#have we done this angle/rotation yet? probably by this point

[yrsonpurpose]

“C’mere,” he says, surging up to kiss Alex, and he’s putting his whole body into it now, sliding his hands down to palm at Alex’s ass as he kisses him. Alex feels a sound tear itself from his throat, and he’s following Henry’s lead blindly now, kissing him deep into the mattress, riding a continuous wave of Henry’s body.

#rwrb #rwrbedit #red white and royal blue #firstprince #alex x henry #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #userninz #userveronika #usersteen #usernuria #chrissiewatts #usermaloune #mine* #have we done this angle/rotation yet? probably by this point #but what is one more among friends #anyway i was in the middle of another set & got *waves hands* distracted #i sometimes wonder if the teeth were intentional but bc its literally canon i think who even cares #its henry chasing alex in the last gif for me #once matthew said this was henrys first time with someone he had real feelings for... i was Changed #like you could probably work that out by yourself but KNOWING it for sure hm. makes the campfire and lake sequence a lot heavier #'casual' okay. you're a lying liar who lies.

[h3rmitsunited]

First Impressions of LOZ: Tears of the Kingdom - First ~10 hours

I've played for three days and here's my thoughts on how it's been so far (could be a bit more than 10 hours, but I haven't been keeping track and the Switch doesn't show you total hours until after the first like 10 days).

Spoilers below the read more!

• First of all, it's pretty fun so far. It is feeling a bit like a (massive) expansion to the first game, but there is like so much new stuff, even if it is the same world, and it's fun to run around and see the things that have changed and the new things in the world.

• The intro just really shoves you right into it and the opening clips were like so eerie and the music was creeping me out, but I liked it a lot. I'm like I don't know what the heck is happening, but it's fun and new and more LOZ yay!

• I think the "tutorial" section was done pretty well. It did feel a bit like, oh this is Great Plateau part 2, but I didn't feel like it dragged on and I like the new mechanics so far.

• The Ultrahand is like magnesis on crack, and it can be a little tricky maneuvering things and trying to battle the camera (especially when you make very large things). I made a long bridge across a large gap and it was a bit of a pain trying to angle and see if it was long enough and rotate it just right to get it in the right spot. 

• I totally screwed myself up getting to the Ascend shrine in the snow area and it led to my first death of the game and I felt so dumb lol. I got up to the part right below where the shrine is and the cliff sides are icy so it's like oh you can't climb, you slide down, and there's a patch of trees right by that, and my dumb brain is like... oh darn, guess we can't go up right here, we must need to keep moving around the area to get to the other side where you can get up to the top. I'd gone through the cave, so there was the whole other side of the snow area with the little fan boats and the waterfalls, so I went down from the top, down past the waterfalls to where the boats were and was like... wait... this seems... incorrect. And then I struggled so dang much getting back up the stupid side of the mountain. The first death was because I jumped into the water and the construct had said something about the water draining stamina, so I'd thought, oh, okay, that must mean that it doesn't hurt you immediately, it just makes your stamina drain fast, so I should be okay to swim this tiny bit more. I was not. It killed me so fast. I did eventually make it back up, but it probably added another like half hour to getting to that shrine.

• Ascend is cool and it obviously doesn't work everywhere, but it's fun where it does work and I like the animation and Link popping up out of the ground like a little prairie dog.

• Fuse is interesting, but I think I haven't used it enough to really wrap my brain around it. Like I like silly weird weapons with rocks and wheels and long sticks attached to them, but I'm still like, okay but how do I make good weapon that doesn't look insane. And also there's like so many things and weapons and the slot limit is low and I hate using the good stuff but I just gotta get over my hoarding tendencies because like stuff is everywhere.

• Reverse seems like it'll be the cryo of the abilities, where it's very situational and otherwise you don't think about it. I haven't really used it yet on the surface, so I'll  have to mess around with it more at some point and see what I can get it to do.

• I've gotten through a few main mission things, primarily getting to the surface, talking to Purah, going to the castle ruins, and going to Rito Village to talk with the people there, but I've found that I'm more interested right now in seeing all the new stuff and just riding around the map.

• Speaking of riding around the map, it's fun that it pulls your horses out of your old save data from BOTW. Along with their like mane decorations and stuff, even if it's not unlocked in this save, so now I have my pretty flowered mane horse from my old game.

• The little tunnels in the wells are fun. I haven't explored that many of them, but it's cool to go in and use the ascend feature to just pop back up out of the ground. You're in there like oh man I've got to run all the way back to the ladder and climb back out and then remember oh shit! No I don't! And then just burrow up out of the ground.

• I feel like the hardest thing is trying to keep from just making as much stamina food as I can and then just flying to every location on the map instead of like exploring on the ground. I'm like oh well, I don't have to fight my way through all that, I'll just pop up to that sky shrine and then fly for seven minutes and eat every stamina meal and now I'm where I wanted to be. It is still interesting, and I think I like that you can do that because I feel like I'd be driving myself crazy just trying to zoom all over the map to see the stuff I wanted to see. I guess I just long for that feeling in the first game when you were discovering the whole world and seeing the stuff as you go rather than I know where everything is and now I'm just flying to stuff because I can. But I mean, I guess it makes sense because Link would be familiar with the world already and he isn't the amnesiac that doesn't know anything about Hyrule, so we're going into it the same way with the same info.

• I'm hoping that there will be clips in the game like the memories in the original game, I loved getting to see the interactions between Link and Zelda and the brief moments we've had so far in the game leave me wanting more.

• (This has all been spoilers, but seriously spoilers because this is so special to find on your own) Hateno Village and the Zelda of it all. I started the game and I was like... I need to see the house, there's gotta be something there. And let me tell you I pulled up to the gate and the whole like clothes thing and mushroom and nobody knew who Link was and I was like... oh no, what is there nothing, and then I head over towards the house and see the little girl that's like when's ms. Zelda coming back and my heart. Zelda was living in Link's house in Hateno and all the little bits and pieces in the house, the pictures and her journal about starting the school and teaching the kids. And then the secret well lab with all the frogs! And Link's hair band being in the chest down there and her diary entry about how she's been busy and going to help and Link has been by her side the whole time and neglecting his own clothes and his Champion's tunic was all ratty so she commissioned a new tunic and was going to give it to him after their investigation under the castle and just... guys... But also, it's driving me a little bonkers in Hateno that apparently Link had been by Zelda's side the whole time... except... nobody in Hateno knows who you are except the guy at the school? Like he would have been around, so now I'm curious if Link had been staying somewhere else, if he's got some room or other house somewhere and only Zelda has been in Hateno every now and then or whatever. More to come and explore obviously though. The school is cute and the little student evals with messages to Zelda :)

