#even when they r not on the same canvas they r still looking

[romanoffsbish]

…And I, Chose You

Scarlett Johansson x F!R

After watching your broken love unfold on canvas Scarlett has to fight her fears (and a jaded you) to win her love back / Aka, the part 2 to Maroon that won the poll | WC: 2,121

Your heart pounded in your chest as you allowed Scarlett into the free flowing space, you weren’t exactly rich so there were no massive walls to separate your kitchen from the quaint little living room—you had meant it when you called yourself a starving artist.

“Your place is nice,” she attempted the dreaded small talk, her voice a pitch higher as she willed her heart to relax, and her thoughts to stop racing. You laughed, it was a familiar sound that made her wary soul ache.

“I’m serious Y/N/N,” she groaned, the familiar use of your nickname brought a smile to your hidden face. “You’ve got a flair for making places feel like home.”

——

Scarlett hated the way your shoulders tensed, and the mugs in your hands clinked on the counter. Her words were genuine but you were unfamiliarly guarded. She once told you, while drifting off to sleep against your chest, that you were what made her house a home.

Then she ripped your heart out and left you alone.

What used to be an easygoing relationship was now tainted, shrouded in collective shame, and despair.

You settled onto the couch following the long, awkward moment of silence, her warm mug of tea, made to her specifications was set before her where she sat on your recliner with her feet tucked beneath her tiny frame. It went untouched as all she could do was savor being in such close proximity to you, her glassy eyes remained focused on your aged face. Another reminder of the precious time she had lost with you, and all the reason she needed to finally make a decision to fight for love.

Scarlett went to speak, but your tired voice cut her off, “What are you doing here Scar? Don’t you have promos to run for the next movie? With your little boy toy?” The contempt was obvious, she was sure it stemmed from the way she’d usually promoted the films with her ex fling Chris, with the kind eyes and charming smile.

“Can we please not fight?” Scarlett’s eyes were duller than ever before, normally you would give in to her pleas, but this was your home she’d wandered into and you felt an unrelenting urge to defend it. “If you were looking for the girl who bends to your every whim she is back in 2019, you’re now meeting a loveless edition.”

“As if,” the blonde snorted, “You’re a total sap Y/N.”

“Love is an illusion Scarlett, end of the discussion.”

Scarlett watched you jump up from the couch, and just as she expected you began to pace the tiny kitchen. If you wanted a fight, then the award winning actress would give you one for the books. “If love is an illusion then I guess I’m a fucking magician Y/N because no matter how hard I try I can’t stop myself from loving you, but more importantly I don’t ever want to.”

“It’s been two years Scarlett, you don’t know me!”

Scarlett scoffed, “You are unbelievable!” The way you flinched didn’t even deter her as she walked over to you, her body pressing yours into the counter as her hand raised to slap you across the cheek for making such asinine remarks. As if she didn’t know you wholly and love you just the same. You were all she wanted.

Then she saw a flicker of hurt in your eyes, and instead of letting her anger win she cupped your jaw and softly spoke, “You eat your sandwiches without the crust.” Your eyes crinkled and she had to fight the urge to kiss away your obvious confusion. “You truly have the palette of a child Y/N, I might have been absent from your life, but I know you still live off PB&J’s.”

“That’s nothing more than a counter observation.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she sighed, but then she shook her head with a reminiscent smile on her face. “You hate when people interrupt you, it always drives you up the wall that people can’t wait their turn,” she noted something that’s standard for most, but before you can state that she continues, “Except for when it’s a child because you love their impatient wonder.”

Scarlett felt a sense of accomplishment when she saw your eyes had sparkled, she knew you were likely thinking of her family get togethers with her nieces. Which took her back to all of the functions where you were welcomed like one of their own, which you were. “You despise sports Y/N, but you always indulged my family for the super bowl, because you cared so much.”

“I went for the food,” you deadpanned to keep from letting her know that this attempt was working on your soft heart. “I know, my mom glares at me now that your seat is forever empty. She misses your reviews.”

You bit your cheek, and closed your eyes to cover your sadness. Scarlett saw right through you though. “They all miss you—I miss you Y/N, and I know that you are just hiding behind the hurt that I caused right now, but I know you miss me too. I am your muse after all.”

“I said that stuff to keep people from falling apart, if I left them with only morose thoughts they’d never come to another one of my gallery’s. It was only business…”

“Only business?” You nodded, eyes fixed in a glare that genuinely left the blonde amused. You were trying so hard to make it seem like you hated her, but she could see right through to the hurt in your gorgeous eyes. Scarlett rolled her own in good faith, and continued on as her thumb tenderly traced over your clenched jaw. “Decades of separation could go by and I’d still know you Y/N, not because you are predictable, but because you are my soulmate, and souls don’t truly change.”

“I mean it Scarlett, I’m not who I once was,” you were losing your fight, just like she hoped for. “Bullshit.”

“I have changed!” Scarlett hummed as her head nodded. “I know you have honey, but deep down you are still my very special girl, the one who runs with the facade of hopelessness but with every stroke of your heart you bled our unenviable love onto the canvas.”

“I-I,” your voice wavered, and her thumb gently ran over your chewed up bottom lip that now trembled. “Give me a chance Y/N, I promise it’ll be different.”

“Scarlett, I can’t be your secret, not again, not ever.” The blonde smiled, a direct contrast to your mood as you struggled not to cry. “There’s no more hiding,” she coo’d, her delicate voice comforting you along with her soft hands that wiped away the tears that finally fell.

“You’ll be my plus one to the Black Widow premiere.”

“Scarlett—.” The blonde leaned in and kissed you hard, the worried words faded from your mind as your hands moved to position themselves on her hips. Your head tilted, allowing her the opportunity to deepen the kiss and there was no hesitation as her tongue met yours. Soft moans followed the smacking of lips and harsh breaths left your nostrils to prevent the inevitable. “I’m going to make it right Y/N,” Scarlett panted against your glistening lips. “I’ll love you out in the open this time, and you can create with a much happier stroke.”

You wanted to believe her, this time felt different than all the other times she made similar promises, but you were still bruised, and therefore wary of her intentions. “How will this work?” You inquired without missing a beat. “You live on the other side of the states Scar.” The blonde frowned, never thinking of this presenting as an obstacle. “Simple, you’ll come home with me Y/N.”

“Please don’t say no,” she begged, already seeing your rebuttal coming. “I don’t want to be back there Scar.”

“That’s fine baby; I moved, I couldn’t live there without you, so I found somewhere different. Hopeful that it would be what helped me move on, but I began to fill the space with subtle reminders of you. I ignored their connection until my mom laughed in my face one day.”

Scarlett saw the question in your eyes and sighed, “I began eating PB&J’s every morning, I danced alone to your favorite vinyls and I might have bought all of your online pieces when you posted them, thinking that maybe your art could be your placeholder, but it just never was enough of you. I needed the real thing.”

“I don’t know Scar, this feels like a gamble.” The blonde nodded, “That’s what love is Y/N/N, not an illusion—it’s real, but it’s messy and comes with risk.”

“I’m not sure I have it in me to risk losing it all again.”

“I’m not sure of much myself baby, but I know this, without you around I feel like my life is empty, but with you in my arms like this I feel unbound, like nothing could ever break me again, besides you. This will be our fresh start, so please, just don’t say no.”

You took a step to the side, freeing yourself from her intoxicating hold so that you could think clearly. You sat back down on the couch, silently patted the spot beside you to calm her nerves, but made her wait for your resounding yes as she’d took so long to do this. It was only fair that she didn’t get an instant response.

Scarlett suddenly stood, hands shaking out at her sides as she faced the prospect that the desperate kiss you two just shared was in vain. Maybe she was too late, and if so she would just have to face the karmic reality. “I’m staying at the Chateau Marmont Y/N, my number is the same, whether you want to try again or not, I just want you to know that I will forever love you.” You said nothing still, letting her walk outside with a sad smile.

Scarlett cried the entire way to her car, her head fell onto the horn, and startled her into reality. She didn’t want to draw attention to your place, so she put the keys into the ignition with plans to cry at her hotel. Just as the blonde was about to start her engine she saw your front door fly open, and after a moment of pause she speedily jumped out of the car to meet your urgent steps. “Kiss me,” you commanded, she was a bit taken aback, but then she saw the test in your eyes just before her rushed hands pulled you in for a sloppy kiss.

Everything around you two seemed to fade, lips locked in perfect harmony, even with the flash of a strangers camera trying to capture the moment. You felt as her hand cupped your face more broadly, it alarmed you momentarily, until you realized she was shielding you from them, not hiding. “I’ll come with you Scarlett.”

Her lips, painted a delicate shade of maroon lifted, and for the first time in forever you felt unending joy; you were finally home again, in the arms of your forever.

———

Bonus:

You stepped out of the Cadillac, the tinted windows no longer there to shield you from the perilous crowd that had awaited you outside the metal door. You saw the many faces of her fans, all with their eyes on you, and the dirty looks of a few made your skin crawl. Most of them regarded you with a smile or indifference, but the others looked to you as if you’d crushed their dreams.

Scarlett was quick to take your hand in hers, helping the anxiety to melt away as she kissed your cheek with a purpose before she pulled you along the red carpet. Her every move was calculated as she spoke to the fans that regarded you with the respect you deserved. With the excuse of limited time she disregarded the others, then guided you into the event with a protective arm around your waist, and her free hand still in yours.

You’d attempted to let her go, aware that this event was her moment to finally shine, but she only fixed you with her best, heatless glare as she pulled you closer. There was no Natasha Romanoff without you, the one who pushed her to go to the audition after you helped her practice her lines. Just like there’s no Scarlett Johansson without you either, you were her lifeline, and it was about damn time the world knew that.

#gxg #scarlett johansson #scarlett johansson imagine #scarlett johansson fanfiction #scarlett johansson oneshot #scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson x female reader #scarlett johansson x you #scarlett johansson x y/n #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine

[roeroe-world]

teach me.

starring: elindasan as shanice, devante swing as himself

set in 1993.

warning: not much plot, detailed smut, mentions of drugs, use of profanity

The lights in the musician’s home studio were dim as per usual. A clad of unique instruments of different colors, shapes, and sizes were displayed neatly within the spacious area. Being a part of the successful R&B band, Jodeci, means there were a lot of accolades. Gold and platinum records hung on the walls, showcasing the quartet’s hardwork and dedication.

Mistakenly, the young woman’s manicured index finger hits the wrong piano key. A snort is heard from her as she attempts to play the notes yet again. Her dainty hands pressed against the piano keys smoothly, finally playing the melody her boyfriend had been trying to teach her for the past two hours.

“There you go, baby.” DeVante sends her a nod of approval.

On this specific day, Shanice decided she wanted to learn to play the piano. Her boyfriend being a musician was a perk because he could literally teach her to play any instrument. But it wasn’t easy.

It takes a lot of patience when it comes to Shanice. She isn’t a fast learner like he is or wanted her to be. If she wasn’t his girlfriend, he would’ve given up before they even started.

Thinking she’d got it, unexpectedly, she hit the wrong key. A loud, abrupt sound meeting their eardrums, resulting in the couple to cringe. He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, mentally thanking himself for smoking a blunt before returning home. “…Shanice, Shanice…” DeVante was growing impatient. “We’ll continue tomorrow. Aight?”

“Baby, I want to do this now.” She whines similar to a child earning a heavy sigh.

“Shanice, I just got home from the studio. I been working all day. I’m high, tired, and hungry.”

Despite possessing an at home studio, DeVante would work at another recording studio. He worked with a plethora of other artists so he couldn’t invite just anyone in his home anymore especially given that Shanice moved in a year ago.

With an eye roll, “You used that same excuse last time. To this day, you still haven’t really taught me to play your electric guitar.” She was gaining an attitude and so was he. Both were highly frustrated. “I know how busy you are but the least you can do is teach me the piano. Come on, D.”

His deep hazel orbs pierced into her direction, sending her a look infused with irritation and annoyance. She was a beautiful woman whom sure could work his nerves. Though, DeVante couldn’t help but think how funny life can be.

Shanice began to work as a receptionist at Uptown Records in ‘91. Her looks and hourglass frame garnered much attention from the male artists yet she never gave either of them a chance. He thought his chances were slim to none as well so he wrote a ballad inspired by her titled, Come And Talk To Me. If he couldn’t say it then he’ll write a song about it.

Before the track was released and became a worldwide hit, he let her listen and the expression etched across her captivating canvas read nothing but pure amazement. “Wow…” was all she could say.

A proud smirk was etched across his pink lips, “What you think?”

“I loved it.” She replied, fighting her smile.

He finally gained the courage to do what he’d been aching to do for the longest. “…love it enough to let me take you out?”

And so she did.

Two years later, here they were. Still a couple and living together. At times, he couldn’t believe he had ‘the fine receptionist’ in his bed. She was still as fine as ever and she was still his. He knew some of the guys at the label envied him because she was on his arm. He didn’t give a fuck.

Their relationship hasn’t always been perfect. Sometimes they were on, sometimes they were off. His feelings for her never changed in the midst of their issues. He loved her and he couldn’t say that for all of the women he’d been romantically involved with.

After moments of contemplating, “Aight. Imma show you one last time.” His plate in the microwave was calling his name. “This ain’t something you can learn overnight, baby.” He shoots her an arrogant wink.

Shanice’s dark brown swirling irises observed him lifting his arms to plant his long and thick crooked fingers against the keys to create a beautiful melody. The way he played the piano— any instrument was effortless. He could write, produce, play instruments, and sing. He was a genius in her eyes. DeVante inspired her in more ways than one and he didn’t even know it.

Observing his fingers closely, she began to scan the side of canvas. His eyelids were shut as his head moved from side to side, indicating that he was becoming engrossed in the melody he curated.

DeVante was a very talented man and on top of that, gorgeous. He had it going on. Women went crazy over him and she saw why, she saw it every day. She wakes up with him. Shanice was living every girl’s dream.

She too was engrossed… but it was for something else.

“D…” The young woman began, her tone of voice dropping and transitioning into sultry. Her left dainty hand sliding across his thigh to grip his member through his dark sweats.

Instantly, the musician stops what he’s doing. The moment his head turns in her direction, she plants a plethora of loving pecks against his lips. His masculine hands sliding along her back while hers gripped each side of his captivating canvas. Soon the pecks grew into a passionate kiss, their tongues dancing around one another’s harmoniously.

Shanice climbed onto his lap, her clothed wetness grinding against his hardened clothed member in a circular motion.

