamb had mentioned a few days ago that the 141 was staying at her farm until things cooled down, but for the life of you, you couldn't remember which member this was!

"Can I help you find anything?" You asked, turning your head to the side like a curious owl. The man cleared his throat and shook his head. "No ma'am. Just admiring your collection of books. I honestly expected something smaller." he said kindly. You fought to keep yourself from blushing at the praise.

"Ah well, I try to keep a little bit of everything on hand just incase someone wants it. Did you find anything that caught your eye?" You asked kindly. You didn't know why but you felt very comfortable talking to this man. Usually you hesitated to speak out to anybody but the cute man before you seemed so easy to talk to. His smile was kind and genuine. he stood with an easy posture that made her feel like an equal rather than someone he was looking down on. You analyzed his attire and you couldn't help but blush a bit more. He wore a simple ballcap with the Union Jack on it with a T-shirt and jeans you recognized as belonging to Lamb. This for sure was a member of the 141, but which member still eluded you.

"I noticed you had a few books in the (fave Book series) series. I was wondering if you happened to have the third book. I haven't managed to read that one yet." He said kindly.

It took all of your energy not to squeak and clap your hands in excitement. People are here didn't really focus on books like that and you had been stuck info dumping about the series to Skip who had kindly told you to 'Make a blog and yell about it on the internet.' Which you had done.

"Oh my God. I love that series. I actually have the third book upstairs, let me go grab it really fast." You spat out. Your words came flooding out of your mouth like raging river, it was honestly impressive that he was able to catch any of it. You scrambled up the stairs and grabbed said book. "Okay okay okay, SO!" You started explaining what you loved about the series and what you had marked in your book. The books in your personal collection were all annotated with little notes scribbled in the margins and on little sticky notes you had glued onto the pages.

The stranger listened intently to every word, adding his own opinions here and there every so often. he matched your energy too, excited to talk about this series that he loved. Nobody else on 141 had read it (Price had tried to read it, bless him).

Before either of you knew it, the sun had set and the moon was high in the sky.

"Oh shit. Lamb is gonna kill me if I don't wake up in time tomorrow." He said while setting down his cup of tea. Both of you had eaten dinner and were having a cup of tea as you continued to discuss the book. You nodded and set your cup down as well. "She's got you roped into helping her with the farm work right? Classic Lamb.." You said with a fond smile. You escorted him out of the library, still talking about the series. You flipped over the open sign to read 'closed' and you turned off your porch light. "I never even asked, what's your name again?" He said with a chuckle. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep you from blushing again. His laugh was so magical and it sent butterflies fluttering through you. "I'm (Y/N) (L/N). But you can call me 'keys', ev-

"Everybody around here does." He finished for you. He smiled and extended his hand out for a shake. "I'm Kyle Garrick, but you can call me-" it was your turn to interrupt him.

"Gaz! Gosh that was bugging me. I couldn't remember which member of 141 you were!" You said with a smile as you clasped hands with him. His hand was so warm and so big. It felt like your hands were meant to fit together.

"Lamb been talking eh?" He smiled. You shrugged.

"Only to us. Tens said you met her already. The last person you guys need to meet is Skip then." You replied. Your hands were still clasped. he hesitantly pulled his hand away from you and looked at the library again. "Have a safe walk back to the farm! Give Nikon a pet for me!" You called as he turned his back to walk to the farm.

It wasn't half way into his journey that he realized he had forgotten the book. No matter, it was an excused to come see you again. "Keys....interesting name." He mumbled as he looked at his hand that you had touched, the skin still tingling from the contact.

-------

Tag list: @plumteaa-remus

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #small town ua #keys #to be linked

[asassydork]

Chapter 1: The Night’s Embrace

Story: Shadows of the Forgotten

Word Count: 7.9k

Song: I Won’t Lie by Go Radio/11 Minutes by Halsey & Yungblud

Summary: In a rundown motel room, we meet Thessarae and Halloran, a recently transient couple moving motel to motel across the country looking for a sense of home that they both lost. The main reason for this journey stems from a lack of a home to go back to and the idea that they can take their relationship to the next level: becoming parents, which for this couple is a lot more complicated than it looks.

TW: NSFW, 18+, Smut, MDNI, new species of monster smut, (not edited yet and yes I did rewrite it a lot)

4 AM. Somewhere north of Seattle. Sunny Side Pines. Motel and Hideaway.

The night has been cast in an atmosphere of gloom from the heaviness of the rain that rolled in just after dinner time. The town already covered in days’ worth of rain and partial flooding now held a symphony of bigger, louder droplets. It’s the kind of rain that soaks through the bone, a reminder of where you are in the world. Just outside of Seattle.

Sunny Side Pines was a rather unusual place. It wasn’t the kind of place that drew just anybody to it. That was part of its hidden charm, the idea that it was exclusive. Perhaps, in its own ways, it was exclusive. But none of us are here to tell anyone how to run their private business. Sunny Side prides itself on its appeal. Cheap rooms for cheap stays with little amenities and a seclusion that was almost private despite the highway. It was a multi building facility, each one carrying a color and a theme. Red, Green, Blue and Purple. There’s a reason for these colors and their odd themes. These were just any transients wandering through this part of town. Most were at least part time residents who’ve called this place home for however long. It’s a part of a hidden network all around the country of businesses that cater to certain characters. Although, that always seems to draw trouble to the rooms only a few doors down. You grow used to it the more you see it. After all, as long as nobody’s getting hurt, we’re all just looking for the same thing.