• I've only done one of the monster hunter side quests, but I thought it was fun how it felt kind of like the Age of Calamity/Hyrule Warrior style of combat where it's the big crowd of monsters and people and you fight alongside to clear out a location. I thought it was cool that they brought that into this game, even if it did feel like Hyrule Warriors in that the other guys didn't really do that much lol

• The depths are scary lol. I'm such a wimp, especially early game when it feels like you're so vulnerable and everything can almost one shot you. I like how they made it so dark and how it's like you have to slowly work your way across and discover that area. There's so much freedom and flexibility and openness to the surface and air areas, so it's fun to have an area of the game that is not like that and forces you to slow down and manage your resources and slowly work through the area. I've barely made it anywhere in the depths, but I hope there's some cool weird stuff to explore down there and it's not just like big caves. Like I hope there's some cool ruins and stuff too.

I've done more stuff, explored the Great Plateau, the Shrine of Resurrection, seen the terrifying looking thing in the Colosseum and went nope no way, and hopped around a bunch of the sky island, unlocked two towers so far, other than the Lookout Tower, and stayed up way too late. I'm still very confused about what the heck is going on, and what's going on with Zelda, and the timeline and zombie boy, but I'm gnawing at my arm to play more, and I wish I could just take a week off to play for seven days straight.

So far, I'm enjoying it! I've only been playing docked, but I'm planning to take it handheld on a trip at the beginning of June (I'm visiting my friend in Phoenix and we're going to Phoenix Fan Fusion), and docked has been good, I haven't noticed any lagging or difficulty loading, other than something the game gets a little wonky with the big attached objects, but that's mostly maneuvering and camera reasons and not like framerate or lag. There is like so much stuff in this game, so we'll see if that performance holds up in handheld too. I need to send off my joy cons before then though because I have been using my pro controller and my joy cons are so drifty it's driving me crazy.

#totk #tears of the kingdom #loz #legend of zelda #totk spoilers #first impressions #botw #breath of the wild #loz: totk #just some random thoughts if anyone is interested in reading lol

[oftenderweapons]

YOOOOO ITS MY BIRTHDAYYYYY🥳🥳🥳🥳 that is all sending a big hug

YOOOOO HAPPY BIRTHDAY MATEEEEE!!!!! Congrats, you have won Loyal Reader extra points, I have this commission you asked a century ago so yeah, happy bday sweets

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 1.8k

Genre: smut, basically pwp, mild angst

Rating: 18+ I DON’T WANT TO SEE ANY MINOR CLICKING ON THAT “READ MORE”, ARE WE CLEAR?

Trigger warnings: swearing, hard domme!Vixen, brat!Vixen, hard sub!Joon, strip-tease!Vixen, bondage, vibrating cockring, dildo, overstimulation (male receiving), daddy kink, mention of gagging (with panties), mention of porn, voyeurism and exhibitionism, cumplay, suspension of powerplay. And Switch!Joon, i guess, too. Very unprotected activities USE CONDOMS!!! Don’t eat cum unless the other person/people can prove they’re clean.

“My hands, please. I’m sorry,” Namjoon whined, breathing through his mouth, his chest gluttonously naked, your lipstick marking it here and there. “Vixen, baby.”

“No.” You spoke it with a smile, gathering some saliva in your mouth, your head ten miles ahead of you, already planning what to do after you got up from your legs-spread-bent-over-ass-right-in-front-of-his-eyes position.

He had been whimpering since the moment you found out he wanted you to go cougar on him.

And he’d enjoyed being the prey for once — however, technically, even though you always let him take control, he knew he wasn’t preying on an innocent lamb. You were his vicious fox even when you submitted to him.

“Vixen.” It was cruel. Feet? Bound. Hands? Bound. Dick? Very fucking trapped in a very fucking vibrating cockring.

“Do you need my panties in your mouth to stay quiet?” You rolled your eyes at the fact that you had to swallow and change your plans because he couldn’t for the love of him keep his mouth shut.

“But I’m gonna cum.”

You kneeled on the floor and smiled. “Not my problem.”

He sobbed and threw his head back. “Come on. How fucking long has it been, three hours?”

“Based on my playlist, only six minutes.” You loosened his necktie — currently around your neck — and undid the first couple buttons on his shirt — which of course you were wearing rather sluttily. And that little plaid skirt? The one he always teased you about when he gave you assignments and tests?

He was regretting it now. A lot. It slipped down your legs so torturously as you stood, planting a foot between his parted legs.

He stared at it — at the Louboutins he had bought you after you spent one entire weekend oversexing him — and regretted them too.

You cocked an eyebrow and forced him to look at you. “Still thinking about that stripper?”

“Which one?”

You smirked. The answer was, after all, correct. “I don’t know if I should be happy you forgot or be worried about you seeing way too many of them.”

“It was just porn. Come on. You know I belong to you. Head to toe—” He shivered his glutes flexing a couple times before he growled and arched all the way, his orgasm spilling over his stomach and abdomen. “Fuck— Fuck, fuck, fuck, Vixen!”

“Language,” you chirped, slipping three fingers into his open mouth and pressing his tongue down, drool dripping out causing you to smirk and giggle. “Such a sorry mess.”

He hummed, his hips still swirling as he still tried to find some relief.

You took a step back, wiping your hand against your mouth, Namjoon whimpering as the vibrations didn’t stop. “Switch it off!”

“What? The music?” You tugged the necktie off you, eyes on him as you faked realisation. “Oh! You mean the lights!”

“Don’t you dare act all that smug. Don’t you—”

“Can’t hear you,” you spoke back, undoing the buttons slowly, shrugging off the shirt and turning around, dropping to the floor, grabbing your ass and squeezing it as you rotated your hips slowly, kneeling forward on your elbows, crawling forward until your arms adhered entirely to the floor, your back fully arched as your cheek met the floor.

“Touch yourself,” he growled darkly and needily.

“Do I need to remind you who’s in charge?” You sneered as you turned around to look at him. He had recovered from his post-orgasmic blues and sensitivity and was well on his way to a second high.

So you stood up and turned to face him. The remote to the toy was safely strapped between your breasts, hooked on your bra. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

“Vixen.” He loved how flawless your evil plan was. You had designed it to make him livid. And it was unwillingly playing out to the T. Knowing you, he realised you had probably calculated him being obnoxiously talkative.

He tried his theory. “Come over here.”