The musician disconnects their lips, “You ever made love against a piano?”

“Unh, unh.” She smiles brightly, her fingers twirling his little curls. They’ve made love countless of times, in many places, some strange. But on a piano? Never.

“Let’s change that.”

In a swift movement, he lifts her upward by her thick thighs as he stands to his feet and sits the beauty on top of the instrument. Her top row of pearly whites digging into her bottom lip, watching her boyfriend slide her panties along her smooth glowing chocolate legs. His hazel irises darkening in arousal at the sight of how wet she was and he barely even touched her.

Lustfully, she watches his tall frame lower between her widened legs. His arms wrapping around her thick thighs so she couldn’t run. Shanice was trapped into his tight embrace.

DeVante didn’t have to touch her for her to get turned on. All he had to do was give her that look and she would melt, willing to do any and everything in an instant. He had her wrapped around his finger and so did she. No matter how many arguments and fights they’d get into, they would never leave each other alone.

Soft and wet.

That’s how she felt in his mouth. Her taste was sweet like honey, essence dripping along his chin. “Mm,” His baritone groans against the woman, earning a plethora of soft moans before her lips widened growing speechless as two of his crooked fingers entered her warm walls.

“Shit, D…” Her manicured left hand grips his box fade as the other held onto the edge of the large black piano for balance. The musician was making her melt, inside and out, especially in his mouth.

“That’s it. Gimme more, baby.” His soaked fingers skillfully digging in and out of the woman’s tightness. He sucked, licked and kissed as if it was his most prized possession.

Shanice’s juices were never ending. DeVante’s hunger quickly diminished as she fed him, slowly grinding herself against his beautiful face. Her jaw agape, completely speechless. He was eating her like he hadn’t eaten in days, though, it had been hours since he’s had a meal.

Clearly, Shanice was his meal for now.

He couldn’t get enough of her. He never could. Her taste, her show-stopping love faces, her moans, the way her juicy lips would fall open as that little squeaky sound passed her throat. DeVante lived for every single moment of pleasuring his woman.

His piercing light orbs staring a hole into hers while she stared downward in his direction, perfectly arched eyebrows furrowing together while she threw her head backward occasionally. At times, her eyes would roll to the back of her skull, giving him a clear indication of how well of a job he’s doing.

“Fuck..” She releases the pent up sensation within her stomach without warning.

Smirking, he stands to his feet, “We not done yet.” Their eye contact intense. Though he could tell her orgasm left her a bit exhausted.

Soon, every single article of their clothing were on the floor. They were kissing on one another’s tattoos as DeVante gave her deep, breathtaking strokes. The sound of skin slapping, heavy breathing, and loud moans filled the musician’s spacious home studio.

“Look at me.” Gaining a tight grip onto her neck, he forces her attention on him. His deep voice meeting her eardrums immediately results in the young woman’s top row of pearly whites to dig into her bottom lip.

Her right leg upon his shoulder for more access, diving deeper much to her pleasure. She was in complete bliss, speechless. Glossy eyeballs peering upward at her man as he fucked her so good. His thick, long member always hit spots that left her eyes rolling to the back of her skull and screaming to the most high.

The feeling of her warm walls hugging his phallus drove him mad, his strokes grew increasingly rougher. As speechless as DeVante was making her, the pace of his hips were making her grow more vocal. She was growing louder and louder, screaming to the top of her lungs. Luckily, they were alone in their shared spacious luxurious mansion.

“You feel so good, baby…” He groans, pressing his sweaty forehead against hers.

“You too,” A helpless moan escaping her lips, caressing the skin of his back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck… ouu, fuck!” Shanice bends backward, back shivering at the coldness of the top of the piano as she laid against the instrument, taking him like a good girl. Her dainty manicured hands gripping her breasts, a fucked out expression etched across her canvas.

“D, ah…” The beauty loses her train of thought, completely and solely lost on the fact that his dick was diving in and out of her. He was so hard, long enough to hit that well needed gummy spot that left her legs shaking.

“Make a mess. Yeah, just like that, sexy.” His deep baritone encouraged her as she squirted uncontrollably, juices spilling along his pelvic area. She was so wet that she was dripping down his legs.

A plethora of high-pitched whines passed her widened lips and DeVante’s top row of pearly whites embedded into his bottom lip, observing the woman lying in front of his standing frame losing her mind. Her large breasts bounced intensely along with each stroke, her gushiness curating a prominent macaroni sound.

Shanice could feel him pulsating inside of her walls, indicating that he was close. “Gimme your babies, D.” Their eyes connected and the minute it did, the couple never looked away from one another. “I want every drop inside of me— shit—”

He knew that she wasn’t thinking clearly but he took what she said seriously.

“I love you, baby…” He breathes heavily, meaning every word he said.

“I— I love you so much. Hmm…” She drags out, eyelids shutting in pure pleasure before admiring the sight of where their intertwined bodies met. “Shit. I love this dick.”

Shanice was drunk off of the musician’s dick, letting out raunchy moans and pornographic screams before releasing yet again without warning. Meanwhile, DeVante’s pink lips hung open slightly as he focused on her reaction. Though, she’d gotten hers already… he wasn’t going to stop whether she liked it or not.

“Fuck…” He curses aloud, feeling his orgasm approaching. His strokes grew rougher and rougher earning several helpless whimpers.

“D… oh yes… come. Just come for me.” As encouraged, he did and spilled every single drop of his semen inside of his girlfriend’s warm walls. Both of their bodies shook at the sensation, their mouths falling agape in ecstasy in unison.

Silence falls between the couple until DeVante breaks it, his nasally baritone speaking, “You can have as many piano lessons as you want.”

Smiling weakly, “Electric guitar too?” Hope filling her low tone of voice.

“Acoustic, electric, whatever. You name it, baby.”

In response, Shanice just giggles. She was ecstatic that he was finally going to teach her.

#black love #black women #black men #romance #90s #devante swing #smut #elinda san #music #jodeci

[sanest-bsd-delegate]

Hiiiii I love your stuff :3 could you write about ranpo and y/n eating snickers??? (The candy bar lol :D)

𝗕𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘀

Oneshot: A little scenario between our lovers Ranpo and Y/N Genre: Fluff, nothing particular A/N: this is such a cute idea, ty anon for requesting. →Masterlist

As the sun began to set, the sky was painted with a kaleidoscope of colors. The golden glow of the sun kissed the horizon, casting a warm and comforting light over the land. The clouds, a canvas of purples, pinks, and oranges, seemed to dance and swirl in the evening breeze. The world was still, as if holding its breath, in awe of the beauty before it.

It was yet another day for the great detective Ranpo Edogawa and Y/N L/N, as they returned from yet another case the agency gave them that day. Hand in hand, you both walked by numerous stores and shops, too obvious about the fact what Ranpo would say next.

All of a sudden Ranpo stopped at his trace, as you got held back by a little, when your eyes traced where his eyes went. Of course, a kid had to eat ice-cream and have the audiency to be rich and afford the premium flavors.

‘You gotta be kidding me’ you thought as you pulled Ranpo away from that spot and continue walking towards the agency. A sudden poke made you halt on the spot yet again, as you see Ranpo giving you pleading smile, his eyes closed as he took away his hand from yours, and when you hold his hat down with both of his hands.

“Ranpo! You need to stop eating so much sugar, its unhealthy besides, I really don’t have enough money to buy you those ice-cream, come on now we need to hurry to the agency and report the case” You said, as Ranpo went to hold your arm, stopping you from moving.

Sighing, you shook your head in disapproval, as Ranpo went to kiss your cheek, making you light blush on the spot, the sudden affection stunned you a little. But before you could recover from the sudden pda Ranpo gave, Ranpo went in to give you kisses all over your face, your forehead, lips, cheek and nose.

Now, was the time people started staring at the couple and you were too much dumbfolded to stop. A sudden bump in your leg, thanks to the kid who passed by you make you back to your senses, as you held ranpo’s head preventing him to give you more affection, that is in public at least.

Turning your head left and right, you find yourself seeing a small shop nearby, as you prayed to find something sweet in that shop.

“R-A-N-P-O” You called out, as Ranpo lift his head at you calling his name, his hands never leaving yours, “I will go buy us something, till then sit HERE”

You specifically had to pat the seat that was under the tree, making sure Ranpo was seated before you headed towards the small shop, looking for something sweet.

A while later you returned back with a packet full of small packed snickers, the chocolate was the closed to what Ranpo ate.

Ranpo looks at you as he jumped out of his seat in joy, running towards you, hugging you tight. “Okay Okay, now stop sulking here are the treats….you deserve” You said, as you handed the packet to ranpo, both of you yet again walking towards the agency.

“Y/NNNNN”

“Hum?” you responded as you say ranpo extending his hand to give you one piece of snickers, and all the annoyance you felt for your boyfriend at that moment vanished.

“Y/NNNN Eat with me!!”

You took the piece of snickers before unwrapping it, as you saw him do the same, before placing the chocolate mini bar in your mouth, the chocolate flavor, melting within.

Both of you, by the time you reached the agency had finished the whole packet of snickers, as you threw the packet throw the nearest bin, walking lazily as you held his hand again. Ranpo yet again haults you, this time your irritation taking over you, “What no-“

A sudden weight was placed on your head  making you confused a little, as your hands reached to touch the mass on your head, a Flower crown

“I love you”

With that, Ranpo skipped away from you, chasing after Atsushi, shouting at him to bring him snacks whereas for you, you held the flower crown in your hands smiling at that small gesture.

Masterlist

A/N: had this in draft for long, Ill sleep for now.

#bungo stray dogs #bungou sd #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd headcanons #bsd manga #bsd x reader #ranpo drabble #ranpo imagines #bungo stray dogs ranpo #ranpo x reader #ranpo #requests to sbd #sbd ranpo asks

[vibratingskull]

Long awaited reunion

Part1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30

Tags : fluff, domesticity, reader is disabled

Owning an appartment together and living together are two differents things. After months on the Relentless you still hope to catch Thrawn during one of your leaves

FemaleReader x Thrawn

Amusingly enough, this is not because you moved in with Thrawn that you see him more often. Your schedule doesn’t match most of the time and you work on a different ISD, only receiving his orders through the loudspeakers of your ship, most of the time you cross paths at a station or you catch the silhouette of his back when he goes and you arrive. So much time you rushed behind him to catch him and almost fell because of your mechanical legs but he’s always too far away and you never join him in time before the doors close. 

So you practically live alone, in this small apartment. Oh, you don’t complain, this apartment is great, practical, sunny with large bay windows, in a rather calm neighborhood and most of all: full of memories. It’s just that you moved in with the expectations of being two. So when you lay down, bathing in the sun in your living room/open kitchen looking at the white ceiling you feel… terribly alone. 

And as one day you were idling around the flat, something struck you : ceiling? White, walls? White, bedroom sheets? White, dishes? White, sofa and poufs? gray/beige, towels? White, ect… You live in a goddamn hotel room without any charm. The most personalized thing here is the pile of mail at the name of your great uncle from his army of mistresses… You check the wardrobe, Thrawn’s clothes are neatly folded taking just the space it needs, while you spread yours, taking all the spaces. You count three identical uniforms and as much civilian clothes, so basically nothing. You check the bathroom, here too it’s the desert, only the chemical shower gel and shampoo the navy distributes, no perfume, no flavored toothpaste, the most personal thing here is his toothbrush. You check the kitchen and all your napkins are neatly folded in their place, untouched, he uses paper ones. You roam around the apartment, no pictures, no canvas, no plants, no nothing. It’s like he never lived here, he barely colonized the place. You look up the living room, he didn’t buy any holos, any music despite the stereo, any gaming console… True you did not either, but you just arrived, he's been here for more or less 8 years! 

Is he afraid to take up too much space in a place that isn’t his? Does he feel at home here? You’re technically the proprietor but it is his home as much as yours. 

Or so you thought…

He never let any traces of his passage, the bedsheets are always fresh when he leaves, his clothes smell of detergent and you can’t compensate his absence by inhaling his scent on the pillows, he never left any leftovers in the fridge so you have no idea of his diet, and even less in his tastes in entertainment. 

In some way it pierces your heart to live with a ghost conscious to erase any clues of his existence.

You sigh deeply, bathing in the sun.

But maybe his absence is more prominent at night.

When the nightmares seize you, and you wake up in tears, screaming. 

When you relive those fateful days in this cavern, you would give everything to have Thrawn here, to embrace him, for him to cradle you and shush you to sleep, embraced by his warmth. 

Maybe facing the angered neighbors that you woke up would be easier with his presence behind your back. Or if you could feel only his presence through his arrangement in the apartment.

For now your apartment is terribly… empty.

So one day, when you can’t take it anymore, you send him a text through his comlink.

“I’m fed up with those bedsheets, they all look the same and mine are getting old. But I can’t decide which one to buy in this catalog, could you make a first selection?”

You didn’t hope for much, you didn’t even hope for a response at all. He’s busy and this message isn’t about work or the safety of you both.

But…

The evening of that same day you receive a ping on your comlink.

He chose several bed sheets!

You review his selection with a fluttering heart, finally a window on his personal tastes!

At first you’re disappointed: he chose several plain white sheets without much personality and you’re afraid you did this in vain. But towards the end of the selection, several motifs started to appear, with touches of colors. A thin smile appears on your lips and you take command.

Once your new colorful bed sheets are in place you pass to the next step: the cookery. You resume the same steps and send him a catalog of plates, he selects a few and you have the last word. You end up with a complete new service of ceramic mint and tangerine plates. As you put them in the cupboards you observe the white walls of the apartment. This is an old, old building and the apartments are still made of cement and not fancy metals. You could do something with that…

So one day, in the course of a conversation you asked, messaging him:

“How was your home back there?” 

“A building in red tones, carved into stone.” 

And he closed the matter.

But you got what you wanted.

You pass the next three days searching the decoration shops for a nice shade of wallpaper.

You settle with a burgundy paint and subsequently cover your whole apartment in sheets and start painting. It takes you your whole leave of two weeks to do it, all alone while he's away in campaign.You broke your back and arms to have them always extended to paint the ceiling, you almost fell from the stepladder several times and spilled a whole bucket of 10L of paint once. But it was worth it, because when you came back the next leave you found a flimsi card with “Thank you.” written on it.

You kiss it, leaving a smudge of lipstick on it and let him here for him to find next time.

He picked up on what you were trying to do because he proposed to change the color of the bedroom to a castleton green, and when you got back you found out he painted it himself. 