Each building is painted with their color palette. The purple complex was different hues of lavender, yellow and deep purple. The theme for this building was the moon, so every door seemed to have a phase of the moon painted around the peep hole on top of the deep purple they’d gone for. It was outdated and neglected so a lot of the paint was chipped or missing, adding an eeriness to the phases of the moon. Every room comes with a sliding window and a cheap plastic table and chairs out front of it. It was very uniform in an unmistakable aesthetic. The exterior walls were lavender with certain features like the stairs painted in stark shades of yellow to make them stand out. It was a very forward facing business, half of the purple building facing the highway and viewing the neglected airport fields beyond. The sounds of jets and helicopters sounded at all hours. It mingled with the sounds of the highway, especially during rush hour and it was nearly deafening. You can’t expect anyone to be able to hear themselves think for those few short hours.

The curbs were also once painted to match the facade but they’re long chipped from use and neglect, most areas bare where people walk the most. Each room also has an air conditioner cut into the wall. Adding to the cheap uniformity. It’s here where the doors are painted deep purple with their moon phases as a stark contrast that we’ve been surviving the last few days. The exterior of the building is far more neglected than the inside but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t less than $100 a night for a reason.

The walls are thicker than traditionally expected. The mattresses are remotely newer than everything else in the room but it’s very much still trapped in the past. The floors are clearly concrete covered in thin cheap geometric carpeting that offers no comfort against the concrete. The color appears to be a dark green but some of that could just be from how dirty and old it must be. Stains litter the floor to further prove it hasn’t been deep cleaned since it was installed. The dressers combine with a desk and the odd layout is meant to represent an entertainment center but by the looks of it, they never ungraded from tube TVs so when they had to remove them, they didn’t upgrade the rooms. There were squared marks on the surface from where the TV sat for half a lifetime. The room is pretty empty. The only other furniture is the bed and a small lopsided table that wobbles when you touch it and mismatched chairs likely taken from other arrangements over the years. There are two lamps mounted on the walls next to the bed reminiscent of the 1980s like most other things in the dilapidated motel. Only one of them works and it’s the one nearest the bathroom. They added a cheap standing lamp in the corner behind the table to add some light to the room but it’s also lopsided and broken looking.

The bed is a traditional queen that underwent deep inspections before we agreed to stay. The frame is nothing more than wood under the carpet. A cheapskate’s way out of having to clean the room properly. It’s more modern but that was out of necessity than nicety. There’s no luxury here. We’re just glad that the mattress is covered in a protective wrap to keep it from becoming stained. The sheets are freshly cleaned and passed the tests we conducted to prove that. But the thin worn fabric of the bedspread they gave us was just another reminder that we weren’t anywhere near home yet. There was nothing to keep you warm, so we’ve adopted our own traditions about life on the road which involves our own good pillows and a bedspread that’s actually comfortable and warm.

There’s a radiator under the small window behind the table that rattles loudly when you turn it on. It also fills the room with dust and adds to the smell of smoke like something fell in there and burns every time it’s on. Added with the overall mildew and old smoke smells that contribute to the yellowing green wallpaper, we’ve had to leave the window cracked open with our own bar behind it to keep anybody from reaching inside. Safety in places like this is hard to come by so we’ve adopted a creative approach to a lot of the issues.

The bathroom is a hideous combination of sea blue tiles and mint green bath fixtures. It’s an eyesore to say the least. The sink has a constant drip, the toilet is extremely loud when it flushes, and the bathtub is surprisingly the cleanest surface in the whole room. They really put the extra effort into that amenity, even though there’s no shower curtain and water sprays everywhere when you get a shower. There’s also no rugs on the floor so we’re left standing on towels and dirty clothes to keep from accidentally killing ourselves on the slick surface. It’s the strangest setup I’ve ever seen but we agreed not to complain very much and just adapt to the circumstances while we’re here. It’s not like it’s permanent.

Our personal touch comes in the form of the bags atop the odd entertainment center, the jackets hanging on the backs of the chairs, the charcoal bedspread with its plush king-size comforter that drapes excess over the edges of the queen mattress, the tiny vase of fresh wildflowers on the table, the sticky notes on the bathroom mirror, the plushies sitting throughout the room, and the sheet over the window to act as a curtain over the blinds that don’t work properly. It’s an attempt to keep more of the light out.

The soft pitter patter of the rain spraying against the dirty window should’ve lulled me back to sleep hours ago. The kaleidoscope effect of the intermixed lights danced across the ceiling and the dark wall that housed the bathroom, offering a small show as cars zipped by down the highway and the vacancy sign continued to flash. Hours ticked by relentlessly as I laid in bed, awaiting Hal’s return. The meeting didn’t start until some time after midnight but it was already past 4 AM. I couldn’t help the weight of my thoughts as I went over every reason they’d find to keep us from remaining in this territory for very long. His determination to find us a civil place to live was pushing the limits of what normal people would like to provide. It’s not like we came with valuable references to ensure there won’t be future conflicts. Those kinds of things are hard to come by if they exist at all.

Hal’s a man of sophistication, despite our reasoning for living by unconventional means. Meaning, there’s a rhythm to his gait that comes from his expensive steel toed boots that I would most certainly hear from anywhere. It tickled my ear as he randomly sounded his approach, knowing I’d be listening for him. He otherwise has a silent footing about him, a languid predator. So, I didn’t catch the sound of his boots until he was already more than halfway across the parking lot, likely realizing I was awaiting his return hours ago. The rhythm of his gait across the asphalt was a small comfort. He’d really only done it so I wouldn’t be totally surprised when he opened the door. I am easily jump scared by things that really shouldn’t bother someone of my standing. But it gets me anyway.