You were entirely lost in the music, eyes closed, jamming to it almost naked in front of your tied up boyfriend. Well, fiance. “Or what?”

“You damn brat—”

“Are you gonna spank me, daddy?” you taunted him coquettishly. The laugh that followed had Namjoon considering whether he made the greatest mistake of his life by getting addicted to you.

“I swear, if I get my hands on you—” he said, his voice raspy.

“I’m wondering how that is going to happen…” you mused, still moving to the beat of the music, the swaying of your hips reminding him why he always let you ride him that much.

He shrugged and shook his head, a drip of precum reminding him he was definitely overestimating his liberties. “I won’t be tied up forever.”

“I can lock myself in the guestroom,” you reminded him.

“But you can’t stay locked in there forever,” he replied with a sadistic smirk.

One more shrug before you lowered the vibrations — he was enjoying the toy way too much. “Too bad you’re a workaholic and I’m alone most of the time I’m in here.”

He kept a straight face at the stimulation fading, but he was not as serene about the reminder. “I’ll work from home.”

“Don’t bother yourself for me.”

Your remark poisoned him. “Come over here, babylove. Please.”

You obeyed. Not without grabbing the dildo that had been mocking Namjoon from the very first second of your striptease. He knew you would fuck yourself with it and keep him salivating, watching.

You placed it between his legs and kneeled, untying his ankles. “Keep it still.”

“Please, Vixen.” He wouldn’t be able to stand that.

You shook your head. “Maybe you don’t get it yet, but you must do what I tell you.”

He followed your instructions and stayed quiet. He watched you drool all over the toy before you collected his sticky cum with your fingers. You observed your fingertips for a second, then drew the tip of the silicone cock.

“Miss.”

You looked at him. His eyes were darker, his face more relaxed, no scrunching or pouting or begging. “Yes, Joonie bear.”

“Are you going to lick that, miss?” He had given up. He had pushed you too far.

“What would you like me to lick, Joonie? The dildo? Your cum on my fingers?” Your voice was more gentle and calm this time, no mocking in sight.

“The cum.”

You didn’t think twice. You licked your fingers clean, then straddled Namjoon comfortably, holding the toy as you tried to insert it.

“Doesn’t it hurt, Miss?”

You smiled. This was the submissive you wanted from the start. “It feels just fine, Joonie bear.” He was drenched in sweat, and you had to push his hair off his face to look him in the eye properly. You kissed his jaw, eyes rolling shut as the toy — significantly smaller than Namjoon — slipped in effortlessly. “I'm sorry I was mean to you, love.”

“It's okay.” Seeing him from this up close, so tired and weak, softened you a little.

“I said bad things about your job. I didn't mean it.” You pressed your lips to his, and he whimpered into your mouth, moving the dildo as he shifted for relief. “Do you need me to slow down? Are you still into this, baby?”

“Yes, I'm feeling good, Miss. Please, use me.” He looked so broken. “Use me.” This time he was truly begging.

“Can I use the toy just once? I'll use you afterwards, I promise, darling.” You stretched to kiss his brow. “I promise.”

He nodded, speechless, his head falling to the crook of your neck as he smelled the way his cologne changed as it mixed with your perspiration. It was more opulent and decadent, it became more exotic and dark, almost sweet.

“I wanna put the vibrations on max so I can press your ring to my clit and cum like that.”

He stretched to your mouth. “Please, do it.” He licked your jaw, his arms twitching. He would have grabbed your ass if he were free. He would have helped you grind on him, on the toy, on whatever.

You changed the setting quickly, feeling Namjoon exhale against you, slowly, his breath so cool on your burning skin. “I'm gonna cum again. I'm not sure I can fuck you after that, if that's what you were thinking.”

“You can,” you reassured him. “I'll give you a pause and fuck your face in the meantime.”

He cackled. “That's what I meant by 'use me'”. He groaned once you grabbed his cock, fixing its angle so that the knob of the ring rested on your clit perfectly. “Are we still power playing?”

You shook your head. “We're back to us if you want to.”

He nodded. “I want to.” You both hummed as you started undulating a little on him. Your tummy stroked his sex, the ring took care of your clit, your front adhered to his as you abandoned your body on top of his. “It was fun. But extenuating. I miss my daddy.” You kissed his neck, nipping at it very lightly.

“Daddy's always here, Vixen. Always yours.” He recognised your approaching high. Maybe you would be faster than him and—

There. You were done. Your thighs tightened all of a sudden, your body tensed for maybe five seconds before it all came loose. “Joonie,” you whined out, relief washing over you as you found the utmost pleasure. “Daddy,” you called, Namjoon fighting against the manacles restricting his wrists.

“I'm here, baby. I just need my wrists free, baby fox.”

You stayed loose and lazy for half a second before switching off the toy. Namjoon sighed in relief, your body once more abandoned against his. “Baby fox, free my wrists, please.”

You did as you were told, your hands skillfully operating without you even looking.

“Good girl,” he rewarded you as you undid the first cuff. He stayed still until they both plopped onto the comfy pillow of the armchair. “Get off that toy, babylove. Now.”

You lifted high enough for him to remove the dildo from inside you.

“I told you I would destroy you once you'd free me. Am I correct?”

You looked up at him. And there it was, that little cocky grin. “You said you would spank me.”

“I did not. I let you believe it.”

You faked outrage as you unglued yourself from him and stared. “Unfair!”

He pulled you closer and slid inside you, almost impaling you. “Fuck!” you squeaked before he grabbed your face.

“What?”

“Fuck,” you spat out. “Me,” you added, a look of challenge in your face.

He grabbed the back of your thighs and next thing you knew, your back was pressed to the wall, his hot chest against yours. “Hold on tight.”

#Namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon drabble #namjoon scenario #domme!reader #namjoon x vixen #52 hertz #bangtansorciere #thetruthuntoldnet #btswritersclub #houseofddaeng

[hardyimagines]

A Crave For Fame

Would love a Forrest piece, maybe where you’re cornered by some bad guy and Forrest steps in and you nurse him. Bandaging his wounds and what not. You get really close to his face and he acts nonchalant about it but you’re really shy. Ends in a heated kiss. Lots of fluff.

TW: Mild Violence

———————————————————————

1932.

The bar smelt like thick liquor and dried throw up. The top of your nose was red and cold from the chilly wind as it whipped around outside swirling in circles, shaking tree branches until they were forced to drop their leaves, whisking up grains of dirt and sending them flying in the direction of those who were outside. It was a dust storm of some sort, that’s what people were referring to it as. The air outside was orange and murky, it looked as if the clouds had descended and were making the world all puffy and one big blur.