Now the whole apartment smells like paint.

You changed the sofa, the poufs, the chairs, the tables… Slowly it became more and more like a nest for both of you. At least to you. He remained really set back in his propositions, not implicating himself too much, but a bit.

It’s a start, you think. 

It is way more colorful now, much more to your liking. You could add some tiles to the kitchen and change to wood cupboards and surfaces… You should do a list.

 You realize the most decoration he used to have must have been the holos of pieces of art that he tidies when he’s not here. Something pocket sized that didn’t leave any trace…

With all that you did not finish to move on, you still had some boxes unopened laying around in the flat. 

You’re opening one when you hear your door shuffles.

‘It’s him!’ flashes in your mind.

You run up to the entrance and see him with his luggage, taking off his trench coat.

“Thrawn!” you exclaim, delighted.

“(Y/n).” He salutes back with a thin smile. 

You walk slowly to him, fidgeting your fingers, feeling suddenly gauche and shy. How much time has passed since you talked face to face? 

At least 10 whole months since the trial.

You just look back at him with a stupid smile on your face, and he observes you with a gentle gaze awaiting your reaction. As you remain immobile he extends his hand to you and you gladly take it, squeezing it.

“Welcome home.” You greet.

“Welcome home.” He murmurs, pulling you into an embrace. 

You bury your head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent.

“I missed you.” You say almost to yourself.

“I missed you too.” He squeezes you and releases you without letting go of your hand.

You guide him into your freshly decorated flat.

“What do you think?” You ask.

“It is way more colorful than in my memories.” He chuckles, “But it is comforting and…Vuckust… Cozy, I think you would say?”

“Yes, that was the goal.” You nod 

“You like what I have done to the bedroom?” He takes off his white jacket, remaining in his black tank top. You admire his arms from the corner of your eyes, heading towards the kitchen to prepare some caff.

“Yes. A really nice color.” You hand him a cup, “You’re here for how much time?”

“I have three weeks. I managed to match it with your last one. I wanted to see you.”Instead of taking the cup, he caresses your cheek with his thumb. “Seeing you eases my mind. 10 months apart has proved more difficult than first anticipated.” 

Your heart flutters at those words. You’re not the only one thinking this has been too long. You press your cheek in his palm with a sigh. A whole week together? It must be a present from the Maker. He takes his cup and you clink them, you speak about everything and nothing, eye in eye, slouching on the couch. He speaks lengthy about the different art form of the cultures he met during his campaign, about the last political mess he ended up in without understanding a thing and you speak about the new recruits you took under your wing, how Konstantine is driving you bananas some days when the Relentless isn’t with the Chimaera how happy you were to met Sealan and Norcaus under your commandment again. 

You pout.

“So that means Karyn is leading the Chimaera for now?”

“Indeed.”

“How far away?”

He grins lightly.

“She too will have a leave soon, I promise.”

“Yeah… When I get back to work.” You do your caprice, much to his amusement.

“By the way, I checked your closet. It is not good.”

He looks at you puzzled.

“I am having a hard time determining what the problem might be?”

“Only three civilian outfits? You never go out?”

“I principally remain in the office to work when I am here.” 

You sigh.

Of course he would be working, even when on leave.

“You should go out and meet people. We could visit Eli’s parents someday? We should give them some news about their son… They must be terribly worried." Your enthusiasm fades spectacularly, remembering the disparition of Eli. You don't know if Thrawn warned them that he sent their pride and joy away. Maybe they think he's a traitor to the Empire, maybe they think he's dead… You didn't have the chance to meet them, and even less to go see them to ease their pain. He nods slowly. 

"You are right, we should visit them." He looks around "You did not finish opening your boxes ?" 

"I'm almost done" You defend. "You interrupted me."

"I will help you finish." He informs you.

It makes you giggle: he's gonna help you move in like a cute little couple! You grin like a child who got candies.

“Speaking about Eli, we have to empty his apartment while he’s away.” he finishes his caff in one gulp.

“Alright.”

__________________________________________________________________

You only finished opening your boxes and you had to close them with Eli’s stuff inside.

“Pfffff… He got more things than it looks like.” You realize, closing the lid of a box.

“Indeed, you can surround and drown yourself in materiality if you are not careful” Thrawn throws from the kitchen.

‘It’s sure not to you it would happen’ you think. You look around your vicinity and notice the pictures on the wall. Some disappeared but a few remained. You approach the wall, crossing your arms. The one you took at the ball disappeared. Only the rectangular shapes of the frame where the sun didn’t shine remains. You smile as you take down the one you took in class with Eli sleeping and Thrawn absorbed by his datapad.

“You like this picture.” Thrawn says right behind you.

You jump, you didn’t hear him approach.

“Yeah…” you put one strand of hair behind your ear. “I like it very much, I don’t have many pictures of Eli.” you sigh.

“Really? You do have a series of portraits of him in your imager.” He recalls.

“Yes but they’re… Wait, how did you know that?” You turn fully towards him suspicious.

“You let your imager on, on the table.” He explains.

“And you took it as a permission to go through it?” you nudge him “There is some private stuff in there!”

“I saw none of that, I promise.” He calmly defends himself.

You pout.

“That is not the problem presently, you got through my stuff without my permission.”

He seems to realize his error as he takes a step back.

“I got curious.” He confesses “I shouldn’t have done that. I present my sincere apologies.” He lowers his head “I tend to get carried away when presented with a new artist.”

“Well I got an account on the holonet if you want to see my pictures. Do not just take my imager like that.” You turn your back to him. You’re not fully angry, just a bit annoyed. Those pictures are your hobby, your little personal pleasure, if he asked you would have let him go through your whole imager no problem, but he didn’t.

He circles your body with his arms, tilts your head and kisses your cheek.

“I am truly sorry,” he whispers in your ear “It will not happen again.”

You grin snarky.

“Is that a new tactic to sway me?”

“Does it work?”

You press your lips, thinking.

“I don’t know. Do it again?”

He kisses your cheek again, tenderly. You smile, the last remnant of annoyance disappearing like snow under the sun.

“Yeah, it works.” You giggle.

He pecks your cheek again, slowly heading towards your lips. He makes you turn your head towards him with the tip of his fingers, your eyes meet but you're inextricably called by his lips. You moisten yours hungrily, which makes him grin slightly in return. He slowly leans over you, closing the gap. Your heart beats at 100 miles per hour, threatening to burst through your ribcage.

Your first proper kiss…

You take a grip on his arms and dig your nails in his flesh in anticipation.

He stops a mere inches away from you, waiting for your consent.

You close your eyes and hold your breath, feeling his on your lips. You part your lips slightly, invitingly.

His comlink rings, completely destroying the vibe.

You reopen your eyes with a sorry smile.

“Another time, your duty calls.” You pat his arm and caress his cheek.

He kisses the tip of your nose and parts from you to take the call.

You finish taking down the pictures, you’ll take one to brighten the apartment, you decide. The portraits you’ve done of Eli are more like a fashion magazine, with a stern expression, you don’t find his gentleness in those. The one where you are sleeping on the table like a cat is perfect for you.

You finish taping the box when you turn towards the counter where his plants sit. Or rather the cadavers of his plants. They’re all dead. 

Except one.

You throw all the dead plants in the bins and turn towards the survivor. It’s a reddish, purplish plant that looks like a bay tree. It holds on surprisingly well.

“Thrawn? What do we do with this plant?” you ask.

“We could dispose of it?” He said, coming back to the living room.

“You sure?” You notice all the gardening tools behind the counters and all the compost in a bag “It would be a waste. Eli gave himself so much trouble to make them grow…”

He eyesides you.

“You want to keep it?”

“We could at least try.” you propose “It would be a memory of Eli.”

“We got plenty of memories tidied up in boxes right now.”

You wince.

“It would be a living memory of Eli.” You correct. “I know plant peoples, they are like their babies to them. I’m sure he would like us to take care of it.” You explain.

He tilts his head.

“I have never really tried to keep a plant alive in my life.” He confesses.

“Well… I got some basics with my parents.” You take the pot to observe it better. “I’ll call her Benedict!”

You hear an amused scoff.

“You want to name the plant?”

“Yes! If you humanize it you’ll take more care of it. Say hi to Benedict!” You press the pot in his face.

“I am not saying hi to Benedict.”

You pout, lowering the pot.

“You heartless man… Don’t worry Benedict, I’ll take care of you.” You whisper.

“Do we have the necessary place at the apartment?” he asks.

“Of course, if we push some stuff. It will be our first baby!”

He seems to twitch at that mention, crossing his arms and laying against the wall.

“No? You don’t want babies? I want several.” you continue “It would brighten our life.”

His gaze goes from the plant to you

“Are we still talking about a plant?” he investigates.

“Of course I’m talking about the plant, what do you… Oh!” You suddenly realize and flush “No I am talking about plants.”

He tilts his head, dubious.

“I swear!”

“Alright.” he nods with a grin “Keep it if you want. We will find Benedict a place somewhere.” He kisses your forehead.

“Unless you wanted to talk about… well, you know…” You can’t even bring yourself to formulate it. Isn't it a bit soon for that? Do you even want one? Is it compatible with your career? What the accommodations would…

“Do not stress yourself, Chacah. I play with you.” He grins satisfied.

“Oh… okay.” You feel a bit stupid now.

“But I take good note that you are open to the subject.” He says softly, leaving the living room.

You remain alone with the cheeks heating up like a fire started under your skin.

“Well Benedict… He played me well on this one.”

_____________________________________________________

You can’t sleep.

You’re too excited to sleep with Thrawn again, your body is full of energy, straight like a bowstring, ready to jump up and down at anything. You feel shivers through your whole body.

You sigh.

Are you a child to get excited like that over anything?

You breathe deeply, trying to calm down. You turn your head to Thrawn, sleeping peacefully. At least one of you doesn’t have trouble falling asleep. You turn fully towards him, observing his relaxed face, his deep and regular breath.

Could you start a family with this man? You’re still young, is it what you want yet? And him? He’s older than you by 20 years at least, your life goals must be quite different. He seemed pleased with your reaction earlier, but he could be joking. You bite your lips. That’s a lot of uncertainty for one relationship. Maybe you…

“You are not sleeping.” he says in the dead of night, breaking the silence.

“Indeed.” You admit. Nothing escape him

“What is it, cha’cah?” He opens his flaming eyes and dive in yours.

Again with ‘cha’cah’, what does that mean?

“I’m thinking about the future… Our future.” you whisper

“I told you not to stress yourself over that.” he gently chides you.

“But don’t you think about it even a little? Doesn’t it worry you a bit? Don’t you have projects? Life goals?”

He sighs. Great, you managed to annoy him. But instead he gently takes your hand and squeezes it gently.

“I think about our future everyday. I planned a lot of things in my head, but I did not want to scare you off with it.”

You crawl closer, completely focused.

“You planned things? Like what?” you murmur in the dark, the only source of light being his eyes.

“We could start by finding a larger apartment. With more rooms.”

“Why?” You ask fully knowing where that conversation is heading, but you can’t help but play coy.

“For a second bedroom.” He murmurs.

“For a baby?”

“For a baby, yes. And their brothers and sisters, if you want it.” He says so low you barely hear him, grazing your palm with the tip of his fingers.

“You want several babies?” You ask incredulously, but you feel a warm sensation spreading in your stomach, something soft and comforting.

He shruggs.

“Why not? I am used to large families, even though our notion of families differs from human’s.”

“Would you teach it to me one day?”

“Of course, cha’cah. Anything you want.”

“Wait hold on…” you say with a flash of lucidity “We are talking babies, and we haven't even kissed yet.”

He stares at you like it dawned on him.

“You are quite right.” he admits, passing his hand in his hair. “We are burning bridges here.I may have planned too far too quickly.” You can’t help but giggle, that is so fitting of him. “Are you mocking me?”

“No, no I don’t think so at least.” you laugh “I just find it adorable of you.” you squeeze his hand lovingly “It is flattering that you already thought so much ahead for us.”

He planned this far with you, envisioning such important matter with you in it. He is serious with your relationship and that flutters your heart.

His nostril flares.

“Yes, but I planned all that without knowing your opinion on it. I may have just built up a fantasy of mine.”

“Well…” you temper “It is a bit soon for me to speak about babies. But with you… I think I can see that future for us.”

He looks back at you with what you think is hope in his eyes.

“Really?”

God you love this man you realize. You take a minute, weighting your words and thinking about it. You nod and kiss his cheek.

“Yes, Thrawn.” You snuggle against his really warm body “I don’t know when, but I will try. For you… For us.”

He circles you with his arms, squeezing you tightly and kisses your forehead, diving his nose in your hair.

“Thank you.” He whispers. “It makes me happy.”

“But we have a lot of things to try first, mister. A family and a relationship doesn’t build themself like that!” You remember him, bursting with laughter.

“I know.” He softly says “I can wait for you. Until you are ready, I will be patient.”

Your cheeks heat up and you hug him back, burying your own nose in his pectoral muscles. You feel so at peace and safe in his arms.

You drift off to sleep without a worry.

@bluechiss @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay @obbicrystaleo, @germie2037

#thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x f!reader #thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth’raw’nuruodo #fanfic #vibratingskull

[imagine-lcorp]

Never Let Me Go (One Shot)

Request

Hey lovely! Could I request a Lena x female reader imagine where R suffers from night terrors and Lena helps her through them? Thanks in advance 💕❤️

A/N: Hello darlings, here another piece, enjoy! Also, hope everyone is having great holidays!! Remember to enjoy your time with your loved ones! 

Lena Luthor x Fem!R/Night Terrors//Word Count: 2,384

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

Music plays through your headphones as you try to concentrate on getting the exact shade of blue you need to finish your painting. You look back and forth between the canvas and your palette, making small circles with your brush to mix the paint. It is nothing fancy, and you know you're no artist, but its something you have come to enjoy, something that takes your mind out of the troubles of the day. It's kind of funny too, you think, as you never thought paining by numbers was going to become your hobby number one, although more out of necessity than a real interest in such artistic endeavors.

You're so concentrated that you don't hear Lena's first knock at the door, and after the second knock goes unanswered, she decides to open it. She steps in slowly and quietly, smiling the second her eyes land on you. She looks then at the half painted canvas you have in front of you and her eyes shine thinking about the effort you put on it, trying to make it better than it was intended to be.