I wondered if the long meeting was supposed to mean something or if the assholes kept him waiting the whole time. They like pressing his buttons and expecting him to remain calm. It’s sort of the reason he goes alone because he’s more collected than I am. It’s a skill of his, looking casual under pressure. He pulls it off better when I’m not there to either distract him or get in the way. I feel like I do both simultaneously all the time and I don’t even mean to.

His shadow blocks the play of lights when he’s close to the door, likely expecting me to be asleep with the way he slowly put the key in the lock and unlatched it hesitantly. He then carefully opened the door not to let too much light pour in. It was right after he closed the door behind him that he fixed the sheet over the blinds to block more of the lights on the ceiling, which just made the room darker. He was soaking wet, you could hear the sound of the water rushing off of his duck canvas jacket that he set on the back of the chair by the door. The coat created its own pitter patter of droplets that rolled onto the flat surface of the seat in an uneven rhythm. He slowly unlaced his boots and pulled them off, very meticulously about keeping them in good shape. After all, what’s a man without his affinity for expensive footwear? These boots in particular are a good friend in rain like this because they’re waterproof. He’ll likely treat them later when they’re dry to get any scuff marks off from the amount of walking he just did in them. I never really understood his need to care for his shoes so much but I stayed out of it.

He didn’t want to dredge mud and water through the small space, so he shucked his wet socks and pants over there while he was at it. It didn’t surprise me in the slightest when he decided to get a quick shower to both warm up and clean off the rain. He’s never liked the sensation of sky water on his skin. Boys can be weird sometimes.

He shook his hair out like a dog halfway to the bathroom and I tried not to snicker under my breath knowing he’d hear me and stop what he was doing. I didn’t want to get in the middle of it because he’d just get me all wet and drag me into the shower with him. So, I waited until he was in the shower to fluff his pillow and fold back the blankets on his side so it would be easier for him to slide in next to me.

I ran my legs on his side of the bed to see if the friction would give it some warmth because the bed was rather cold in its neglect. Thankfully, though, his shower wasn’t more than a few short minutes because he was exhausted. By the way he walked out of the shower with a towel around his waist and then over his head to dry his wild hair, I realized the meeting didn’t go well, like most of them haven’t. It was an impossible favor to ask people who clearly don’t get what we’re asking or why we’re asking it. But it’s been his objective without me, so I can’t do much more than listen to his interpretation of what their problems are. Most of them, it comes off as a disloyal untrustworthy bunch of nobody’s who couldn’t protect themselves, let alone new neighbors. He has too much faith in people and I keep trying to explain to him that it doesn’t work that way. But I let him be optimistic because it’s far from what I am. I don’t like being the one crushing his thunder and sunlight. I want good things to happen but I’m just used to this being the turnout.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks in a whisper as he leans over the bed to kiss my forehead.

“You know I don’t like sleeping without you,” I whisper back as he moves towards the door to check the locks. He’s very big on double checking our safety measures, which means he always checked the window before letting himself climb into bed with me. He tossed the towel in the pile across the room.

“You were tired when I left,” he whispers, climbing into bed lazily, moving towards me knowingly.

“Tired and sleeping are different things,” I chuckled, kissing his nose lightly. “I thought you’d be back by now, anyway.” I brush my fingers through his long dark, warm but wet hair and lightly scratch the soft spot behind his right ear.

He playfully nips at my palm and then my fingers for the gesture. “I did too.” He sighs noticeably and kind of obnoxiously for dramatic effect, “Just beating around another bush.”

“Huh,” I say, curious then for the state of his fingers because his choice of words was a little funny.

I could smell the blood on his fingers and realized that was part of the reason for his shower. He had to get the scent of his fight off his skin so I wouldn’t find it offensive and ask a thousand questions.

I kissed his bloodied knuckles and felt the softness of bruises there. Nothing was broken on either hand but he used them both equally. I wasn’t surprised a fist fight broke out. These people are the bad kinds of people they warn you about in school to stay away from. They’re all the same no matter where in the country you run into them. We were just lucky they cling together and aren’t usually out here on the streets causing trouble. It doesn’t mean I trust the process.

“You know, I prefer these in pristine shape,” I complain, holding both of his hands by the fronts of his fingers. I brush my cheek against both sets of knuckles.

“Stop being weird,” he complains, pulling his hands from my hold. “I was defending myself this time. I have a right to that.” He was lying but I didn't get into it. Tonight wasn’t the night. If he wanted to tell me some crazy story, I just let him. He’d eventually give me the whole truth because that’s how this works.

“Just be careful,” I whisper, kissing him on the lips lightly, lingering for a sip of him. “I need you in one piece.”

“I know,” he whispers back, brushing his nose along my cheek before nuzzling his head against my neck.

It was in the dim glow of the fluorescent lights that I noticed something else, a bruise on his back. It wasn’t a casual ‘I got punched’ bruise. It was a reminder of battle. It made me act like I was about to fornicate with him to pin him down with my hips and turn on the dimly lit lamp over his side of the bed. I growled softly in frustration as I realized he had a similar mark on his front as if to show exactly where he was slammed into. I carefully stood up over him, revealing all of him by pushing back the blankets.

“Really?” I didn’t mean to sound so angry but I was definitely frustrated. “You’re surprisingly in one piece…” I clicked my tongue against my cheek and nodded my head at myself before hopping down off the bed because I needed a minute to think. I almost thought about putting a hole in the wall just to make him pay for it. But that was such a waste of money that we didn’t have time to throw around right now

“Calm down,” he complains, sitting up but not moving towards me. “I’m surprisingly in one piece,” he echoes as if that was supposed to be a good thing.

“How many?” I ask, crossing to him, knowing I won’t be able to calm down without the numbers.