The tips of your painted nails slid along the straps of your bright red apron. Unhooking the fabric from the silver hook on the wall, you briefly ogled the peeling paper, crisp and dangling like a hangnail waiting to be ripped off. The apron wasn’t exactly required, but you found that it definitely helped to wear something in order to prevent having alcohol sloshed and spilled and stuck on you when rowdy customers would shake their heavy fists and bounce their heavy, drunk bodies on the counter stools.

Regardless of how many times you wiped down the counter, it always seemed to have a slick, sticky feeling to it and the lemon scent only masked the stench of whiskey and rum for a limited amount of time. The sign outside read ‘Restaurant’ and the sign further forward read ‘Gas station’, and while there was a small supply of gas and a short list of food items on the menu, that wasn’t at all what this place was truly selling.

It was the prohibition era. People were parched and the only way to quench their thirst was by giving them a cold beverage that scalded their throat as it went down. The smooth liquor was rich, bitter, sweet, plain. Everybody had their preference. You weren’t much of a drinker, but pouring beverages was easy enough and from the looks of approval you received all the time, you’d assume you were doing a pretty good job.

Working for bootleggers was never something that had spiked your interest in the past - and maybe it wouldn’t have when you had sauntered up the hill when it was pouring down rain a year ago, but one look at the man had charge had sent you reeling. You didn’t want to work anywhere else.

Forrest Bondurant was one of, if not, the most attractive men you’d ever seen. He had big blue eyes and a head of constantly gelled hair. Why he went through the trouble of styling such a mess, you didn’t know, majority of the time he wore a hat on top of it anyway. He was always strolling around in his big gray cardigan with a button down or another sweater underneath. You couldn’t count the amount of times you’d overfilled the shot glasses on the bar and spilled liquor all over your fingers and the counter, just because staring at him was such a distraction. He didn’t notice though, and if he did, he didn’t say anything.

The front door opened with a loud creak, the hinges loudly alerting whoever had just entered that they were in no shape to be handled so roughly. The door swung shut, slamming loudly behind the new guest. His eyes shimmered green and his teeth sparkled white. The man removed his top hat and strode up to the counter with so much confidence you could’ve upchucked. Men like him made you want to spit in their drinks.

“What can I get for you?” You asked, not bothering to stop and give him the eye contact that he was clearly searching for.

“Something light.” The man said. “I won’t be staying long.” He pressed his elbow against the counter, but made no mention of the filth or the stench.

It wasn’t busy yet, but there were always people inside. Either they slept the night at the bar counter, on the floor, at a table, or outside, or they showed up as bright and early as the sun did, ready to start drinking the day away. Most of the customers that tended to be here so long just made their own drinks when you rested. Forrest knew them, you knew them, so there was no harm done. But this man, he was a completely new face.

“Something light as in water?” You said, pouring a shot of water and replacing it with the shot of vodka that one of the men had been drinking. He was green in the face and looked about ready to faint. You knew he needed to be eased off the liquor, you couldn’t just flat out say that - people reacted too differently to know if it would be a threat or not to cut someone’s intake off.

The man snorted. “Why would I come into a bar for a glass of water?”

You arched a slow brow. “The same reason you’d come in and ask for something light - we have liquor, straight from the bottle. It’s not dolled up and pretty, we don’t have any mixers, it’s just straight alcohol.” You didn’t say another word, instead you finally let your eyes flicker to his own, resisting the urge to glare. But your patience was wearing thin. You didn’t have time for games and he was beating around the bush.

The man sighed. “Moonshine.” He said before lowering himself down on the stool. “And maybe a drink of you?” You could hear the amusement in his voice, as if he were positive you’d take him up on his offer. He found himself hilarious.

Turning on the heel of your pointed boot, you wrapped your slender fingers around the neck of the silver bottle. Rotating, you poured a perfect glass of moonshine and then set the glass down in front of him. No spillage. The liquid was filled to the brim. Extending your arm, your palm creased as you curled your finger inward, waiting to be paid.

Instead, the man grasped your wrist and pressed it against the bar counter. “How about you give this one to me for free? Since I don’t see you marching that ass of yours from out behind the counter.” He patted his lap for good measure. “I went ahead and saved you a seat,” He motioned to his thigh again. “but you know, you’re being awful rude.”

Your eyes creased in the corners, stare hardening as the man tightened his hold on your wrist. Forrest was a shout away, but you were a big girl, not some maiden in a tower waiting to be rescued. Attempting to jerk your arm back to yourself, you hissed under your breath when he turned it at an odd angle. All the other men in the room were out old or oblivious. You could scream their names and they probably wouldn’t bat an eye.

You flinched as he began to rifle through his pocket.

“I’ll give you something.” He said, masking the tone of his voice for a more gentle and apologetic one. But you weren’t an idiot, so you didn’t let your guard down. But it wasn’t as if you could just rip your arm away from him. He was insanely strong and you, unfortunately, didn’t get much upper arm strength pouring drinks. Before you could utter a word, he pressed a cigarette against his lips and lit the end. The brownish-orange tip of the stick illuminated with bright orange embers as he inhaled and the smoke lifted from the end of the form of payment.

“Let me go.” You insisted, practically ripping at your arm so hard that your wrist had gone numb from his tight grasp.

“After I pay you.” He said. You didn’t know what to expect, a puff of smoke being blown in your direction? The man pinched the stick with his knuckles, clasping it between his pointer finger and his middle finger. He rotated it swiftly, pinching it then between his thumb and pointer finger. As suddenly as he moved the smoking tip toward your flesh, your eyes flickered with realization. And then you began to squirm.

“Hey..” You pulled harder. “What are you doing?” It was so obvious. But in a panicked state of mind were you expected to speak adequately. “Let me go, please..” Begging was never one of your strong suits. It just didn’t fit you. You hated it, having to ask someone to have mercy on you. But you didn’t fancy smelling burnt flesh, or feeling the pain that would come along with seared flesh. Scream for help, your brain said. You’re a big girl, but you can still ask for help, it reminded you.

The ashes fell from their loose spots on the cigarette, floating across your skin, dusting it with kisses. The ashes gathered on the counter as he lowered the hot tip of the cigarette toward your flexed forearm. Forrest’s name was on the tip of your tongue, but the pink muscle felt swollen and useless. There was a block in your throat that wouldn’t let your voice free and for the first time in a long time, fear surged through you like a whirlwind, resembling the very state of weather outside. Your body ran hot with fear and as you jerked your elbow to the side, the glass of moonshine toppled over and clattered against the floor.