She approaches in the same way but you don't get scared as a pair of hands land on your shoulders. You have come to know the sensation of those palms and fingers on your body to even think they could scare you. You also feel a kiss at the top of your head that prompts a smile out of your lips. A second later, you leave the palette in the little table nearby, knowing your painting hour is over. You take your headphones off too, careful not to hit Lena with them as you move them to rest near the palette.

"It looks amazing." Lena says as she leans closer to you, moving her arms to wrap them around you, letting them hang above your chest and lowering her head next to yours.

"I still can't get the blue right." You say pointing with your brush at the canvas.

"You will get it." She places an encouraging kiss on your cheek. "But now, it's time for bed."

You nod slowly, placing the brush on the palette. You're not finishing your canvas tonight, and you know it's better if you take Lena's advice.

"I'll sleep in the spare room." You say with a tired voice.

"No." You feel her arms tight around you. "I want you with me."

"I may not let you sleep tonight." You sigh.

"I don't mind." She assures you and even when you can't see her directly, you know she's smiling. "We can stay awake together then."

"You need some rest." You try to fight her on the matter. She has been having a tough week, and you do not wish to add to her endless list of worries.

"As you do." Her voice, gentle but commanding, let's you know she won't leave you alone even when you try to push her away. "Come on, darling. It's getting late."

"Okay." You raise your hands to her arms, caressing them with your thumbs before letting her go. A tiny gesture of trust and adoration. "I'll just finish this. Be there in a minute."

"I'll prepare the bed." She kisses your cheek once more time and slides her hands off your body to turn around.

When you hear the door close behind you, you let go another sigh.

Tonight, you can feel it. It's going to be one of those nights.

All day you had been feeling anxious for no particular reason. You just felt it. The chills and the creeping sensation that ran through your spine up to the back of your skull. Like a shadow hanging over you. An omen of bad dreams. It doesn't happen always, but you know the feeling too well and even when you suppose you shouldn't, you are thankful for it. There aren't many times in which you can sense what's coming. It lets you prepare for it. It's a battle you cannot win but it's not so much of a defeat either. You do what you can with what you have and you try to make the best of it. You only hope it won't last long.

You take the brush from the palette and submerge it in the cup of water you have nearby, then you take a rag from the table to clean your hands. Lena awaits for you, and you do not wish to make her wait. You will have to leave that shade of blue for another time.

You reach the dorm after you have cleaned yourself, finding it dimly illuminated by your table lamplight. You hear water running and walk towards the bathroom. Lena is there, a hand testing the temperature of the water falling into the bathtub. When she's done, she closes the faucet and hums satisfied to herself. You knock on the doorframe, not wanting to startled her.

When she turns at the sound, her eyes soften and her smile is gentle.

"I thought you would like a bath before going to bed."

"Thank you." You say with steps leading you to her.

"Do you need anything else?" She says reaching for your hand, lifting it up to her lips and kissing your knuckles.

It makes your heart melt. The way she pours her love onto you, with thoughtful actions and kind gestures, not only on nights like this but every day you get to spend with her. It reminds you no matter how long the night is, she's the light that always saves you from the darkness.

"Join me?" You ask in an almost plea.

Lena knows you're anxious. She could tell from the moment you arrived home with a little frown, you were not having a goodnight sleep that night. You looked more tired than usual and she noticed instantly, your mind had been wandering for the rest of the evening. You had tried your best to stay calm and relaxed for the rest of the day, and she did the same, hoping it could help you ease your own worries.

So when you ask her to join you, she agrees, letting herself enjoy the moment to before you have to deal with whatever comes at night.

"Of course." She agrees without second thoughts.

You stay in the bathtub for as long as you can, with your back against her chest and her arms wrapped around you, feeling little pecks on your skin along the base of your neck, until the water is cold and you're forced to leave and finally change into your pajamas.

You do it all so slowly, drying yourself, changing your clothes, brushing your teeth, all your night routine as much as it is humanly possible to do so. It's not that you're trying to delay the inevitable, but you have found best to take your time with these things, transform their mundane nature into a sacred ritual that reminds you how precious this moments are. Moments of lucidity and irresistible tranquility. The calm before the storm.

"Come closer." Lena speaks softly once you have settled in your side of the bed.

You're a little to close to the edge for good measure. The last thing you want to do tonight is to hurt her if you wake up too suddenly.

"I'll push you away." You look at her, tiredness already settling in your body.

"I don't mind." She says again and scoops closer to your side, placing her head on your shoulder and putting her arms around you. "I'll move if I need to."

"You're not letting me go tonight, are you?" You smile at her.

"Never." She replies, and you have never felt safer in your life.

You close your eyes and sleep comes more easily than you expect. As do the nightmares.

It starts with a knock on the door.

The sound makes you open your eyes and when you do you see a shadow under the door illuminated by the hallway light. Someone is outside of your room and they knock and knock again, waiting for you to open. With a certainty that only comes from dreams, you know whoever is in the other side won't leave until you answer. You should walk to the door and tell them to leave you alone. This is no place or time for whatever business they come.

So you push the bedsheets away and sit straight but as soon as you do, the shadow disappears and the knocks become scratches.

Whoever, whatever, is outside, you now know, does not come in peace. That much is clear by the frantic scratches and erratic noises that come from behind the door. Your heart pounds harder as the shadow reappears only to cover the whole doorframe, making all the light fade. It's dark, darker than you think it's possible to be and you stand in a rush, your naked feet hitting the cold floor and that's when you realize that's all you can feel. It's cold. As if the warmth had left with the rest of the light.

Looking around doesn't bring you comfort. The bed you once shared with Lena is empty now, and you realize with horror you're all alone. What other option do you have but to look around for anything that could help you defend yourself? So you trash the sheet on the bed, the drawers of your night table, only to find nothing. The scratch at the door becomes then an insistent whisper, a sound that not only reverberates around the four walls of the room but inside your head.

They come for you, they say, and there's nowhere to hide.

You feel a hole in your chest. Your body is shaking and your hands are already turned into fists when, with trembling legs, you try to walk to a corner in the room. Each step prompting cracks in the walls, threatening to fall to make way to whatever evil being awaits inside of them. Your back hits a wall behind you, like ice against your skin, and you see it, you feel it. They are coming.

Arms of bone and blood sprout all around you, their fingers like claws searching for you to puncture and tear your body until there's nothing left of you. You scream for help, for Lena, for whoever almighty entity that could help you escape from this.

Your legs finally give in, and you crumble to the floor.

You wake up, in cold sweat and with the scream still in your throat.

It takes a moment for your eyes readjust to the dim light and for your brain to make sense of your surroundings.

Lena keeps her distance from you, waiting patiently on her corner of the bed for you to calm down. There isn't much she can do at the moment and she knows, whatever intent she has at being comforting could go amiss if you are still caught in your night terror.

She can only watch as you fight with your own mind. Your body is still shaking as you try to catch your breath, panting with your chest visibly raising and falling beneath your clothes. Sweat is still visible on your forehead. A second later, you raise both hands to rub your face and with that you brush away tears you didn't even know were falling.

"(Y/N)?" She calls you from the edge of the bed. "(Y/N), are you awake?"

You hear her say your name the way she would call a wounded animal. That's how you feel and maybe, you think, that's what you are, and you curse yourself for it. But you try to put that thought aside as you do your best to focus on the present and what's real.

"I should've taken the spare room." You finally answer, lifting your head to rest on the wall and letting your arms fall to your sides in defeat.

You keep your eyes closed but you can still hear Lena moving from the bed, until her steps reach you.

"Darling." Her voice, with a hint of sadness, is close to you now. "It's over, you can open your eyes."

You don't want to. The lingering fear that had settled in your heart tells you this is another dream, another nightmare.

Lena can see the hesitation in your face, the way your brows furrow in a pained expression. And it pains her too, that she cannot do more than to wait for you to tell her you're alright, that she cannot touch you, hold you, cradle you in her arms, until all your senses have settled to let you know she's not an enemy you have to fight or to run from.

"I'll bring you some water." She says, thinking, knowing there's only so much she can do for you. But as she starts to take a step back, your hand lands on her instinctively, stopping her in her tracks.

"No, please." You say with a trembling voice. You may fear your dreams but nothing is as scary as not having her near, especially in nights like this. "Don't go."

You open your eyes to look at hers, and Lena's heart hurts at what she sees in yours. Fear and shame, as if you were a little girl trying to apologize for causing trouble, and there's nothing else Lena whishes she could do but to stop you from feeling that way ever again. Nothing about this is your fault and sadly nothing can be done about it either. You do what you can with what you have and you make the best of it. For that she is forever proud and the love she feels for you only grows.

"I'm not leaving, and I'm not letting you go." She reminds you as she sits closer to you, with you finally allowing her to wrap her arms around you. "Never."

You focus on her, on her voice, on her body pressed against yours and her arms around you. Arms that you know well, arms that could never hurt you. Like an everlasting promise, she kisses your temple and holds you tight, and little by little the images of your night terrors fade, replaced by this moment, by her, who brings you back from the darkness.

#lena luthor imagine #lena luthor imagines #lena luthor x you #lena luthor x reader #lena x reader #lena x you #lena luthor x female reader #fem reader #female reader #fem!reader #night terrors #night terror #never let me go #one shot #request #lena luthor

[tettatonin]

RULE 34 ︰ senju

⠀⠀⠀⠀— FOR @ickyism's R/WHORESDOTCOM COLLAB ♡

cws: 18+ NSFW MDNI. fem!reader. vtuber!streamer!senju. use of nicknames (babe/baby/pretty). getting caught. mutual masturbation. 1.9k words.

notes: learned a very valuable lesson when post editor was being so homophobic crashing the page n getting rid of whatever i spent the past hour writing bc i copy pasted a long dash from somewhere else. anyways ty aimee n rekha for beta-ing <33

10:21 PM was the time displayed on the clock at the corner of your screen, the colon in between the numbers blinking as seconds went by and your undereyes felt heavier. your pen twirls in your dominant hand, the other tapping a rhythm onto your tablet resting in your lap.

you've been sat in front of your desktop all day, the same four programs opened but only one window maximized. your drawing software took up all four corners of the screen, messy, lewd sketches of your next commission splayed out on the canvas.

it wasn't like you to get stuck and flustered like this, especially as an nsfw artist but it was already too late reject the commission, half of the payment already spent on rent and granted, your client definitely didn't know you and the vtuber were roommates. the both of you having kept it underwraps for ages.

senju was naturally fine with it when you accidentally let it slip, a part of you constantly forgetting she had an entire tag of r18 drawings of her vtuber avatar — something that looked almost like her — and she enjoyed scrolling through it most times, gasping and clasping a hand over her mouth when she found something juicy while you two were lounging in the same room.

after taking up the commission a couple days ago, you couldn't look her in the eye but still you sat here, clit throbbing in guilty pleasure at the sketches of senju with her legs spread and her tits out, puffy folds dripping with her juices.

heat only pooled in you lower stomach the more you looked at it, etching line after line to make it as you saw in your head until you couldn't take it anymore.

you zoom out on the canvas, hesitation in your actions as you lean back in your chair and pull down your panties with your shorts, letting them dangle off your ankle as you rest your thighs on either side of the armrests.

a chill runs through you as you slide two fingers between your folds, slick stringing between your fingers when you hold them up in front of the screen, the viscous liquid glistening in the light.

as you sucked in a breath, eyes trained on the sketch, you spread your own slick around, embarrassment tensing your body but you stopped caring the better it felt, rubbing the bundle of nerves around in slow, steady circles and quiet, panting breaths leaving you the faster you went.

out loud, you'd never admit you wanted more. that you needed senju to be the one touching you and whispering praises in your ear so you could melt like putty in her hands and see her digits wet with your slick, but the thought of it ever coming to fruition felt impossible even with how close you two were.

and with that, any normal person would feel guilty, but only an ounce of it had dropped in your stomach. you were too caught up in your little fantasy to notice it. you felt hazy, greed finally taking over when your climax started to build up. you wished you’d covered your mouth, your panting had turned to desperate moans and the creak of the door had brought you back to your senses as warm air wafted into the room.

your stomach drops seeing your roommate stand at the doorway, senju’s eyes bearing holes into your body as you do your best to fix yourself while you’re trying to force out anything and assure her it wasn't at all what it looked, but when her gaze shifts to the monitor you stop yourself and let the room fall into a near silence, the white noise from your pc and ac filling the dead air as she moved deeper into your room.

senju shuts the door behind her before she makes her way to you, now being able to get a clearer look at your screen. your heart’s thumping hard against your chest the more you anticipate for her to speak, unaware of the look of curiosity on her face while you try and mentally brace yourself for whatever she might say.

you wanted it over with. it was far too late to hit the alt and tab keys as you sat there, sunken in your chair with your head bowed and your hands gripping the armrests, knuckles paled until senju broke the silence.

“you barely go downstairs anymore.” she talks nonchalantly, standing behind your chair and twirling the string of her jacket on her finger. “you spend so much time in here doing god knows what.”

her hands rest on your shoulders, palms smoothing over the slopes of them before they move down over your chest, your thighs pressing together the lower she goes.

“i was worried about you,” she whispers, her hands snaking up under your hoodie, lifting it up over your stomach in the process. “didn't know this was what you were doing all this time.”

“senju, wait—” you reach up, clutching at her biceps when her palms press to the heat of your skin, cupping and squeezing your bare tits in her gentle hold. and you felt like how she’d always imagined, soft and pillowy like cake.

she presses a quick, experimental kiss to your lips as your head's turned to the side. even with her lips hovering over yours, she was still unsure of where you stood in this situation the more she felt your breath hitch against her while she kneaded you in her hands, squeezing your tits a little gentler. though you were under her touch — something you’ve wanted for so long — you still felt tense, overwhelmed even that you're doing this with her.

“relax, it’s okay.” she assured, speaking softly as he lips brushed against the shell of your ear. “a break for the night isn’t gonna kill you.”

while her lips still hovered over yours, you leaned in, doing your best to deepen the kiss with everything you had until she pulled away for air.

“you were about to cum before i came in, weren't you?” she says. her hands move lower, trailing over your torso to the closed gap between your legs. “spread them again for me.. please?”

the humiliation that weighed you down disappeared as senju pressed a few kisses to the side of your head and while her hands smoothed over your thighs, you hesitantly parted them. she took her time with you, her digits finally getting the chance to soak in your slick, the pad of her finger tapping at your hardened clit and rubbing it in circles until you let out a pleasured sigh.

she glances from you to your monitor, noticing it was the one thing your half-lidded eyes trained on once she broke the kiss.

right off the top of her head, the closest thing senju could call the feeling in her gut was jealousy, but that sounded ridiculous in hindsight even with impatience paired with it the more she was left untouched. an idea pops into her head before she pulls her fingers away, translucent white stringing between her middle and ring finger before they’re put up to your mouth.