“In the fight? Only four,” he says, knowing that’s not the number I was looking for. He sighs dramatically, complaint in the sound. “Thirty-something. Not a lot.”

“Thirty-something is not a lot to you?” I shake my head, wanting to smack him across the face but don’t. “Did you really have to do it here? Right here? This place?” I touch the thin wall for emphasis, still thinking about punching it. “What about the plan? Huh? What about the mountains?” I grabbed him by the hair threateningly without hurting him. “What about my say in this?”

He just grabs my belly protectively like changing the subject was easier than bringing me down from this frustration I felt. “We can still go to the mountains. We still have a plan.” He nipped at my jaw apologetically but I was still really mad at him. “You wouldn’t be so upset if the timing wasn’t nearly perfect,” he chuckles, brushing his nose against my throat to sniff me audibly.

“Stop trying to distract me,” I complained, “You promised me we’d do this one at a time. Our way. You swore you wouldn’t get in over your head.” I pushed his head to the side almost playfully but still mad.

“Plans change,” he complains, nipping at my neck, “We adapt. You’re the one always talking about doing things differently for a better result.” He pulls me to sit on his lap which just made me wanna smack him.

“Yeah, adapting to the plan is taking two or three at a time. Not thirty something. You know I like my peace and quiet.” I leaned my forehead against his as I settled.

“There’s no peace and quiet here, T,” he chuckles, brushing his nose against my cheek, “But that’s going to change soon enough.”

“Ha-ha,” I mock, “As if I’m going to move into a dead man’s house.”

“As if I don’t have class,” he grumbles, “I’m not stupid. I know better than to move you into another man’s house. I also know better than to trust a new build.” He kisses my throat lightly.

“Why’d you take so long to come back?” I ask, deciding we were having a serious conversation right now. I grabbed him by the face with clawed fingers because he was trying to distract me. “I’m serious, Hal. What took so long?”

He makes a face at me before reaching over to turn the dim light out. “It was supposed to be an unfair fight. So, they got what was coming for them. I didn’t think it would end the way it did.” He nuzzles my neck again, still waiting for forgiveness and for me to calm down. “It was an ambush. There was never a meeting.” He sounded almost sad but the fight wasn’t entirely unfair when it came to this monster. My monster was a special kind of demon.

I kiss him deeply to get him to stop begging. I hate when he gets all caught up in pleasing me that he can’t think for himself. It also made me pull his hair tauntingly as I moaned into his mouth.

“I’m taking it that you knew there’d be an ambush? And you took your time coming back because you knew I’d be mad? And you expected me to be asleep and not ask any questions.” I don’t know why I kept asking him questions. It was a little pointless.

“I expected you to be asleep because your cycle was only a few days off. Turns out it was coming early again.” He took a long deep inhale of my scent and brushed his fingers up under my baggy shirt over the soft spots over my hips. It was relaxing in the way he wanted it to be. “I’m tired of running and not being able to ‘run’,” he rested his head against my cheek, “You need it just as much as I do. I know we said we’d keep looking but I’m so fucking tired, T. We need to stop for a while. If it doesn’t work out and you can’t settle, we’ll move on without them. I know I fucked up but it’s not entirely my fault.” He drew his fingers up my back slowly and pulled my shirt off smoothly. “I promise, if this doesn’t work out in a couple months, we’ll go back on the road. We’ll figure something out. It’s just me and you, T.” He kissed me affectionately, still pleading with me for my cooperation.

“They’re not allowed to come knocking. They have an issue, they call first. I don’t make day calls. And I charge extra if I gotta leave the house.” I lightly brush my finger over the soft spot behind his left ear again. “I don’t want any babies near me. I don’t want kids playing knock-knock-zoom-zoom. We won’t have a doorbell. I want all of my privacy back, including dinners with just the two of us. I want the most comfortable bed you’ve ever laid on that supports both our backs. I want a nice deep bathtub for both of us to sit in. A weekly cleaning service to help battle all of the duties of running a home that neither one of us knows enough about. And I want a census report on these people right down to the way they drink their coffees. If you’re going to throw me in the deep end, I need work ups to catch me up to speed.” I pull some of his curls to sit straight against his cheeks. “Our kid, if there ever is one, doesn’t get to play with these kids until they're vetted. Every last one of them better be up to date on their shots. I can’t risk getting sick again.” I playfully bite his cheek as he dramatically lays down like it’s too much information.

“All you’ve done was state the obvious in a different context. I know the no people rule.” He smacks my ass before pulling on my underwear playfully. “No people at the house. No people in your way. Nobody looks at you. No wolves around the house. The whole 47 yards.” He starts pulling on my underwear more forcefully as I move to let him remove them. “You’ll get your meals alone, your nice bed and deep bathtub. We already established those had to be met.” He plays with my toes as he pulls the fabric off my one leg. Then he played with the toes on my other foot as he freed me. “We’ll go running tomorrow. You investigate and report back what you think.” He brushed his hands up my thighs suggestively. “And we’ll nap out in a field somewhere where nobody can find us.” He drew claws over my upper thighs as he traced circles on my legs with his sharp thumbs. “You love a good midday sunbath and nap,” he chuckles, tracing his fingers over my belly in the same suggestive and protective way.

“As long as you can guarantee I won’t wake up with sunburn,” I grumble, leaning down to kiss him with a chuckle. “And I will have a full report, don’t you worry.” I lean my hands on the bed on either side of his head as I rub myself against him.

“Good,” he grumbles distractedly, retracting his claws as I slowly move to take him.