Pieces scattered along the floor as the cup smashed on impact. If that wasn’t enough to lure Forrest out of office, then perhaps your cry of agony would. But the bloke was just a sliver of a second too late. The tip of the cigarette grazed your skin, enough to leave a slight burn, but as quickly as the glass had broken, Forrest had appeared.

He didn’t hover in the doorway to inspect what was going on. Someone had their hands on you and right away, it was unacceptable. The big, burly man strode forward. His thick fingers curled in the caramel flannel that the bastard was wearing. Forrest snatched the cigarette from his pinched fingers and immediately snubbed the lit tip out by pressing the hot surface against the man’s cheek.

The bloke let out a nasty yell, finally releasing your arm. You lifted your hands, on instinct, to cup over your ears, blocking out the sound of his pained shouting as best as you could.

His cry was like a signal though. The doors flew open and three other men piled in. It was rumored that the Bondurant brother’s were all invincible - especially Forrest. He’d survived a lot - brutal attacks, life-threatening illnesses, having his throat slit, his heart broken, wars. But could he take on four men?

Dropping your hands from your ears when the yelling stopped, you crouched down and began to twist the knob on the safe. It was a sixteen digit pin, so it would take a moment to open, but the revolver inside had six bullets, so you be able to wipe out all of the men with that if it came down to it. You weren’t peering over the bar counter to see what was happening. You were scared - terrified. A part of you wanted to leap into your boss’s arms and give him a bear hug, another part of you wanted to hide in those big arms of his and just forget that your arm had almost been burnt to a crisp. Instead, there was just a very small burn. It was nothing to worry over, nothing in comparison to the burn on the man’s face.

“What the fuck are you all standing there for!” The man rasped loudly, clutching his hand to his face as if the skin on skin contact would help him. “Get him!”

All three men moved forward. One was smoking a cigar - very nonchalant as he marched toward Forrest, one was sweating like he’d just ran a marathon, and the other was blinking furiously as if the dust outside had momentarily blinded him.

Forrest stuck his hand in his pocket and used his fingers to make the shape of a gun. The outline was bulky and visible and the three men hesitated, if only for a second. “I’d think very carefully on what you’re ‘bout to do next, boys.” Forrest spoke softly. His voice was quiet, slow. It was silky against your ears.

You poked your head out for half a second, blindly rotating to nozzle all the way to the left - 11, and then all the way to the right, 5. Inputting every single number as quickly as you could, you jumped in fear at the sound of a sickening crack. You jumped up, expecting to see Forrest laying in a heap on the floor, but instead it was just one of the other men. Forrest stood with his bloodied hand hanging at his side. Blood dripped from the brass knuckles he wore, droplets staining the wooden floorboards. Forrest sneered.

“Who’s next?” He inquired. “The man with the cigarette burn, the broken jaw, the blind one, or the sweaty one.” He flexed his fingers for a moment, waiting impatiently for one of them to charge at him.

What he didn’t expect was for the untouched duo to jump toward him at the same time. He sent his fist flying directly into one of their spine’s, but with the help from the bastard who now had a permanent scar on his cheek, Forrest was sent directly down and on to his back. The men tackled him and you trembled on the spot.

Shakily crouching back down, you began to finish off the code. Forrest’s groans of pain were evident. He was rasping, moaning, putting up as much of a fight as he could. He swung his arms and tried desperately to cover his face. Two men grabbed his arms and pulled them apart, leaving his face and stomach vulnerable to their boss.

The man’s cheek was sunken where the hole was forming. His eyes were red and watery and his stance was slightly shaky. But he had the upper hand as he moved forward. His hand dropped to his pocket and without any hesitance, he pulled a knife free from a holster.

“Now then, why don’t I reopen that cut on your throat?” The man sneered, already beginning to crouch down. Forrest’s nose was bleeding, his eye was swollen and purple. You were sure his stomach would be doused in bruises in the morning and his fingers would be cramped, locked, and jammed.

The safe opened with a quiet buzz and you, with an eagerness, desperately grabbed the handle of the gun and stood. Your hold was steady and your aim was perfect. You’d been working here for a little more than a year, and Forrest had taught you how to shoot within your first few weeks.

Extending your arms out, you held the gun steady as you cocked the revolver. “Hey, asshole.” You said breathily. “If you lay one more finger on him, I’ll kill you.” You could tell by the man’s tense back and resistance to look in your direction that he knew you weren’t bluffing. He slowly tucked away the blade and then sucked in a deep breath of air.

“You’re the first group of people to put up such an unnecessary fight. My brother’s and I, this is what we do, free alcohol from the bootleggers and pretty women are an extra bonus.” He snorted before looking in your direction.

You scowled, before demanding. “Leave..” And although you wanted them to, to all just pile out toward the entrance and get the hell out of here, it worried you. What if they came back sometime in the night when everyone was vulnerable and sleeping? Your eyes were distant as you pondered how this would end. You could blow another hole in his other cheek, though that one would be far more deadly. Or you could let them go.

“Forrest..” You whispered. His guidance was definitely a necessity right now. It wasn’t too often you found yourself in this position. The floorboards creaked underneath you as you shuffled your weight from foot to foot. Forrest sat up with a low grumble, clearly trying to hide the fact that he was in pain. He jerked his arms free from the hold the men had had on him and as he began to stand, he spun around and grabbed the back of their necks. Shoving them toward one another so their skulls rammed into each other, he shoved them both to the floor and then retrieved his brass knuckles. Two opponents down, and one more left.

Forrest gave each of them a few extra punches to the face for good measure, wanting them to realize that they truly weren’t a match for the invincible Bondurant. He whirled around to face the last man, the one who thought he could lay a hand on you, the one who thought he could use you as an ashtray and that would be fine.

The man did that to all of the bartenders, marking them in each town he passed through. His real name wouldn’t live on in the history books, but what he’d done would. Who wouldn’t want to read about a man that burned bartenders with a cigarette butt as a form of payment? It made him want to laugh on the spot.

Instead, he dove head first across the bar counter and directly into you. When it came to fight or flight, your reflexes were clearly to just freeze. His body sent yours crumbling to the floor. It was sticky and disgusting because you only mopped on the weekend. You have a sharp cry of pain and fear as he ripped the gun from your hand and pressed the tip against your chin. “Now then,” He sneered down at you. “You didn’t want a cigarette burn, maybe you’d like a bullet wound. I won’t kill you, I need you alive so you can tell the story about me.” His eyes creased with his lopsided grin and his breath - it stunk of peanuts and smoke. He didn’t even take a sip of the moonshine, it sat prettily on the bar, the liquid shaking from all the movement in the bar.