“open.” she pushes them past your lips and your brows furrow, the taste of yourself was foreign but your tongue still obediently swirled around her digits. “that’s a good girl,” she praised prior to pulling them out.

she strides closer to your desk, her eyes skimming over the digital canvas as you push your chair back the closer she gets, giving her room to stand in front while she fumbles with your belongings.

“what’re you doing?” you couldn't help but ask as you fixed your posture.

“just making some room,” she says, your tablet and keyboard being pushed aside.

senju props herself up on your desk, sitting on the space she’d cleared and she eyes you with a slight smile, lifting the hem of her top over her chest, her tits spilling from under the tight fabric.

“wanna watch you,” she cups them in her hands, giving them a light squeeze. “wanna feel just as good as you did.”

your hand moves back down between your thighs as the sight takes the air out of your lungs. your breath hitches and heat rises to your face the more her hands roam down her body, thumbs hooking into the waistband of her shorts to spare a moment to take them off. she props her feet up on the desk, heels planted on the edge as she leans back onto one hand, cunt out on full display for you as her fingers part her folds, her slick dimly shining under your white strip lights.

you didn't know whether to feel embarrassed or aroused. your sketch had come to life and you were touching yourself all over again.

senju mimicked your actions, sliding her fingers along her cunt, alternating between rubbing her clit and dipping them into her hole as she watched you get off to her.

"take off your hoodie, baby." she says. "lemme see all of you."

you weren't complaining but still you were shy, having only ever undressed for a small handful of people your entire life but senju gave you confidence. she eyed you eagerly, teasing herself until you pulled the garment off and discarded it.

the cold air made your hair stand on end but you ignored it as you got comfy, resting your legs up on either armrest like before with your hand tracing circles onto your clit.

“you look so pretty like that,” she pants, catching the exact moment her words go right to your cunt, your hole clenching around nothing as her words linger in your mind.

“fuck, senju.” you breathe, heart pounding in your chest.

you could only stare at her though your eyelids felt like they weighed a ton. she was dripping everywhere, her digits coated in a clear layer with some seeping down and onto the surface of your desk.

“i want you so bad.” you let slip, swallowing after when your mouth goes dry from thinking of how she tasted.

her stomach tightens at your words, her fingers curling into her sweet spot and making the schlick of her cunt loud enough to cloud your thoughts.

“go faster for me,” she says, straining back a moan as you follow her order, stuttering out moans as you’re rubbing tighter circles onto your puffy clit. “mhm, just like that. wanna see you cum for me, pretty.”

your head felt too heavy to keep up as senju's praises only went in one ear and out the other, and with your high having been put off more than once in the past few minutes, everything felt like a wet dream, something you’d wake up from right at the climax.

senju’s breathless moans filled the room, her fingers pumping into her cunt at a faster pace as she threw her head back. “fuck, baby, i’m close.” she whined.

you matched her pace, rubbing your clit in tighter circles as soon as you felt that familiar buildup in your gut.

your mouth falls open, unable to hold back when your climax washes over you. your moans and mewls only grew louder, her name slipping past your lips in slurred chants while your hole dripped and clenched around nothing.

senju watched you ride it out, chanting strings of curses until the eventual “cumming, cumming!” once she peaked. she could feel herself tighten up, her fingers curling into her sweet spot one last time, pressing onto it as slick dripped from her and pooled at the edge of your desk.

TAGLIST: @dearkamiya ik u waited a loongg time for this one ++ @21-06-1996 @kazuwhora @mqtsuno @harusick @sweetsbysatori

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x reader smut #senju kawaragi #senju kawaragi smut #senju smut #senju x reader #senju x reader smut #senju kawaragi x reader smut #senju kawaragi x reader

[teddybeartoji]

MICKEYYYYY i saw ur wips and ran here as fast as i could !!!!!! ik we have already Talked abt vamp!geto x journalist!gojo x vamp!reader bUT im still begging for any crumbs or snippets u have they r my reason for being … same w knight!reader x prince!gojo i would love to know more abt the next part!! AND AND AND NEIGHBOR!MAKI??? I AM LOOKING

ARI ARI ARI ARI ARI ARI IT'S SOOOO GOOD TO SEE U HERE<333

welcome back to my brainrot!!! the vamps - i'm pretty sure (very fucking sure) that i'm just gonna have to write multiple parts for that au!!!! not really part 1 and part 2 but just snippets from their life i think. ofc the first meeting between gojo and geto and reader but then i really wanna write about shoko and reader too, like how'd they meet etc. i can see like a rainy day with a shivering shoko heading to her favourite bar after a long work day. it's a pretty unpopular place; she has her own little spot in the window booth and the bartender already knows what she orders. a neon light hangs from above the bar but otherwise it's just some random low lamps that barely light up the place - it's perfect like that. the music isn't too loud either, it's mainly 80's music and stuff alike that. shoko thought it a bit lame at first but now, it's one of the reasons she keeps coming back. it's a perfect escape from the life she leads. on that rainy night, though.... the door swings open and a hooded figure struts to the bar, barely catching shoko's attention. she's busy watching the raindrops bash against the window, the cig slowly burning between her fingertips. the quiet clearing of a throat does pull her out of it - it's you. dark eyes and an even darker small smile, pointing to the seat opposite of her. "may i?" it's so sultry, catching shoko a bit off-guard. normally, she wouldn't let a stranger sit with her. why would she? but you? you're different. something about you is already making her hook onto you. digging around in your little bag, you pull out a cig of your own. but no lighter. you lean your elbows onto the table and toward the woman before you. "do you mind?" she knows what you mean; she's already clutching the tiny fire machine in her jacket pocket. the cig hangs from your mouth, a confident smirk pulling on the corners of your dark lips. her hand raises to it, she flicks the ligher and watches your lips fully curve around the thing. it takes light, the tip turns a bright orange for a second before dimming down; you inhale. deep. shoko's hand remains in its spot. and exhale. she gulps.

and reader and sugu, how their relationship began and overall how their life together is (talking about this with momo and i haven't stopped thinking about sugu owning a museum and all that). OKAY AS I WAS TYPING THIS U REBLOGGED IT so i know u've seen that too but yk i wanna elaborate on that more bc i loved that idea and since i'm talking about it already HE DOES PAINT. 1000000% THERE'S A MASSIVEEE MASSIVE ROOM FOR JUST HIM AND HIS ART. in the mansion and in the museum. the room has big windows and he looooves to paint just when the moon lights up the room.... it's perfect for painting u.

aaaaaand i mean geto and gojo duo is something that needs a deep fucking study too................. like ur slowdancing idea????? it lives in my head. i don't think it'll ever leave if i'm being honest. anyway i think gojo is almost as infatuated with geto as he is with u. c'mon???? he's fucking ethereal how could he not be??? i think he follows geto around at the house a lot. he wants to know what he does at all times, just wants to know more about him (he wants to hold his hand)(he wants to play with his hair). geto definitely finds it annoying at first i think i already said that but yeah. but fret not he does come off it after a while. what if gojo asks him to teach him how to paint????? so he watches gojo do it, but when he needs help he steps right behind him, chest touching gojo's back, hand grasping over his, guiding along the canvas. do u think gojo is paying any fucking attention at this point?????????? fuck no i'm sorry but that man is popping a boner. anyway. gojo accidentally teaches him some dirty jokes - geto swears he doesn't even listen to him but the stupid one-liners just keep coming out of his mouth (a sign that he's spending a lot of time with his little bf)(he's trying to ignore that fact).

as for our little prince and our little knight - the next part is imminent i promise!! i know i said that last weekend too but it's definitely dropping this weekend lmao. we learn a bit about shoko's (and the knight's) childhood and finally our favourite duo gets to bond over some childish laughter. but only just for a moment though....

ANYWAY neighbor!maki is very much inspired by a scene from the movie bound (1996). maki and the reader have seen each other a few times in the hallway of their apartment complex but they haven't spoken - until the reader goes to ask her for help. and then they both understand how attracted they are to each other. no smut not even suggestive they're just kind of flirting it's cute. i literally have so little of it but i still love the idea so muchhhh i need to finish it maki deserves it i love her

prince!gojo (autumn)

he has also learned that shoko had a friend, who was ready to do anything for her and for others for that's sake. with a deep sigh, she confessed that she regretted not taking in the other kid. shoko was more quiet, more well-behaved in a sense but the other kid - they kept getting into fights with the knights of the castle. "i kept scolding them over it. but no, they just kept going. later i learned that all of those beatings and slashings were for other kids." her head hanged low as she spoke. "they kept taking the blame for the younger kids, so that they wouldn't get hurt. stole food, so that they wouldn't starve. i didn't know."

the prince nodded along, surprised to hear about this noble kid. "where are they now?" he asked in a whisper, a little scared to hear the answer.

"they left. around the time they were twelve, i think. shoko was miserable. brought me and her flowers and bread; the most polite troubled kid i ever saw." she sighed."i was stupid."

neighbor!maki

"hi!

"hi." your neighbor takes a second to look at you.

"s-sorry, i don't mean to impose but could i ask for your help?"

"with what?" she asks with a raised brow.

"um, my sink fucking broke. a-and i saw you with a toolbox the other day and i t-thought maybe you could help me? if not, that's totally fine."

+

"do i make you nervous, maki?"

"no."

she goes to grab the bottle from your hand, fingers brushing over yours.

"thirsty, maybe?"

"curious, maybe."

#WHEWWWWWWWWWWWW THIS GOT LONG SO RANDOMLY #damn i really can't stop can i smhhhhh #THANK YOU FOR ASKING ABOUT THESE ARI!!! #ALWAYS SO GOOD TO DISCUSS THEM WITH YOU #I CAN'T WAIT TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS #OKAY WAIT I'M SORRY IF UR NOT A SMOKER THOUGH #it's the role okay vampires smoke shoko smokes sugu smokes it looks hot #sue me #i also noticed that i keep switching between “the reader” and “you” idk if that's annoying or not u let me know #ari <3 #friends!! #wip game #mickey can't stop thinking

[eggdrawsthings]

Hi! Same anon here. I was asking about how to draw such expressive figures like your drawings. I noticed even when you were drawing a character standing still, it still looks so alive and dynamic. My drawings always ended up looking so stiff and out of balance. It's weird. Sorry for the trouble and thank you for your time 🥺🙏

Hey! Sorry about all of that. Again, I don't consider myself as someone worthy to ask advice from lol, but I'll try to mention whatever i can think of from the top of my head, so sorry if it's too random. Also, I actually answer sth similar here regarding my process of drawing poses.

You see, when standing still, we tend to shift to one side and put our weight either on the left or right foot, leaning more forward or backward. You want to have the weight shift happening in your drawing too. It makes the figure looks interesting, just by shifting weight to one side, tilting the shoulder a bit, or even twisting the body a little. I learn this from studying Brian Matyas's drawings. He always shifts the character to one side when he's drawing a relaxed standing pose. Also, notice how the shoulder and the hip are always tilted to the opposite side. That creates rhythm. It makes your body less symmetrical, gives it a sense of flow. thus making it more alive. (a trick when observing real-life people is to look to which side the belt is tilting down)

When your start drawing a pose, draw the action line first. Block out the pose by using boxes or the stick figure technique, whichever you prefer. By simplifying the figure down into line, shape, and form, you can easily see if the proportion of the figure is working or not, without being distracted by details like clothes and hair and stuff. The most common problem I saw is ppl focusing too much on the top half of the body or going into the details too quick, and when they start drawing the lower half, it looks off. Either the legs are too short, the action line is not strong enough, the character looks off balance, etc. So you always want to start by blocking out the pose and checking your proportion. The pose might look stiff at first, but you want to get comfortable with drawing the figure w the correct proportion before trying anything else. This applies to facial structures as well.

Also utilize the curve against straight, complex against simple. This again gives a sense of flow and contrast to the figure.

Draw from life. Bring a sketchbook with you. Draw when you are in the library, on the train, in the park, etc. Use references too. Keep a reference board, either on your phone, computer, or places like Pinterest. If you can't go out, drawing from videos is good too. Here are some studies I did from some pencak silat videos. It's much harder than drawing from life cos you cant really see the form and such, so I'd still recc going outside and draw when u can.

When u r drawing from life or videos, observe how people move, stand, sit, etc. Where is the weight distribution. What is the line of action here. How can you exaggerate it. Break it down into shapes. Draw what you see, not what you think you are seeing. Observation is key.

Flip your canvas, compare it to other masters' art, ask for critics, then fix it. Have fun, but also be critical of your art. If you want to, you can find books about figure drawing by masters like Andrew Loomis or George Bridgman. I love their books. Rmb you don't have to go to school to be good at art.

Again, my advice is very biased cos it's based on my own experience and observation. I don't see your art, so Idk what exactly you are having trouble with. But my ask box is always open so feel free to ask again or send me your stuff if you like. I'll try my best to help ^^

#thoughts in space #Anonymous #long post #very long post #art stuff

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Crimson Lady

Pairing(s): Sansa Stark x Bolton!Reader, Sansa Stark x Ramsay Bolton, Ramsay Bolton x Bolton!Reader

Warnings: dubious consent (please do not read this if you are sensitive to any of the warnings), implied r*p*, slight in*3st

Words: 2476

Summary:Sansa should have known better. Of course she'd be every part of a Bolton as her brother Ramsay was.

The young Lady Bolton was in many ways a lot like her father and brother. Her face was harsh, not to say it wasn’t any less lovely, but lovely in a cruel sort of way. Same ghostly pale eyes that were haunting yet oh so alluring. Sansa knew from whispers that (y/n) had been legitimized before her older brother Ramsay, something that Sansa thought would surely irk her new husband. This fact didn’t seem to bother Ramsay though. Actually, much to Sansa’s surprise, Ramsay adored his little sister even if she did get the honor of holding the house name Bolton rather than Snow as he did. Sansa had thought Ramsay incapable of such tender affection. He had certainly showed no kindness to her in such a way.