He moans lightly as I ease onto him, a few centimeters at a time because he’s a perfect fit. He rubs right on every nerve as I bring him deeper inside, stretched out like I’m still a virgin which is miserable for the first few strokes. But once I get him to that peaceful place where my insides twitch and swallow him, I slide straight home, our bodies knocking against each other as we both moan at the rush that comes with it. The kind of rush that makes my skin all warm and sensitive. It also brings us both a small laughter. I brush my nose against his before kissing him lightly as I move against him, curling my feet under his legs to keep the position just right. He kisses me back with a lot of saliva like he can’t help but convey his attraction. It’s also here where his hands find my hips as he urges me on, almost like a cheerleader. I don’t normally let him lay there like this but he’s all bruised up and I like taking charge.

We don’t talk as I ride him with one hand on his belly and one elbow next to his head. There’s no reason to interrupt the interaction with words but I could tell by the way he was sipping at my lips and looking at me that he had more to say. He was probably going to ask me what my other requirements were and how big I expect this random house to be by the time we’re done mostly destroying it. But a day in the sun with him, during my cycle, able to run freely, was like a drug of its own. I move against him forcefully, careful not to throw too much of my weight at him as he continues to lay there and play with my body. Instinctually, I wanted nothing more than to bounce on him like a damn trampoline but I felt that would be a little rude.

He startled me a little bit when he sat up and scooted off of the bed more, tucking his hands under my legs to better spread them as he moved against me forcefully as I moved against him. I knew exactly what he was looking for with this odd thrusting of his and couldn’t help but carefully pull off of him and lower myself back down backwards, handing control back to him knowing we’d both get better leverage this way. The noises that almost instantaneously trickled out of me were louder than I meant for them to be. It made him latch a hand over my mouth with a chuckle as his other arm curled around my belly to keep us violently slamming against each other like we were damn youthful rabbits. I nipped and sucked at his hand while he drew his teeth across the soft spot at the back of my neck, giving me everything I needed to cum knowing that I wouldn’t in a traditional sense. He growled into the back of my head as I braced myself against his knees, wanting more the way the hormones in my body demand at a time like this. He growled again before biting the back of my neck rather hard, pulling at the skin to try to convince my body to stop punishing him and finish what it set out to do. That was about when the wave of pleasure rushed over me, that warning that I was going to cum that made me cry out into his hand. He bounced against me harder, knowing better than to pin me down until he had to. I could feel it as he rubbed every nerve. The sloshing wet sounds of our bodies against each other was a mild distraction from the pulse that slowly grew between my legs. It wasn’t the throb of need but rather a different kind of pulse. It was a slow contraction full of fluttering as my body gave him little warning as he kept moving against me. He bit hard on the back of my neck when he slowed down from bouncing me off of him to slowly mildly fucking me like it hurt. And it does, but not until there’s no room left between us. By then, he’s balls deep with a tight hold on my belly and legs to keep me still. The feel of my body playing with him inside of was like cumming and having an after show. He relaxed and spread his legs out as I sighed and fell back into him. His hand slowly moved away from my mouth to stroke my throat down the middle of my torso like he was petting me. He started playing with my clit just to be cruel, reminding me how good it feels even when it hurts to have him stuck here for this process.

“That’s a good girl,” he mocks, making me smack his thigh hard enough to probably leave a bruise.

“You know I hate that,” I complain, resting my head back on his shoulder and twitching a little bit at the overstimulation of his hand between my legs strumming away like it’s nobody’s business.

“You are a good girl,” he mutters mockingly like he’s talking to a dog before nipping at the side of my neck and moving his hand back over my belly. “My good girl.” He drew his teeth across my neck tauntingly and couldn’t help but briefly agree with him.

“Well,” I mutter, turning my head to kiss his cheek lightly, “It seems for as much of a good girl as you deem me to be, you’re my prisoner.” I moved a little bit for emphasis of what that means with him trapped inside me. “My asshole.” I pat his cheek lightly to mock him.

“I am your asshole,” he chuckles, nuzzling his nose against my neck as he carefully sits back into the bed. “I’m also more than that as your mate.” He cupped my breasts for whatever reason like he suddenly remembered they were there when they’ve been flopping around between us this entire time. They bring that skin to skin smacking noise with them and I’m still pretty sure I could knock him out with them if I swung around close enough to his face.

“What? Are you going to play masseuse?” I chuckle, curling my legs around his like two snakes and laying back against him as he starts kneading them firmly because he knows I only like him touching me when it’s rough enough.

“Masseuse, domestic housewife, feral rabbit catcher,” he chuckles, kissing my ear hard, “Do you need me to wear a skirt the next time I’m near a vacuum?”

“That’s not funny,” I say, cutting right through the humor because for some reason that offended me.

“You’re so uptight,” he complains, poking my belly hard before going right back to massaging my heavy breasts. “I think I’m going to have to run around the house in a fancy puffy tutu skirt until you get over it.” He dipped one of his hands down to my clit again, strumming away just to torture me. I moan and twitch, trying not to move so much knowing it’ll hurt both of us. But he was doing this on purpose. “You made it sound like I said you had to wear the skirt,” he growls in my ear in warning, getting me all worked up that I can barely take it. “I might share my clothes with you but the skirt is mine.” He laughs hard as I moan again and strain against him, finding it hard to think. “Yeah, you’re gonna sleep like a damn baby,” he chuckles, “There might not be a tomorrow for you.” He bit down on my neck just as my insides tightened against him in warning that it was still going to be a while. The process is never easy for whatever biological reason. He kissed the new mark and drew his hand from my clit over where our bodies were connected to tease both of us and to the scar on the inside of my thigh that he’d given me that’s similar to a wedding ring without a fraction of the money. It’s just a mark any dumb fucker can find when they got barking up the wrong tree. This is very much his tree and I’m lucky to have him. The mark on my neck joins a whole bunch of others. It’s a show that my man takes good care of me but it’s also another reason to wear hoodies in public. They’re all mostly at the back and base on my neck, brought on by this exact exchange, the sacred knot. He moved his hands back to my belly when I strained against him a little bit from the cramping that started. It prompted him to slowly move us so I could lay on my stomach and he could lay over me and play with my hair as if that was much of a distraction. The cramping was similar to period cramps in the ungodly way it rolled right through me. It was the response of my cervix dilating, a slow process followed by cramping that I’m pretty sure he can feel and that I find rather humiliating. I just wish it didn’t have to be a shared experience. He draws lines across my back like playing with me would distract me from the pain that kept bubbling in my belly from all of the change happening.