Forrest stepped toward the bar to help you, just as the man jerked you up and to your feet by your hair. Your eyes were opened wide and your eyes were pleading. The barrel of the gun caressed your soft skin, stroking your chin until he dared to move the gun to your lips. You jerked your head away, scoffing under your breath at the audacity of this man. He must’ve thought he was in a movie with the way he was behaving, talking about himself as if one day he’d be some big story. Your watery eyes moved to Forrest. He hadn’t budged. His knuckles were bloody and dripping - his blood or the men’s blood he didn’t know. All he saw was red. He felt hot and irritated, at a loss of control.

“What do you want?” Forrest said. His voice was so monotone. He sounded like he was taking someone’s order for food, not trying to save your life.

The man chortled. “I want you to light a cigarette and put it out on her body. I’ll let you choose where.” The man moved his hand to the back of your neck, roughly pinching it before he shoved you as hard as possible out from behind the bar and in the direction of your boss. He didn’t follow, he kept four feet between himself and the two of you. The gun was cocked and pointed, all he had to do was shoot.

Your feet didn’t cooperate with your mind, especially not after being forcefully sent flying forward. You rammed right into Forrest’s broad chest, arms immediately lifting so that you could clutch on to his cardigan. No part of you worried that he’d actually do what he was told. This was Forrest, he had a way out of everything - you hoped. Lifting your watery eyes to his own as he pressed his thick fingers against your elbow, steadying you, he checked your face for any signs of injury before slipping his other arm around you as well. You’d never been so close to him, pressed flush against him with hardly any room to breathe.

The man reached up and pinched the front of his hat. Removing the accessory, he lowered it to your head, shielding you from what was to come. Should he be shot, he didn’t think that was something you should see. You blinked slowly, your breaths seeming louder than usual beneath the oversized hat. You couldn’t see much, nothing but the ground and his belly as it rose and fell with every inhale and exhale.

So what happened next made you flinch. It was loud, so loud, there were screams of pain and the sound of cracking bones. Forrest hadn’t moved, he was still standing firmly with his feet planted against the wooden floor. His fingertips dared to brush along your arm, slow and assuring as he watched the scene play out. His brothers weren’t the best fighters, they weren’t the best when it came to confrontation, but regardless of what was happening they’d always have his back like he had theirs.

Without explaining what was going on, Forrest merely lifted the front of his hat so that he could see your features. Inspecting you closely, he let out a quiet grunt before giving you the best smile he could muster. With a swollen lip and a bruised eye, the expression didn’t seem fitting. Who’d be happy at a time like this? Relief colored his features as he slowly brushed his knuckles along your warm skin before he parted his lips to speak.

You beat him to it though. “Thank you..” You whispered softly before dragging yourself back. You didn’t want to suffocate him or make him uncomfortable by clinging to him. There was no longer a threat. “Come on,” You murmured softly. “Let me look at your injuries.” Peeling the hat off of your head, your slender fingers slipped through his own and you slowly guided him toward one of the tables. It was wiped clean, void of any crumbs or liquor, so you set the hat down on the surface and then nudged him gently to take a seat.

Forrest’s knees popped under the pressure and his bloodied hands moved to his stomach. It was only then, when he felt the pressure of the brass knuckles, that he realized he hadn’t taken them off. His fingers felt swollen and stiff and his arms refused to move for a few moments.

You have him a soft smile before slowly reaching for his hand. Your touch was delicate and slow as you pried the brass knuckles off of him. Setting the tool on the table, you turned around to fetch the first aid kit from behind the bar, just as Howard and Jack were hauling the bloke toward the exit. They’d be back for the other three as well.

You stepped over the unconscious bodies on the floor - some drunkards, and the three others were Forrest’s attackers. Retrieving the fallen revolver, you uncocked the weapon and slipped it back in the safe before securely closing the black case and then retrieving the plastic first aid box. The white handle fit snugly in your small palm as you pulled it free from its place under the bar.

You didn’t have the confidence that you’d be able to fix Forrest up as good as new, but you were certain that you’d be able to prevent anymore swelling, help some go down, and patch up the spots on his face that were bleeding. Your boots clicked softly against the floorboards as you made your way over to the table. Setting the box down, you undid the clasps on the front and then pushed it open. Dragging out the small container of alcohol, some gauze, a few wipes, and an ice packet, you gave him a small smile.

Forrest watched your every movement through one good eye, and one half-opened, swollen, purple eye. His nose was busted and bleeding and purple in the center. It didnt look broken, but it certainly looked bruised.

“Could I wipe your hands clean?” You asked softly. There was always an ever present shyness to you when it came to the man seated in front of you. You didn’t know what it was about him that made you feel so nervous, but you felt the need to shy away after every word exchanged.

He gave a quiet hum before lifting his hands and laying them on the table. His knuckles were tense and bleeding in various places. The impact of the brass knuckles hammering against a man’s face, still brought a small amount of pain to the man’s knuckles. He shuffled, watching you as you slipped your hand into his own and lifted it. The sun poured in through the window, falling across the injury so you could see perfectly. You opened the bottle of alcohol, dousing the cloth in it before you gently began to wipe away the smudges of blood and then cleaned the opened wounds, cuts and scrapes that bled like gashes.

He didn’t wince or jerk away even though it stung horribly. It wasn’t a matter of protecting his ego, everyone experienced pain at some point in their life. Adjusting his hand lightly, he cleared his throat before letting his thick fingers drop to his lap when you were finished cleaning them up. “Would you have really shot him?” He asked suddenly.

Your eyes lifted to his own as he asked such a thing. You stepped away again to retrieve some ice, but his words burned your ears. As you filled the ice pack, you couldn’t help but wonder what the honest answer was. Would you have shot him? Blinking a few times, you carried the ice pack back over to your boss and slowly lifted it so that he could hold it in place over his eye. “Yes.” You said after what felt like an eternity to him. “In the leg.. perhaps, or the arm.” You offered. “But I don’t think I couldve killed him.”

Forrest gave a soft nod. “I didn’t expect you to.” He assured you before giving you the best smile he could muster. “I’m incredibly grateful that you.. well, put your life on the line for me like that. He could’ve killed you.”