And (y/n)? Well, Sansa had learned well from Petyr Baelish not to trust anyone no matter how kind they outwardly appeared. How could she not trust her though? (y/n) was the only one to show her any kind of genuine warmth since arriving back to what she once called her home. And as much as Sansa wanted to hate the girl she couldn’t. It wasn’t her fault that her father had played a huge part in the murder of her mother and brother. (y/n) didn’t ask to be born a Bolton. In fact there was a time when it was just (y/n) and Sansa alone in the castle, Ramsay having gone off to hunt something or someone. Grudgingly Sansa had gone back to her hobby of needlework, so foreign to her now after all she had gone through. She wasn’t a little girl anymore and was out of practice. The two had gotten to talking of their history. Betrayals and heartaches that Sansa suffered in King’s Landing, (y/n)’s life before she became a legitimate daughter of Roose Bolton.

“I much preferred being a bastard.” (y/n) had confessed, pulling the needle with skilled fingers through the canvas. Already she had half of a red bird done.

Sansa remembers her own bastard brother that was now confined in the Brotherhood. “You didn’t feel ashamed?”

Her face scrunches up in indignation ad she sets her hoop on her lap, looking sternly at Sansa. Immediately Sansa regrets her question. “Shame for what? My father should be the one who’s ashamed. He’s the one who sired bastards and put a stain on his own name. Being legitimate has brought me no happiness. I was much more happier being a Snow. Back when it was just my brother and I.” As if stuck in her memory, her pale eyes shift to her hand that still held the needle and thread. “It was so much simpler back then. But Ramsay was never satisfied. Unlike me, he’s always wanted to have the name Bolton.”

The hound that was dozing at (y/n)’s feet let out a soft snore. It brought (y/n) back to the present and a bit embarrassed she returns to sewing.

“I’m sorry.” Sansa murmurs. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” A lot she had been taught about bastards was from her own mother. Bitter about having to raise another woman’s child, Catelyn Stark never cared for Jon Snow and would heavily criticize any bastard that came across her. She was bitter of what had happened between Ned and this unknown woman. Sansa felt shame for how she had treated Jon in their youth. She had taken too much of what her mother had said to heart. There was much truth in what (y/n) had said about not being any happier being a Bolton. Many times Sansa saw how solemn the young girl was if she were by herself. The only time she saw a spark of life on (y/n)’s face was when she was playing with her hounds and when she was with Ramsay.

She shrugs waving it off. “That’s alright. Many wouldn’t understand. I know there are a lot of bastards who would be happy to be legitimized. They live in poor circumstances. Not me though.” There’s a meloncholic quality to her tone. “I had everything I needed when I was a Snow.”

There was something about her sadness that Sansa found beautiful. Something in her raw emotions that captivated the Stark girl.

*

When you saw a bruise on Sansa’s cream skin, you knew what it was from. Knew who it was from. Anger flared up in you. You had left her in a quizzical state to go hunt down your brother. Of course you knew that Ramsay had to consummate his marriage with her. It was something you had to accept. She was a lovely girl and you didn’t blame him. What you did blame him for was harming her. You didn’t mind it when he got rough with you. The two of you enjoyed in rough intercourse. You reveled in your own bruises you got from fucking your brother. Loved how he completely dominated over you and made you his. But to do something like that to Sansa? Unforgivable. She didn’t ask for this. You knew it was rape. Ramsay knew it. Sansa knew it. And to make matters worse was that he was hurting her so much that he left signs of it on her beautiful skin. You couldn’t stop him from fucking her, it was expected from him; but you could at least stop him from doing it in such a painful way.

“Ramsay.”

Your voice, full of authority, had the other men around your brother jumping out of their skins. The clanging of metal stopped at your entrance into the training grounds. Now you knew you looked much like your father when you were angry as it made everyone uncomfortable to be in the same place as you.

Ramsay turns around, his smile full at the sight of you. “My sweet sister! Whatever is the matter?”

“I need to have a private word with you.”

“Surely it can wait. I’m in the middle of-”

You pull out a dagger from the sleeve of your dress, holding it by the blade tip, and throw it at your brother. It grazes his cheek and lands behind him in the hardwood wall of a neighboring stall. The men look aghast and even Ramsay loses his smile. No other person would dare do something like that to Ramsay, not if they valued their life at least.

“Now, brother.”

Ramsay clears his throat before following after you like a dog who had just been scold. People thought Ramsay was the cruel one. They had never seen your work.

You take him down to the dungeons of Winterfell, a place that had been hell for many and immediately you sense your brother’s hesitation.

“Come along brother.”

“Whatever this is about, (y/n), we can talk this through.” He refuses to take another step. “Or, did you have something more intimate in mind? Is it going to be that kind of session?” A lusty smirk twists his face.

You smile slyly. “Come with me and you’ll find out.”

One of two things could happen. The both of you knew this. Whenever Ramsay brought someone down here it was for torture. When you brought him down there it was for a mix of torture and pleasure.

Ramsay was willing to gamble on it. When he got close enough to you, you quickly sat him down in a chair and with lightning fast hands you tighten the restraints that were on the arms so that he couldn’t move. He was your’s now. Ramsay knew that by the looks of the concern finally flashing in his gaze to you.

He knew your switch had been turned on. You were in Bolton mode. Not sweet (y/n) Snow. No, that girl was dead for the moment.

“I saw bruises on Sansa’s beautiful skin. Skin that should never be damaged in such a barbaric manner unless she requests for it as I do.”

Your brother attempts to laugh it off. “Oh my darling sister. Are you jealous? You know I must produce an heir with-”

No one would’ve ever pictured your tiny hands capable of latching onto Ramsay’s jaw to snap it shut with such fury. “I’m not jealous. Do not interrupt me again or I’ll sew your mouth shut. What you are doing to her is not the same as between us. You are harming her against her will. I’ll sit quietly while you fuck her, but that is all you should be doing. Not hurting her in the process. Rut her and leave her be.” Your fingers tighten into the skin of his jaw. “If I find one more bruise on her-”

He hadn’t even been aware of where your other hand had been. It was pressing a knife dangerously to his crotch. “I’ll do to you what you did to Theon Greyjoy. Believe me, it’s the last thing I want to do since we both know how much I love your lower appendage. But I will protect that girl as much as possible. We’ve taken her home. Killed her family. And now you shame her more.” You back away and observe his face. “I at least won’t be a part of it.”

Ramsay’s breathing hard, eyes pinpoint with a mix of fear and arousal. Chest moving fast as he tries to collect himself. One emotion at a time. He would deal with fear first. “Very well, (y/n). I will treat her as a lady in the bed. But. . . can I still treat you as I do?”

“As long as I see you’re keeping your word.” You turn around and head back up the stairs.

“(y/n)! You’ve forgotten to untie me!”

“Figure it out yourself.” You call back.

*

Sansa didn’t know what was going on, but for the past couple of nights when Ramsay would visit her to consummate their union he wasn’t rough at all. In fact, he would just tell her to get naked and turn around. A few pumps later and he was done. No ramming into her mercilessly or anything of the sorts.

She was grateful of course, but confused as to why he would completely change.

Was it (y/n)? His sister had been very upset when she caught sight of her bruises. She had left in a fury and didn’t speak a word of it after that. Sansa couldn’t think of anything else. It had to be (y/n)’s doing.

That night Ramsay didn’t even visit her so Sansa had the night completely to herself without any fear of Ramsay dropping by.

How could they be so different? (y/n) was only a year younger than Ramsay; had the same mother and father. Everything yet she turned out so much more. . .

Sansa stopped in her embroidery, fingers in mid air holding onto her needle.

(y/n) was kind and lovely, sad and thoughtful; she was so many things.

It had been quite some time since she’d felt. . . attracted to someone. And it just so happened to be toward the same sex. The last time she had developed a crush was on Joffrey and gods did that go sour quickly. Was it her doom to be attracted to people that it would never work out with?

Oh but how (y/n) brightened her day up. Even she had admitted of the atrocities her father and brother have done and asked for Sansa’s forgiveness. (y/n) had nothing to apologize for on her behalf. If only the Bolton girl knew that without her Sansa would be in much worse shape than she was. (y/n) may not have been happy to be a Bolton, but Sansa was. She was glad that (y/n) was the person she was. That she was born into that family and met her. If she hadn’t been born a Bolton, Sansa would be all alone and suffering at Ramsay’s hands.

Normally Sansa never would have ventured out of her room at night. Even if Winterfell had once been her home, she couldn’t trust those who lurked there now. But she had to talk to (y/n) and ask her if it was truly her intervention that was stopping Ramsay from being brutal in their marital bed.

She feared being caught so she took no source of light and instead relied heavily on her memories of the castle to find her way to (y/n)’s chambers.

Outside of the door, before Sansa could even knock, she could already hear soft whimpers. Her hand stops, fingers curled as she was prepared to knock. It was still early in the night where not everyone was asleep. Still. . . It sounded like (y/n) was crying.

A lump developed in her throat. Should she intrude? Comfort her? How would she even go about comforting her? It had been a while since she ever gave comfort to anyone.

Unable to make up her mind there came another voice from the other side of the door. A muffled voice, but Sansa would know it from anywhere. Ice ran through her veins. Ramsay.

What was he doing to her?

Anger fueled Sansa to throw open the door. The sight that she met made her face grow deathly pale.

(y/n) was naked, bound by chains and blinded by silk over her eyes. Her body was arched so that her butt was sticking up in the air. There were vivid red streaks scattered from her back to her thighs, many were trickling with blood some were merely shallow welts. And there was Ramsay standing over her equally as stained with her blood. A whip in his hand and a crazed glint in his eyes. He too was naked, an erection prominent between his legs.

She was utterly speechless. Ramsay, however, was not.

“Ah dear wife, what are you doing up so late?”

(y/n)’s body freezes as her hands try desperately to get out of her binds to remove her blindfold. Ramsay drops his whip and rubs (y/n)’s cunt with his hand.

“Ssh, sweet sister. I’ll get back to you.”

“Wh. . .What are you doing to her?” Sansa didn’t know what else to say; what else to do. She felt freezing cold all of a sudden and the world around her seemed to distort unnaturally as Ramsay strides closer to her.

His grin scares her. Never before had it had an effect like that on her. Previously it had just annoyed her. But now. . . Now she didn’t know what to make of it.

Ramsay reaches the door, his hand on it prepared to close it. He leans forward enough so that his face is mere inches from Sansa’s. “I think you should go back to bed, wife.” Then he shuts the door leaving Sansa in the dark.

#game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfic #Game of Thrones fandom #got fanfiction #got fanfic #got fandom #got reader insert #asoiaf fandom #ASoIaF #asoiaf fanfiction #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf reader insert #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction

[coconut530]

Heyyyy everyone! I just wanted to take a bit to gush about the WT I’ve been binging the past three days, Not Even Bones!

I’d seen this WT on the Saturday page for y e a r s , but it never looked that appealing to me. Last week, I binged Silent Screams on Canvas, and learned that artist was on NEB as well. That, combined with my desire for a darker story, and the icon nagging me like Shiloh and Lavender Jack did, made me cave and start it.

Let’s start with the characters. Nita’s our protagonist, and she’s.. interesting to say the least. Most of the time I can see where she goes but there are some instances where I question the writing a bit. And though I do get squeamish over her.. hobbies, the story usually justifies it pretty well or Kovit manages to say something. Speaking of Kovit, you can see most of these images have him in it 😂. Uhh but I have to say he’s a really good character, despite what he does. In the end he only does it because of his nature and the society that enables him. But his design is cool across all three styles, he’s a caring guy, and the rules he poses for himself make the story really interesting. S2 was my favorite, I think for all of the things we found out about him. Next we have… Fabricio. I… truly don’t know what to think about this little dude. He’s a little annoying, for starters, bc he always escapes!! And his morals are grayer than a thundercloud! And I don’t know what he truly wants! But regardless, I think he’s a good foil character for Nita, forcing her to confront herself when she’s too far gone or giving her a goal to reach. That’s our main three, but I do want to give a couple shoutouts. Adair is like.. so fun. He gives those fun trickster vibes, and to me sounds like Josh Grelle. Diana is fun too, giving Nita a friend when Kovit isn’t there. Gold is a bit annoying sometimes, but I like how she brings out a different side of Kovit. Overall these characters are very interesting, and their designs in the latter seasons make it all look and feel so immersive and unique.

So, I started it. S1 was a little rough, since the story was new to me and I wasn’t a huuuuge fan of the art style. But the story was engaging enough and I think the art fit with the tone of the season, even if it wasn’t my favorite. Overall it was interesting to see this WT go deeper than the advertisements of simply “girl who’s mom finds supernatural creatures and she dissects them”. We actually learn more about those creatures and the hostile world they live in.

S2 was what I was really waiting for, since Glamist was the artist for that one. And BOY did it deliver! The story just got more engaging from there, with Kovit’s backstory coming up more and Nita getting more desperate, and Glamist’s art made it look soooooooo goooooood!!! What I really noticed in this season was the imagery that Glamist drew. You can see it in the panel above where Kovit is behind bars made out of money, MMMM so good. There’s more like that, which is a sticking point alone. And! Before this I’d only seen three WTs of mine have moving panels: Shiloh, Nevermore, and Time & Time Again. BUT now I can add this one to the list! The one where Adair was like “What have you done?” also moves, and it was so fluent and amazing. There’s another one where Kovit swings his knife around, and I was floored by that one. This season was so great with characters, story, and art, and it just makes me soooo excited to see Silent Screams come out as an Original.

I just caught up today with S3, and it is still so good. I was a teensy bit sad to see Glamist go, but Starpiper keeps that same style nearly to a T, the imagery is still so strong, and the panels still move from time to time. It is nice to see Nita and Kovit’s relationship still so strong in this season, even when Kovit is brought down to his worst. This season is still going on, so I don’t have tooooo much to say, but it’s been really good so far. Excited to read a new ep today.

Anyway, if you’re a fan of like Shiloh or Silent Screams and looking for another story like that to enjoy, check Not Even Bones out!

#Not Even Bones #Not Even Bones Webtoon #Webtoon #Gosh it’s so good #And I haven’t had anyone to talk to about it in real life so in here I go :) #Epic #Expect maybe some more drawings in the future bc that art style is MMMM

[44lh]

Since lewisbian said you're the expert on mclewis, what the hayl did they do to him?