“It’s worse?” He asks, finding that I’ve started squeezing his legs with mine.

I don’t unbury my face from the sheets as I nod my head. I didn’t like suggesting that things were worse but they were definitely worse this time. He started rubbing my back and massaging above my hips where the source of the pain seemed to sit. Ten minutes rolled by and normally, my body would’ve done what it needed to do and released him so we could go to bed. But fifteen minutes rolled around and I was still cramping. It led to him having to carefully untangle my legs from his so he could situate us in bed on our sides, so he wasn’t crushing me. I was uncomfortable and humiliated because I didn’t really want him stuck to me like this. Meanwhile, it didn’t even seem to phase him as he stroked my belly and alternated playing with my breasts. I savored all of his tender loving care because I needed it and it just made me feel like we’d never have another single interaction like this again.

“You know,” he says after a while, curling his leg over my hip in a playful manner, “It felt too easy before. Maybe this was what we were waiting for.” He kisses the side of my head and strokes my hair. “You’ve always just been different. Stop thinking so much about it.” He chuckled as he nibbled on my ear playfully to lighten the mood.

“This just feels like something isn’t right,” I whisper, tracing the bones in his arm.

“Then we’ll deal with it. But I heard that some couples get locked together for hours. It hasn’t been that long.” He leaves a wet kiss on my cheek with a suction sound with it.

“So… this whole time you were just expecting us to stay like this for days?” I shake my head with a chuckle. “I could not imagine such a thing. I’d be through with you already if I had to deal with that.”

“Then we’re lucky,” he chuckles, pulling my hand to his mouth so he could kiss my knuckles. “Just remember it could always be worse.”

He was right but he was also ridiculous. I pulled his hand back with mine and curled his arm back around me because I liked the way he held me like nothing bad could ever possibly happen to us. He nuzzled his head against mine and it was almost like we fell asleep into a light nap. No more worrying. No more waiting. Just cuddling while we ignored our current situation.

I don’t know how much time passed but it was a lot of time and the sun had started coming up when the next steps started unraveling slowly. The contractions that kept him in place were now slow moving waves against him to finish off what we started, milking him inside of me and loosening enough he could move around a little bit. It was still too tight for him to leave because my body demanded payment for all of the work it put in to get us here. Payment was in the form of visiting the sperm bank and demanding everything he could possibly have in there.

He almost jumped up like it startled him and I groaned at all of the movement as he moved back on top of me. He chuckled at me as he slowly moved against me like he was lazy fucking me and I was half asleep. I guess in its way it was similar to that. He started playing with my clit again because he would’ve gotten me off numerous times already if I’d been able to let him go. He was a generous lover and I was very lucky for his pride and attention, taking everything he had to give. I moan and adjust my knees to give him better access even though he didn’t need it. He just moved inside of me as my insides moved around him, squeezing and coaxing a proper release out of him that didn’t take very much. He waited long enough to get it out that I couldn’t help but sympathize with him. He moaned, grunted and groaned behind, rather loudly as he came violently. The hot jets of fresh sperm spilled out of him and went right to their new home deep within me, without interruption. There’s no cervical wall in their way, just a sacred entrance waiting for it to pass through.

Upon this release, my body slowly started letting him go, as if this unconscious purely biological transaction was happening. He couldn’t help the second stream, a typical expectation between us. It comes with the territory, knowing that fertilization is a complicated process. It’s never been more than two, so I started trying to ease away from him, only to be met with claws and snarling. It made me want to elbow him in the face for being so belligerent with me. But as he slammed himself against me, snarling viciously, his hand knotting in my hair with claws against my scalp, he came again. It was just as hot and strong as the others, searing right through me almost painfully. He was worn out by then, done putting up a fight as he stopped moving against me and retracted his hand from my hair. I could tell he didn’t mean it by the way he was afraid to touch me. But I’m his good little girl and it takes more than pulling my hair to make me afraid of him. I just had to wait for him to have enough room to find his way out and wait for him to relax because if anything, I think it freaked him out. I laid still on the bed and waited for him to join me but he didn’t. He just loomed over me like he’d done something horribly wrong. I could smell his fear. It was sour and foul because he’s not a predator that scares easily.

“I’m okay,” I grumble, rolling onto my back lazily to look at him.

His face was partially distorted because he couldn’t calm himself down. The animal was just as upset as the person. Fear driving both of them to look like a deer in headlights.

“Hey,” I complain, sitting up to grab his hands and pull him to me, “I’m okay. I promise I’m okay.” I stood up to cup his grumbly face. Under different contexts, I would’ve found this amusing. “Tell me what you need.” I pull his face down to brush my nose against his.

He huffs a breath at me before brushing his nose against mine, mirroring my nuzzling and resting his forehead against mine. “You’re gonna kill me,” he breathes, his voice a soft whisper.

“Yeah, well, I promise not to make it that easy,” I chuckled, kissing him gently at first and then deepening it as he kissed me back. “There’s a lot worse I wish to do to you before you drop dead on me.” I chuckled only because he was hiding his amusement.