You snorted. “You and me both. But we’re fine.” Guiding his hand to the ice pack so he could hold it on the wound, you then began to tend to his nose. There wasn’t much you could do, apart from clean up the dried blood that rested underneath his nostril. He had stubble, dancing along the length of his warm flesh. His cheeks and his jaw were coated in the fine hairs, giving some texture to his face as your hand cupped the sharp surface, thumb grazing his chin so that you could tip his head back.

The close proximity was numbing. You felt like you’d been swallowed by a flame. Maybe it was the way the sun illuminated the both of you, but the heat you felt was completely internal. Fidgeting for a moment under his unwavering stare, you watched as the white cloth turned red and his red skin returned to the initial paleness it ordinarily was. Crumbling the rag, you laid it on the table before leaning into him so you could get a better look at his eye. You moved the ice pack, squinting as you inspected the damage.

“I’m not doctor, Mr. Bondurant.. you’re probably better off having this injury looked at.” You suggested before straightening. Your arms slowly crossed over your chest, warm fingertips tracing the sleeves of your shirt.

Forrest grumbled something incoherent before giving you a soft nod. “Feels just fine.” He lied.

“Forrest.” You scolded him. “It’s swollen shut.”

The man arched a brow. Very rarely did you use his first name. His large palm lifted, covering his eye so that he could watch you through the swollen one. “See. Works just fine.”

You squinted challengingly before shaking your head in mild amusement. The man was insufferable. You made movement to turn to clean up the first aid kit tools, but he grasped your forearm tenderly in his large palm.

“Id know if something were wrong with my eye, Y/n, because you look just as beautiful through my swollen eye as you do with my two good ones.” He pulled you in his direction, his expression a pleading one. “Perhaps you should take one more look at it.”

Your brows furrowed at the compliment he’d given you before you stumbled in his direction. Laying your nimble fingers against the unsturdy, wooden arm of the chair. Inspecting his eye as he asked, you gave him a small, shy smile. “Mr. Bondurant, I believe you..” Though you weren’t sure if you did or you just wanted to put some proximity between you and his body. He was so warm and inviting, it drove you up the wall.

Forrest leaned forward. He enjoyed seeing you squirm so much. You were riddled with your fear of being unliked by him, even though it was clear he felt the same things for you. The man’s hand was gentle as it slid up the length of your arm so he could brush a few of your tresses back and out of your eyes.

Your cheeks felt unbelievably warm in this moment. You were sure that if they could be, they’d be the color of a ripe tomato. Lifting your free hand to steady yourself, you pressed it against his strong shoulder. “What are you doing..?” You breathed, attempting to rack your brain for some sort of explanation for his actions. Your brain refused to help you, it was completely blank. The closer your face grew to his own, the hotter you became and the more your brain shut down. You felt like a blob of jello.

He couldn’t help but smile. He sensed your shyness, which was exactly why he didn’t offer any words. Just actions. He figured they’d speak louder. Besides, he had to thank you in some enjoyable fashion. Why not with a kiss? The man spread his thighs wide enough to give you a place to stand. Drawing you forward, he moved his hands to your curvy waist and held on to you as his hot breaths began to mingle with your own.

All at once, your brow smoothed and your mind was completely blank. You saw nothing but him, heard nothing but the hammering of your own heart, smelled nothing but him - and he smelt like smoke and liquor, you felt nothing but his hard body under your palm, and soon you’d taste nothing but those big, pink lips of his. Your own mouth parted, incredibly too willingly, and all at once your mouth’s molded together like long lost pieces to a missing puzzle.

Your body fell into his lap, arms appearing to be insanely slender as they curled around his wide, broad, muscular shoulders. Forrest moved his hand to your leg, steadying you with one hand on your thigh and the other laid against your back. His mouth was slow, tentative, and curious as it moved in sync with your own and your’s was hungry, exploring, and needy. The shyness you felt crept away, but it didn’t go too far, it was just silenced by the romantic exchange he was leading.

His lips were as soft as you were imagined, and he tasted like honey and coffee. You pressed the crook of your elbow against the back of his neck and let a sultry moan fall from your lips in approval. Every brush of his fingers against your spine and feel of his tongue gliding against your own, sent sparks of electricity jolting throughout your body.

You still didn’t understand why he was kissing you, but was there really a point in questioning it? Maybe he was just grateful. Maybe he’d been hit so hard in the face he thought this was the right thing to do? And maybe, you hoped it was for this reason, the incident had helped you both find the confidence to grow suddenly closer. You were careful not to let your nose bump his or your hands to stray too far in fear of hitting an injury. What this meant and how far this would go didn’t cross your mind though, because in this moment there was only him and those sweet tasting lips of his.

———————————————————————

Tag List: @saved-fanfiction @thephuonganh @theaamberr @innerpaperexpertcloud @darklydeliciousdesires @thebeckyjolene @mollybegger-blog @travelingmypassion @caffinated-tree @tcmhollnd @br0ck-eddie @ellar21 @advictedtohim @river-rain-water @crldrr2 @louloudeug99

A/N: This is my first fic in almost a year so please bear with me🖤 ( ALSO NOT MY GIFS ) also it’s been soooo long since I’ve uploaded, I can’t remember how to do a ‘keep reading’ on mobile, so please message me and let me know how!!

#tom hardy #forrest bondurant #forrest bondurant x reader #forrest bondurant fanfiction #forrest bondurant fic #lawless imagine

[thran-duils]

Lost in Zero Gravity (P.20)

Title: Lost In Zero Gravity (Part Twenty) Summary:  Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers.  Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 2,859 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior, drug use

Author’s Note: Steve has feelings! But he’s still a dick. And so is Tony tbh.

Part Nineteen || Part Twenty One || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Steve walked into the Avengers facility, heading towards the conference room where Bucky and Sam were supposed to be waiting. He was already on edge with how Y/N had reacted to the whole situation. He had expected her to be upset but she acted like she hated him. Even after he had told her she should think about the money. He hoped the next time he saw her, she was a little more grateful and had more perspective on the situation considering she would be more separated from her initial adrenaline.

The meeting was quick, the supervisors meeting with them over hologram. They were pleased with the result, having captured Qian and the illegal bombs he was trying to sell to Perez. The trio hung up feeling relief that everything had gone smoothly. Sam got up quickly after they hung up, telling them he had to meet Natasha to go over the next mission he had already been handed. That just left Steve and Bucky in the room.

“Is she alright?” Bucky asked as Steve started to get up from his chair. Steve leveled him with a look before settling back in the chair.

“She’s fine,” Steve returned curtly.

“She didn’t seem fine,” Bucky told him. Steve shot him an annoyed look and Bucky said, “Well, she didn’t.”