Based on how he acted afterwards, I felt they locked him up in the garage and only let him out when it was time to race

?? when did ale say that 😭 but that is funny that they said that JSJSJSJSJ. putting this under a readmore bc this turned out way longer than i expected lololol

i mean tbh they all but did that 💀 mclaren was like military school, everyone had to have a buzz/crew cut, he had to wear the same exact outfit thursday to sunday. the first year especially was tough bc of the intrateam politics with alonso and who would be the #1 driver. they had prioritized alonso bc he had just dethroned schumacher and was the reigned wdc. that’s why you had things like pitstopgate at hungary 🗿 (vine boom sound). anyway they didn’t give him equal treatment until halfway through the season, and even then they let him rot in china while leading the championship, and he was out for so long that his tyres were literally worn down to the canvas. then he lost the title by one point 🗿 (vine boom x2).

he also talks about how mclaren made him feel like he was a square peg trying to fit into a round hole and it just felt suffocating. back then mcl did a lot of pr stuff that was straight up nonsensical 😭 this is why we rarely see staged lewis videos on merc socials unlike other teams where he’s not just... sitting down and talking. anyway not saying mclaren was the devil incarnate for this, but it was just something that happened and lewis didnt like it, especially because they would just not let him do Anything Else. nowadays he talks about how “distractions” (putting that in quotation marks bc i dont think what he does in his offtime qualifies as distractions) are vital to his success. plus, it helped that he was signing for a younger team and he already had a world championship under his belt to allow him more freedom with his move to merc. mclaren was very different from the ~papaya~ team they are now.

and anyway this is all paired with the fact that mclaren was a dumpster fire on wheels heading towards a cliff. i guess hindsight is 20/20, but it is so easy for me to look back on the 2012 season and see why lewis would want to leave. like turrible pitstops, god awful strategies and approx 54 different mechanical issues in a single race... imagine dealing with all that and still having to get your hair buzzed at kuts r mclaren.

then there was the fact that he grew up with mclaren. i think he joined the mcl driver programme when he was like. 13? he might’ve been the first driver of that program ever. anyway yeah i think he said he just needed space to grow and he didn’t think he’d grow at mclaren where he felt he was perpetually 22 in their eyes. he wanted a team where he could be a leader and he felt like that wasn’t at there.

despite this, mclewis will always always hold a special place in my heart ! there really was just something so romantic about the absolute joy in his face for the 2007, 08 and even the 09 seasons. his happiness was so tangible. and as lewis said, you never forget your first!!! 😣💔

#mp4-22... you're my only ho. #also want to clarify that i am not an express. don't even think i knew how to read in 2007 #EXPERT

[potterandpromises]

sorry for not winning you an arcade ring: chapter 6

Mabel and Theo’s art gallery date get together. [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5]

Also on AO3

(Picks up one day after the last chapter, in the evening.)

At the gallery, the staring is no worse then it was right after all the Bloody Mabel crap.

Low murmurs hush as her and Theo pass and, absurdly, she worries if anyone guesses this whole engagement is a sham. They aren't holding hands. They definitely didn't great each other with a kiss at the door. Nothing, they agreed, was needed to sell the relationship, because no one would ever do what they're doing now. At worst, people will sense something is off and assume they're in a fight or unhappy together.

(At worst, people will know they’re bad for each other.)

For some promotion or other, someone gives them each a glass of champagne, which strikes Mabel as shortsighted given they're in a building full of easily harmed works of art. But, what does she know.

She downs hers. Theo takes a tiny sip of his— possibly even a stage sip— and hands it off to her.

They wonder down the hall, stiff and awkward under the attention. Next to Theo in his burgundy sweater, Mabel feels highly overdressed in her aunt's clothes.

Something catches Theo's gaze, and she follows it to a large canvas, painted with varied shades of violet, magenta, midnight blue. They're barely blended, split like a cracked galaxy.

She catches his eye. “When I was little," he signs, "my dad would tell me: ‘Theo, if you keep looking down— you’re going to get robbed.’”

By his playful smile, it's a joke. She does not find it funny. "Looking at what?"

"S-I-D-E-W-A-L-K," he fingerspells, "C-R-A-C-K-S."

"Oh." It's curious, how she saw the sky and he saw the ground. "Show me?"

It repeats it slowly. "Sidewalk."

"Sidewalk." The flapping motion is as fun as it looks, though somewhat dampened by the middle-aged women to Mabel's right openly staring at them. "And, C-X-A-C-K?"

Theo smiles, like she's done something wrong but she sure is cute about it

She frowns. "What did I do?"

He reaches out, takes her hand in his. Gently, he turns her palm skywerd, and traces an R into her skin. Heat flushes through her, settles low.

"R," he signs, and still holds her other hand. It takes her several seconds longer then it should to realize it is not what she just signed. "You signed" —he traces an X into her too receptive palm— "X."

She nods, throat dry.

"C-R-A-C-K," he continues. "Crack."

"Crack."

"Crack."

Mabel makes eye contact with the staring women, makes her look away.

She turns back to Theo.

"How..." She meant to ask sooner, had wanted to. But when she heard about the sentencing, she couldn’t decide if she was the last person on earth he’d want to see or the only one who’d ask. And besides, she didn't have his phone number. She thought about showing up anyway, his coat tucked under her arm. Of course, she hadn't.

She isn't sure she should ask now, if she should touch the nerve. If it were entirely off limits, though, she figures he wouldn't have mentioned his dad in the first place.

“How are you doing since…” she doesn't have the right signs for 'prison sentence' and lets her hands hover, turn like a visual throat clearing, "with your dad."

Theo stiffens. Neither of them say anything, although not for lack of wanting. The seconds stretch, hang out in the air between them.

"We talk sometimes, and it's fine. I know he loves me," he leans into the word 'love' like a hug, "but I think prison might be the right amount of distance for us."

She has no idea how to respond to that; in sign, out load, over text message, on paper. Her father's absence pricks like a half healed wound most days. She can't imagine needing him to be removed from society, gone.

Someone clears their throat. Loudly.

It's the same women from earlier. Mabel gives her the stink eye as they collect their glasses and shuffle away.

The gallery has a few benches, but she's genuinely unsure if they are in fact serviceable pieces of furniture and not art that should really be roped off. They find an unoccupied corner, sit on the floor instead. She finishes Theo’s champagne.

He holds her gaze. “I spent whole years just waiting for something to change.”

She nods. “Me too.”

Sort of. Theo had waited for the other shoe to drop. Mabel had waited to feel better, to feel like the past was actually past, without entirely wanting it to. She’d waited for Tim to have a change of heart, to confess what he saw.

Theo pulls out his phone and begins to type.

Across the room, a couple, both about 30 years old, share a kiss under a portrait of a Cocker Spaniel balancing an apple on it's head. Are their lives secretly as complicated as hers and Theo's are? For their sakes, she hopes not. She hopes their lives are as easy as they look tonight, and that they have a dog just like that one.

Theo hands her his phone. It's open to the notes app; one paragraph.

I never wanted to go to jail (shocker.) But I want you to know that I did feel bad for Oscar and at times I did want to confess. There was no way to implicate myself without implicating my dad, for threatening Tim and probably for everything else. I could never do that, but I always believed we’d be caught eventually (he didn’t.) It was a relief in a way, not to have to hide everything all the time. I just never thought he'd be punished and I'd basically get away with it.

Mabel looks over at Theo's shoes, his nice shoes, ankle devoid of a monitor.

"We were children," she signs. 'Kid' is something else, but she can't remember what.

"Yeah."

"He wasn't."

"Yeah."

He looks down, keeps her in his sight line. She turns half her attention to the meandering gallery patrons and accidentally makes eye contact with an older man in a fur coat. They both look away.

Theo leans against the wall, one leg outstretched in their little alcove, the other a curved arch where he rests one hand. She'll paint him again, just like this. It's only a matter of time.

She taps his knee. "We can leave, if you want.”

He shakes his head. “Only if you want to."

"No." She doesn't. She wants to stay with him.

He leans forward, pears around the corner at the current of people and the walls patterned with canvases. "Show me something interesting?"

He'd liked that abstract painting, so they get up and she looks for abstract, wonders absently if the hotel artwork in his apartment is by preference or if it just came with the place.

She touches his shoulder. "What about with W-I-L-L?"

"It's better." She can't tell if he means his relationship with Will is better then with his dad, or if he just means it's better then it was.

"We've texted a little. Neither of us really know what to say to each other." At random, they stop in front of a black and white something-or-other. "But we both want to try."

She nods. It's not an insignificant decision, to try.

“Thoughts?" She gestures at the painting.

He considers it, smirks. “I see dead people.” 

A smile pulls at her lips. She narrows her eyes.

“You might not like it,” he leans in conspiratorially, just far enough away that he can still sign, “but that joke would have killed at mortuary school.“

There’s a teasing glint in his blue, blue eyes, and laughter bubbles in Mabel’s chest despite herself. “That’s not a good joke, just so you know.”

He flashes a lopsided grin, and Mabel wants him. Stupid jokes, complicated family, and all.

Tonight, she has him.

The gallery is full of weird beautiful things and some other winery is giving out more free samples. A few people try to ruin it all with their stupid questions but she doesn't let them. It's real, whatever her and Theo have, even if it's only real to them.

Even if it only exists for a few more days.

#only murders in the building #omitb #mabel mora #theo dimas #fanfiction #my fanfic tag #fic: sorry for not winning you an arcade ring #theobel

[jeonqkooks]

Spill it babe pls 😣

keep in mind that this is very unedited so it will likely be a bit different when u see it in obs5! but yeah i feel like this is the first time that obs gets Angsty y'know 👀 anyway here it is and i'm gonna run away

You’ve been feeling it for days now. Time stretches on like months and years, but in reality, it hasn’t even been a week. Every cell in your body is constantly vibrating, with anxiety, with guilt, with a heaviness that sinks into your bones. You’re shaking even when your hands are perfectly still. People, memories, thoughts you keep only to yourself – they all phase through you, not giving you a single moment to catch your breath.

When it rains, it pours.

Why does it have to happen now?

Everything is weighing you down like someone has tied you to an anchor and pushed you into the unrelenting, unforgiving water. Grief is an ocean and you don’t know how to swim. Your job, your friends, the unbridled mess that you call a love life… Everything is changing and you’re the same. You’re different, but somehow still the same. Deep down, you’re still that scared little girl who doesn’t know what to make of the world. Your knees are bleeding but your mother is telling you not to cry. Why can’t you cry when you’re hurting? Every minute feels like a lifetime but every day feels like it’s going by in two seconds. Things are moving so fast. Things are moving too slow. You can’t remember the last time you actually cried. Really cried. Bawled. Sobbed. Let out all the dirt until you can see your roots again. Until you originate back to being a blank canvas. Sometimes it feels like that’s the only way that can help you see things more clearly. Your vision might blur for a while but afterward, it’ll have washed everything away. At least a little bit. So you can get your footing again.

You miss feeling like you matter. You miss looking out the window and have something to look forward to, even on overcast days where the sun can’t be bothered to bring you light. You miss hearing your heart beat a melody that doesn’t ache, doesn’t rattle you to the core. Pieces of you have been held together by nothing but tape and glue for the longest time. Eventually, they’ll deteriorate, and you’ll go back to being skin and bones always on the verge of falling apart.

Some of your best writing was never meant for anybody to hear. The best lines that you’ve scribbled down are diary entries disguised as music, as poetry. They’re results of your lowest and weakest moments, it just happens that there was a journal lying around and you thought that if you had to keep all that sadness inside for a second longer, you would burst. Those immortalized lines represent your heartbreak, your self-hatred, your sorrow and your grief. They come from a lifetime of unshed tears, from the burden of having a heart that feels too much but is always silenced. Words are your escape when time rushes through you like a child skipping stones. Everything hurts all the time but no one knows and you don’t bother explaining to anyone how you wish you could be a different person living a different life because it seems like the universe has made a mistake with this one. How it feels like a divine power has miscalculated and misread your false stoicism as resilience. Just because a person carries it well doesn’t mean they have to carry it at all. 

Sometimes you like to muse that if anyone could catch a glimpse of what it’s like inside, they’d think, Wow. How are you holding all of that weight? How are you so silent through it all? How do you live with an ache so all-consuming that I can hardly see you underneath it? It’s the only way you know how to express yourself. But even then, when you’re screaming and burning, you’re still quiet. Those words are your heart on paper, raw and bleeding all over the place, covered in a million cracks that no one can see or even pay enough attention to notice. They’re there whether anybody likes it or not. They’re right there, red ink staining white pages, begging in a voice small like a child asking for love. Please see me. I’m here. Nobody taught me how to swim. Please see me.

#ok maybe it was just me who thought this was angsty #but idc she drained tf outta me 💀 #the lines that i'm most proud are connected but there's a whole chunk of other stuff in between #so that's why i had to post this whole thing #anyway here are my guts kbye #fic: our beloved summer #anon #answered

[fictionfixations]

everything i said about r/place (and my thoughts)

sobbb im on r/place and so theres like. shego from kim possible (i think) that people were drawing but then other ppl who were horny decided 'i want to see her naked on this public canvas' and they got overrun?? i mean like if you want porn of characters then ok but do it in private, away from public areas??. isnt kim possible like a kids show?? and its horribly disrespectful to the fans and probably literally any innocent person stumbling upon it because its PUBLIC, or like maybe even streamers (as much as they suck because some have been targeting innocent fandoms like genshin?? IT WAS SO PRETTY and now its covered) getting in trouble because its getting so detailed now its dumb ughhh ^^ future add on to this. dude she wasnt gone they made a smaller one. and i found it by accident because i was looking at the oshi no ko contributions and nearby it was HER. undressed. SOB

(of a question about what people on r/place think of streamers) I don't really like streamers on r/place, it seems like everytime they're mentioned it's in a negative context because they sent their fans to ruin other peoples stuff. I mean I enjoy them as entertainment and stuff, but I never like it when they attack others. And as a person whose committed so much time and effort to build a corner with my community, seeing others just attack it for seemingly no reason (or even them just targeting memorials because they can.. extreme but it has happened. today.) is painful, it hurts and it really sucks because all that effort goes down the drain, and if you don't have a template then you're screwed. It just sucks that streamers tend to be the ones who cause a lot of destruction for their own gain, and on the way stomp on a lot of other people's care and joy. And the only streamers who probably do good, carving out their own corner just like us and not actually harming anyone are probably never heard of because they don't do anything. It sucks that we notice the negative more then the good, but what can you do?

i have a lot of pent up anger still on r/place but like. DUDE. fucking. xqc??? like okay, he's gonna void everything, so what (at least its not near omori thank fuck. also he failed) but then hes targeting memorials??. and im genuinely so pissed right now what the hell he targeted the turkey flag (which i don't really care about that much? its stupid how many flags are taking up so much space on the canvas), unknowingly ruined ataturks memorial on the flag (he called it a temple. which, yeah. okay. you couldnt really tell unless you knew but it was still a memorial? and yeah ataturk is apparently controversial but still?) and then there was lola (...a twelve year old.) on the french flag. he KNEW about it and still ruined it, and then when ppl went against him was going on and on about how there was already a memorial, that it would be shown on like the timelapses and stuff and it wouldnt be permanent anyway, comparing it to like, his grandpa, and put a single black pixel down as a 'memorial'. and then when someone got rid of it went about how we were the same? like. there are always disrespectful and rude people, you cant just believe that a single persons action equal to everyone elses, because there will always be someone who acts out. and also what the hell? i genuinely feel so disrespected on behalf of everyone rn just ughhh

my ranting tends to be negative often but r/place was really fun, and im not active a lot with other servers, but i was sucked into it by the omori discord, and it was generally really fun. even if everytime i woke up, it was to a shit ton of pings that lagged out my laptop

i saved photos of the omori stuff i contributed to (otherwise, i placed a few pixels here and there. Like for everything xqc attacked, for the shego thing which i was just placing a green pixel? stayed far away from the exposed areas. a few pixels for oshi no ko, yttd, LVJY, genshin although genshin was screwed over so many times and i didnt have the template)

theres the picnic ofc but i wasnt there at the beginning, only after the picnic was done and after neutral omori was there. but i was there when we took it down and made gunomori YEAHHH with omori theres also the.. thing. something. i cant remember i think it was something but who knows. i didnt have the template though, i tried to download it but i think i screwed it up and couldnt be bothered, so i mainly put myself in the duty of fixing any errors that didnt fit the template (i had a tab with the template) it was my first time doing anything at r/place at all, and i didnt pay much attention to any content before then because it just didnt interest me. but man, i took a leap, and it was FUN. even if it genuinely annoyed me so bad when we got griefed

#r/place #thoughts #stuff #random stuff #reddit

[soulmatelessthoughts]

Fireflies request!