I fell back into the kiss and brushed my fingers through his hair to keep him content. He softened under my hands and I hummed in acknowledgement of it. It just made him pick me up carefully because my legs burned from being stuck in that weird position for what had to be well over an hour. He remained kissing me as he carried me into the bathroom and drew a hot bath. That was exactly what we needed, despite the dingy atmosphere of the motel. In the dark, we could pretend the bathroom was nicer. That much was certain.

He sat me on the toilet and I couldn’t help but have to go, feeling like I needed to pee for hours. It was not like me but I really didn’t feel like reading into it. I just went, cleaned myself up, washed my hands and danced around him as he relieved his bladder of the same backup. I normally would’ve kissed his back but decided not to, letting him do his business and climbing into the hot tub with a near moan as relaxation washed over me. This was indeed everything I needed. He kissed my head as he climbed in behind me, the two of us not really fitting but imagining we did. He pulled me back against him and turned the water off with his foot because he’s just a ridiculous man under all of that brood. I settled comfortably against his chest and tried to ignore the way his hands stroked my belly. Everything we knew about each other, about what all of this was, changed. But he didn’t get to run away, so I wasn’t going to either. It was a little funny to me thinking he’d run away when we both know I’m the runner. I just relaxed into him more as he leaned his head against mine.

“You’re what I need,” he whispers, kissing the side of my head lightly, “I need you, even if it kills me.”

“Good, ‘cause I need you,” I grumble, entangling our fingers over my belly. “I promise I’m not going to kill you, even if you pull my hair.”

He bit my cheek playfully. “Brat.”

I just shrug and pull water over my chest slowly. He leans forward carefully to grab the eczema soap we share to start washing me like I wasn’t capable of doing it myself. It was his most relaxed behavior, calming whatever he was still fighting by taking care of me in this very simple way. I let him wash every inch of me he wants to from my ears to my toes and back up. The feel of his warm skin against mine in this way was also relaxing for me. I wasn’t like this before him. I honestly don’t like being touched so imagining someone running their hands over me like this. It comes from a deep place of trust and affection that I didn't have. This was my mate doing something he likes doing. It didn’t even really require my participation. I let him rinse me off before turning around to face him, laying weird in the tub to stroke his cheek and nuzzle my head into his neck without hurting my legs. He strokes his fingers through my hair like he was trying to make up for grabbing it like he did. My hair was an unruly mess I wasn’t about to start worrying over anymore.

“You can’t dye your hair anymore,” he whispers, pressing his nose against mine, “No more salons. No more fancy coffees or ice cold energy drinks. No more hot tubs.” He thought he was so funny. “No more cheap fast food. No more people. No nuisance kids. No doorbells. No noise.”

“You’re not locking me in a room and keeping me trapped in a bed,” I complain, tracing his jaw with the edge of my finger. “You owe me sunbathing on a good run.” I relax against him more. “This also doesn’t mean I’m pregnant.”

“It doesn’t?” He asks dramatically before splashing me annoyingly like a little kid. “That’s not how this works? I can’t just snap my fingers?” He snapped his fingers a few times like it was magic that wasn’t working.

“Okay, Michael Banks,” I grumble, sitting up to get out.

“Michael Banks?” He made a face at me in the dark. “You’re cultured?”

I made a face of disgust at him. “To think, I might’ve made a baby with you.” I get out of the tub dramatically only for him to be a single step behind me, unplugging the tub.

“C’mon, you’re the one who thinks you’re feral,” he complains, scooping me up off my feet before throwing me into bed still wet. “You never talk movies with me.”

“There’s no TV,” I grumble, holding my hand out towards the TV as he pounced on the bed over me. “Why would we talk about movies we can’t even watch? Plus, you know I don’t like TVs. They give me headaches.”

He makes another face at me before kissing me. I nip him for it and suddenly, it’s like nothing bad has ever happened.

“You know, you’re the moody one, right? Do you think you’re done PMSing?” I laugh when he flashes his wolf at me, briefly distorting his face again to show that he doesn’t like my comment. But then he nips a line down my body and buried his face between my legs briefly to see if there was any significant change yet. But I knew he wouldn’t find any scent changes or hormonal differences for a few days. So, all he was doing was mocking me more again.

So, after I smacked him across the back of the head and scrambled away like he was the big bad wolf about to get me, he tackled me in a big bear hug with our heads against the pillows. He pulled the blankets up over us after he tangled himself around me so I couldn’t escape like we were playing some game. But I just relaxed into his strong hold and let him cover us in the blankets. This probably wasn’t what he expected me to do because I fell right asleep like his attempt to crowd me was nothing more than being swaddled like a baby.

#creative writing #writeblr #writeblr community #monster fic #monster smut #reimagined werewolves #werewolf romance #monster romance #dark and moody #dark romance #thessarae x halloran #fiction writing #my wip fic #my ocs <3 #my ocs #damned from the start #twisted romance #fic writing #writing #work in progress #moody atmosphere #moody vibes #read me #read this #monster boyfriend #monster girlfriend #monster writing #monster story #monster lover #werewolf

[funzos]

It is true that there’s absolutely no need for your personal sketchbook to be polished at all or to have only your best sketches, you should not feel bad for that stuff, BUT if it makes YOU happy literally just re-do parts of your sketchbook, draw or paint something else on top of it, paint white that one page you think is hideous and you have a new blank slate, draw in a separate colored page and then just glue it on top of your ugliest drawing, make a collage and just cover the bits you don’t like, if it doesn’t damage your notebook just rip pages off...

If you feel like you “ruined” a neat or like expensive sketchbook with a couple of “bad” things just get rid of them, don’t feel guilt on that either, it’s not an obligation to preserve artwork that you dislike, and it’s a sketchbook the whole point is to use it as much as you can or want to practice, just remove stuff, nobody’s gonna know.

And if you want to share some of your sketchbook and there’s these pages that suck and you don’t wanna show, just don’t show, I’ve seen someone say they’d do a sketchbook tour but find some drawings too embarrassing to film, you can do whatever you want, if someone points out you skipped a page, say “mind your business”

#just having some thoughts and though they might be worth sharing on this blog not my main #thoughts

[hanaasbananas]

Power to Play Chapter 4

A series of ficlets each based off a song from the McFly album Power to Play

AO3

Prev//Next

God of Rock & Roll

“Father?” Gabriel started slightly, hand skittering across his tablet screen and drawing a line over his latest design. He scowled. 

“Can I ask you something?” Adrien’s voice echoed slightly in his office and Gabriel resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in irritation. He could feel the stirrings of a headache already. Nobody respected the meaning of a closed door anymore. 

“What is it, Adrien,” he snapped. “Can’t you see I’m busy? Speak to Nathalie.”

Hovering in the doorway, Adrien wrung his hands together nervously, meeting Gabriels gaze and quickly looking away. “I did. Um, Nathalie told me to ask you.”

“Go on then. Spit it out already.” Gabriel had already turned his attention back to his work, barely paying attention to what Adrien said next. He’d just ask Nathalie about it later.

“I’ve been asked to be in a music video by this band and wanted to confirm with you if I could do it before I accept the offer.” 

“Yes, yes,” he waved a hand dismissively without looking up. “Very well that’s fine. Now leave.”

Adrien didn’t have to be told twice, practically running out of the office, pausing only to shut the door behind him.

“Finally,” Gabriel muttered. He really needed to get a sign for his door.

*

Days later, Adrien was practically buzzing with energy on his way home from the music video shoot. The fact that father had let him do it at all was a miracle and Adrien had–slightly guiltily– turned his phone off just in case father changed his mind. But much to his relief, there had been no missed calls when he’d turned it back on several hours later.

Still, he didn’t hang around for the group outing afterwards, unwilling to push his luck any further. 

“It was so much fun!” he exclaimed to Nino on the phone. “Like, really cool. I can’t wait til you guys get to see it. And they let me take some of the leftover paint.”

“No way seriously?!” Nino sounded impressed. 

“Uh huh. You can use it for your next project; it’ll look amazi– ” Adrien trailed off as he caught sight of father waiting for him by the stairs.

“Where have you been?” Father’s voice was sharp. The grin slid off Adrien’s face.

“Hey Nino, uh..I’ll talk to you later.”

He could practically feel his friend wince through the phone. “Good luck dude.” 

Putting his phone in his pocket, Adrien took the opportunity to school his expression to be more neutral. “I was…” he began slowly. “I was at a shoot. The one I told you about.”

Father frowned. “Oh.” Glancing down at his tablet he tapped the screen a few times before nodding. “Alright. This was a…friends amateur project, correct? Whatever the case, I trust that you represented the brand appropriately.”

If smearing neon glow in the dark paint all over myself and rocking out on a guitar is an appropriate representation then yes, I did. Adrien thought. Somehow, he didn’t think father would agree.

“Yes,” He lied.

“Good.” Father was already walking away, no longer interested in the conversation. “Off you go. You missed your piano practice today, I expect to hear you playing shortly.”

“Of course, father.”

*

“You asked for me, father?” 

“Yes.” Gabriel sighed. “Come here. I want you to have a look at something.” 

Curiosity flickered across Adrien’s face as he made his way across the room. He regarded Gabriel with wide, guileless green eyes until they alighted on the tablet in his hand.

“Oh cool!” Adrien exclaimed. “I didn’t realise the video came out already!” 

“It did,” Gabriel said. “And I would like you to explain this to me.”

“Explain what?”

Gabriel had hardly been able to believe his eyes when Nathalie had shown him the video. He’d caught her hiding a smile as he’d watched it, but he didn’t see what was so funny. It was going to be a disaster for the brand, to see the face of Agreste Clothing–his son– cavorting around shirtless and covered in body paint for some silly band's music video. They couldn’t even pretend that it wasn’t Adrien because he had been named and tagged in the post. 

It was a disaster.

“This,” Gabriel shook his tablet in Adrien’s face. “How dare you go behind my back to do this–”

“I didn’t though.” Adrien interjected. He lifted his chin stubbornly to meet Gabriels surprised gaze. “I got your permission and even told you about it afterwards, remember?”

Now that he’d mentioned it, Gabriel did have a vague memory of him asking for something, but really, was he supposed to keep track of everything Adrien did? That was a  completely unrealistic expectation.

“This is not what I approved–”

Adrien shrugged. “Yes it is. I gave Nathalie all the information after you said I could do it, it’s not my fault you didn’t actually read through it.” 

Gabriel turned the tablet back around and quickly skimmed through his emails from the last week. And there it was: itinerary and briefing for ‘God of Rock and Roll’ music video shoot. Huh.

“Was that all? I need to go to school,” Adrien said, sounding a little impatient. 

“Yes, you’re free to go,” Gabriel said, still frazzled by the oversight. Pulling up the video again, he began to scroll through the comments, startling when he accidentally pressed play and the first lyrics blared out at him:

I’m the number one at making bad decisions..  

“Oh shut up,” he grumbled, turning the tablet off and throwing it onto his chair.

He really did need to start paying better attention to things

#banana writes 🍌 #ml fanfic #gabriel agreste #adrien agreste #ml crack #power to play