Kazuha x Fem reader

Strangers to slightly less strangers, falling in love with a stranger(K), slight angst, slight fluff, realization of falling in love (K), painter reader

____________________________________________

Prompts!! : Star gazing, Singing (R),Playing the zither (K) Well, I prefer like meeting cuz one was singing and gets close like that, (i unfortunately couldnt get to the part where u get close to kazuha)

Note : all of it is in kazuhas pfp and the request was more of a self insert than a generalized y/n / reader

The stars remind me of you

he sat on top of the tree listening to the melody, he wondered how someone could have a voice like that. he grabbed his zither and played as the voice sang

it might've been his imagination but the singing seemed to have much more emotion in them now that he has joined he played and played following the melody of the voice he came here to rest but chose not to when he heard the singing

why would someone throw away the chance to hear someone sing this beautifully that was what he had thought that day he never expected to be doing the same thing every night for weeks he learned to enjoy it, he had not a single clue who was singing or why they were singing.

he had just been glad to have someone else enjoy the music that he made

weeks of doing that it ended up being a habit for him to just go to the tree he always goes to and play the zither there whether the person would've already been singing by then or he had arrived before they did which usually doesn't happen but he doesn't complain as they have always ended up going there

but suddenly one day after hours of waiting they didnt arrive. he wondered why have they finally found him creepy?

the next day he waited but this time he didnt stop walking until he was beside the river he waited and waited no one came...

he sat beside the river as he stared at the sky wondering was this what they always see whenever they were there singing with him?

if so it was a beautiful sight.

it would even be more beautiful if they were there beside him

he started wondering whether the person would be as pretty as the stars, a small smile landed on his face as he imagined them singing under the beautiful starry sky beside him as he played

he stared longer having another reason for wanting to meet them

then he waited again the next day and the day after and the day after that was until a week passed and still no one, he wondered why he was so affected by a person he didnt knows not coming, had he fallen in love with the person? how could he that would be utterly foolish

falling in love?

and even worse with a person he didnt knows

and again similar to what he did the other day and the six days before that he sat beside the river while holding his zither but now he has conflicted feelings, he wasn't sure what he exactly felt but one thing he was sure at, that the feelings he had for whoever the person is cannot be verified unless he meets the person himself

stopping himself from being too lost in his thoughts he shakes his head and sighs but perks up once again after he hears distant footsteps they seemed to be rushed? could it be them? he stood up not knowing what to feel but after a few seconds they stood face to face with a person

he didnt knows how or why but it felt like she was the person he had been waiting for, she was carrying a paint stand a canvas and a painting set he looks at her face to see she had a look of surprise and confusion, to him he saw the stars in her eyes

then she looked at him then glanced at the zither beside him then nodded implicating that he could play if he wanted, doing just that he played following the melody she had started letting her take the lead on the melody. he looked at the smile that had gracefully made its way to her face her smile was one of the brightest he had seen and is the prettiest, he stared at her like she was the most beautiful thing in the whole entire world. well to him she probably was

____________________________________________

Afternote : There was supposed to be more they were supposed to like dance with each other and star gaze but like i thought abt it then i was like yeah no its gonna take longer and its gonna much more harder if i add those cuz her monologue and her reactions ive asked her abt and like had to just be talking to her while i write which is a bit hard considering i write at night and we have a 4 hr difference

Firefly asked for this to be wholesome but angst being my beloved ofc there was a draft on where the girl real actually because like kazuha got so overworked because thats how he copes with tomo being dead and the week that the girl wasnt there was actually just beido taking away his weed for a week

#genshin impact #genshin impact x fem!reader #genshin impact fic #kazuha genshin impact #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha #kazuha x fem!reader #soul's writting

[creativeenquiryrhianna]

Critical Review

This project has led me down a path I had not expected myself to enjoy, one of which I feel will encourage me to continue exploring and researching. As someone who has been described as quite literal, their art leaning to the easily readable with straight forward intentions, I have found myself dipping into the conceptual avenue. Asking myself to look beyond the physical and experience the idea for more than just a starting point. Taking the picture from the frame and asking, which is more important, is it, and why?

‘However, the frame is still considered secondary to their work of art. A simple reason that the frame is given a lower status to the painting, is because at the end of the day, it is a utilitarian object. Regardless of other implications, the frame’s main function is to protect and preserve the artwork.’ (Kapczynski, I. (2019)) Having read this piece Artist Frames: A Lost History Tracking the Innovations of Discarded Visions by Isabella Kapczynski, I wandered through the exhibitions, finding myself scrutinising the frames rather than the pieces themselves. Seeing the carvings, the paint, dirt build up, was all so important to me that I felt I could not look away. Seeing the varying uses of the frames and how the artist could incorporate it into their work, for example, some continued to paint onto the frame as they did with the canvas, making the frame less of a border and more of a textural enhancement. Or those who used more than pone frame, prompting the questions of when did the art finish and the frame begin? This is exactly what I was looking for to find inspiration on where to go with my work into the unknown category to me of conceptualism.

To dive into this, I had to think about what the frame was providing for me. For me to do that, I decided to take it apart, by doing so I was getting personal with the frames, learning about the varied materials, details, forms, and sizes, as well as how they are treated and change overtime. Continuing to use discarded/second-hand materials, I collected my frames from charity shops. Seeing how they vary from brand new and tarnished, even smashed. At first, I enjoyed this, seeing a plethora of choice in my local area, however over time there seemed to be less and less. This then became a challenge, one I had to keep on top on to make sure I could fund my collection and research. Turning to friends and family for any collections they may have and not need, I managed to stay afloat. When I first started this project, I would never have guessed this was what I could come to. I often do not care for what my art is made on, or how it is displayed, focusing more on the imagery itself and the relationship with the audience. However, with talking to lecturers and eager to breach my bubble of comfort, I branched out into conceptualism. Conceptualism within art is a movement from the 1960s, which took off between 1960’s and 1970’s. The movement encouraged that the meaning behind the piece is of higher importance than its physical form. (Tate (no date) Conceptual art, Tate.) I put my collage to one side for a brief moment and plugged into this new pool of possibilities.

Making collages feels natural to me, playing with different materials and combining them for contrast and compliment I could sit with glee for days unblinking. I owe this passion to Hannah Höch, who’s pioneering within political collage material inspired me to pursue the same methods. Höch was born in Germany, but her work created during her career has touched hearts and minds across the globe. Höch declared that anything could be used within collage; “There are no limits to the materials available for pictorial collages—above all they can be found in photography, but also in writing and printed matter, even in waste products.” (Seiferle, R. (2020)) This encouraged me to be more liberal with the materials I use, letting go of my ego and using items I would have normally discarded, such as cardboard, sweetie wrappers, packing paper, carrier bags, clothing tags, string and more. Using these to find inspiration and add depth to my work, I feel a sense of success and glee, like a child gluing cheerios’ to craft paper. It was speaking to me, a younger and more vulnerable version.

Since I was wading in new waters, I looked for guidance from lecturers, who directed me towards Martin Creed, particularly his stacking chairs and deconstructive pieces. This led me to investigate deconstructing my collages, and instead see them for what the individual pieces are. Not tools, but art. Developing this I began to strip down the picture frames into four piles; the frame, the metal turn buttons, glass and the stand/back piece. Seeing it for the pieces they are, what it takes to make a frame, a collage within itself just comprised into something that can be used, rather than for pure aesthetics. Could everything be described as a collage? I suppose it is arguable, if we used the basic definition of it; “COUNTABLE NOUN [usually NOUN of noun] You can refer to something that has been made by combining a number of very different things as a collage of a particular kind”. (Collins English dictionary (no date)) This is something I feel strongly about and can feel myself continuing to explore longer after the end of this project.

Compiling these piles of rubble into their individual sections of glory, I decided to try different methods with them. The towers of wooden frames I glued together with nail glue, something I found accidentally to work well with a range of materials (i.e., spilling it accidentally), it would dry quickly, invisibly, and held strong. The back support/stand and buttons I felt would look best loose, especially the buttons, allowing the viewer to touch if they felt the need. Touching is an important part of interacting in general, and I feel frames can often take away that personal connection, with the partition between I and the piece. The back/stands would be left askew among the ground, no longer used for support to hang, or hold the piece up, but contrastingly left to lie, with nothing to hold it up. With help from a lecturer, I was taken to the glass floor of my college where we cleaned the glass and arranged them into towers replicating that of the frames. Leaving them in the kiln, they melted down into an almost squishy, jelly like structures. This was a fantastic contrast to the glasses scary edges which threaten to shred who dare touch, now rendered smooth and friendly. Altogether, it looked more like a factory out of business than a usual exhibition. I was delighted.

They look fragile, but are strong and reliable, referring nicely to my collages which include dried flowers, as with a blow of the wind they move and sway yet stay strong where they are. Martin Creed wrote within his essay Paragraphs on Conceptual Art written in 1967, “When an artist uses a conceptual form of art, it means that all the planning and decisions are made beforehand, and the execution is a perfunctory affair.” (Nowakowska, Z. (2023)) Thus, inspiring him to create art where the meaning, influence and desire hidden within the art is more important than the physical. This is proved further on when he comments “the idea becomes the machine that makes the art” (Nowakowska, Z. (2023)). I have rendered these frames unusable in my process, pulling them apart. They no longer hold my art but have become it themselves.

Visiting exhibitions, I was able to explore how artists before me used frames. The craftmanship was incredible, to think how they used to be sacred and used for the most important imagery (primarily the church), now machine made and sold at cheap prices globally. The most notable detail being they are often not made by hand. The frames used to be apart of the art, coming together to compliment and blossom together. (Rogers, M. (no date)) However now, they are merely used to hold art, photography, mementos etc. Originally it was the Egyptians and Greeks who came up with using these borders, with the earliest frames dating back to 50-70 AD. Within the 12th and 13th centuries, frames developed into being a handcrafted passion, used as décor to boost the appearance of its contents. Shifting over time, instead of the art being made to fit the frame, the art is made, and the frame is second thought. (Rogers, M. (no date))

I wanted to show this personal development, which may not be obvious to an audience. From beginning with partly literal collages, pertaining to the concept of beauty and growth. From which the frames begin to disembark from the collage pieces, ending in piles of frames, glass, and metal turn buttons. For the viewer, I personally would read such a piece as being the de-escalation of creation. The de-evolution of the pieces. Contrastingly, to me, it is my evolution. It is my rendition of how I have grown over the past year, breaking through a boundary I have tiptoed around for as long as I can remember. Being able to create something conceptual, was a struggle I needed to tackle to blossom. The closer we got to install, the more excited I became. I do not think I have answered my original queries of which is more important, or why, but I suppose it will take longer than one project to digest and confirm. As though I was finally proving myself to be a proper artist, whatever that truly means I am not sure, but I could feel it. And that is enough for now.

Bibliography:

Collins English dictionary (no date) Collins Dictionary. Available at: https://www.collinsdictionary.com/dictionary/english/collage  (Accessed: 19 April 2024).

Kapczynski, I. (2019) Artist Frames: A Lost History Tracking the Innovations of Discarded Visions, Digital Commons. Available at: https://digitalcommons.sia.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1019&context=stu_theses#:~:text=However%2C%20the%20frame%20is%20still,protect%20and%20preserve%20the%20artwork. (Accessed: 21 March 2024).

Nowakowska, Z. (2023) Sol LeWitt - why is this art!?, The Art Story Blog. Available at: https://www.theartstory.org/blog/sol-lewitt-why-is-this-art/#:~:text=In%201967%2C%20in%20his%20essay,craftsman%2C%20he%20decided%20to%20approach  (Accessed: 19 April 2024).

Orley, H. (no date) Hannah Höch , Moma. Available at: https://www.moma.org/artists/2675  (Accessed: 19 April 2024).

Rogers, M. (no date) A brief history of picture frames, Frame Destination. Available at: https://www.framedestination.com/blog/picture-frames/a-brief-history-of-picture-frames  (Accessed: 11 February 2024).

Seiferle, R. (2020) Collage Definition Overview and Analysis, The Art Story. Available at: https://www.theartstory.org/definition/collage/#:~:text=H%C3%B6ch%20created%20photomontages%20for%20the,oeuvre%20challenged%20%22the%20racist%20and  (Accessed: 12 April 2024).

Tate (no date) Conceptual art, Tate. Available at: https://www.tate.org.uk/art/art-terms/c/conceptual-art#:~:text=Conceptual%20art%20is%20art%20for,1960s%20to%20the%20mid%2D1970s.  (Accessed: 19 April 2024).