“She’s prone to dramatics. She’ll get over it in no time. Plus, she’s got protective daddy Tony to coddle her. I’m sure he’s already back there to cuddle and pamper her. She’s becoming a spoiled brat. And he’s not helping.”

“Didn’t he tell you to not get attached?” Bucky half joked and closed his mouth when Steve glared. “Right. Stark is a ‘do as I say, not as I do’ kind of guy.”

Steve shook his head, tapping his fingers on the table. “With what everyone knows about us, you would think it would’ve been me to catch feelings,” he muttered. “Not the playboy.”

“So, you’re telling me you have no feelings whatsoever,” Bucky said, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice despite the calmness of his tone. Steve glared across the table at him again, and Bucky stared back defensively this time.

“Does it matter? She’s not my wife,” Steve finally said tightly. “Besides, like I told you, Tony is encroaching.”

“Tony’s married too—”

“Tony doesn’t give a shit about his wife. They’re married at this point for the kids, appearances, and for his ego. The last probably being the most important to him.” He chewed on his bottom lip and looked at Bucky with a guilty conscience.

“What?”

“I wasn’t even supposed to be around her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tony already threatened me to stay away.”

Bucky cocked his head, this being new information to him. Steve had not told anyone about the encounter between him and Tony after the meeting where they saw Laurie, save for Wylan and Eric who had seen the encounter. They had kept their mouths closed after Steve had threatened them.

“I might have… been messing with her birth control.”

Bucky looked dumbfounded and he shook his head, leaning back. “Steve—”

“Don’t you give me a lecture too!” Steve snapped. “You don’t know what it’s like. To be so in love with a woman and then realize she’s only in it for the money ultimately. And you can’t… let her go. Even then. And then you have her pregnant and not know if it’s yours or not because she’s been messing around.” He paused before exhaling sharply. “And then we had Y/N. And that seemed a perfect opportunity. One to start fresh. And I liked her. She’s cute, funny, great in bed, has her own interests. It was good. Even if it meant sharing…” He trailed off.

“You didn’t want to keep sharing though,” Bucky commented after a few moments of silence. “You wanted her to love you.”

Steve said nothing.

“And she went for Tony,” Bucky finished.

Steve’s jaw ticked and he clipped, “Even after his wife knocked her a good one.” He met Bucky’s eyes again and said, “So, again, what does it matter? I tried to give her an angle of paying her debt off – slowly but surely – and she still didn’t respond. So, The only thing I need to keep track of is if she’s pregnant or not. And we will cross that bridge when we come to it.”

<><><>

You woke up, hearing the soft purr and feeling the fluff against your neck. Luna had curled up on the bed next to you.

Tony was still in bed, dressed. It was dark outside; how long had you been sleeping? He noticed you were awake and looked away from the hologram on the tablet he was working with.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, closing the hologram.

You shrugged, stretching underneath the sheets. “I guess.” Luna jumped off the bed as you stretched, stretching on the ground herself before trotting towards the door. Probably to go eat.

“As well as you could,” Tony said as a matter of fact and you eyed him. He sounded like he understood what that felt like… sleeping under stress.

You nodded, “Yeah. As well as I could. Thank you.”

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “I had Shake Shack delivered.” You smirked at that and he asked, “What?”

“You and burgers.”

“It’s a comfort thing,” he told you.

Sitting up, you smiled at him. “Well, yes I would like to indulge in comfort with you.”

Your eyes drug down his face and you bit your bottom lip. You needed to keep Tony happy, he was protecting you. Before dinner, you wanted to give him a good time. He had kept his word, staying by you while you slept when he knew you were frightened. That meant something.

“Wanna work up an appetite?” you asked, scooting closer.

“Y/N, you don’t have to—” Tony started to say but you silenced him by forcing your lips to his, your hand holding the back of his head. He gave up on protesting then, very easily, kissing you back with fervor.

Tony helped you get out of your dress and you went to tearing his shirt off, his belt going off next, and subsequently everything else. The skin on skin contact was comforting, and you fell into it, sinking into the intimacy to escape. He felt safe.

Climbing on top, you sunk down onto him slowly. He breathed shakily, his hands at your hips, holding tight as you adjusted to his width. Inch by inch you took him, deeper each time you rolled your hips.

Pushing the thought of the ending of the last time you had found yourself in this exact position, you rotated your hips slowly at first, picking up pace over time. Tony threw his head back against the pillows, his eyes closed, biting his bottom lip. Hands planted on his chest, you worked him and yourself up into a frenzy before you both fell into ecstasy in each other.

Panting, you rolled off of him, him rolling with you, holding you in a tight embrace. His kisses were soft and fierce at the same time along your jawline and up to your lips.

Holding you tucked to his chest, he whispered, “I love you” in between kisses.

The words got stuck in your throat, but he did not seem to notice as he continued caressing and kissing you. You were not ready to say that yet.

<><><>

“Baby, I gotta go,” Tony told you, hovering over you as you woke up the following morning.

That woke you up out of a dead sleep and you sat up further. “For how long?”

“Not long. Just the day. I gotta go home for a bit and then go to the office. Terrence is going to stay in here. I told him no matter what, to stay in here and you are not to leave, even if Steve tells him it’s okay.”

Worriedly, you asked, “And he’ll listen to that?”

“Yes.”

He sounded sincere and you reluctantly said, “Okay.”

Tony gave you a quick kiss on the forehead before he straightened up and walked out of the room. Luna had jumped on the bed and crawled on top of you, kneading.

You looked at her and asked, “Wanna watch Netflix?”

<><><>

Tony saw Steve coming down the hallway. He had gone home for a couple hours, hanging out with the kids. Alessia had not refrained from making the comments about the ‘vacation’ he lied about being on as the excuse of why he had been gone for the days he had been. He had ignored her and enjoyed the play time as well as he could.

But now it was business and he faced Steve with intensity.

“Coming in pretty late, aren’t you?” Steve commented stopping in front of him.

“Spent the morning with the kids,” Tony replied shortly.

“Not with the princess?” Steve taunted.

Tony was not impressed with this response and snapped, “My office.”

Without another word, Tony turned on his heel, heading for it without waiting to get a response from Steve. Steve simpered to himself before following Tony into the office and closing the door. As soon as the door was closed, Tony went in quick.

“I gave you a chance, Steve. I told you to not make me have to tell you three times!”

“So, is this you telling me for the third time?” Steve asked sarcastically.

Tony stepped closer and pointed angrily, “Do you remember when you were so fucking offended she even insinuated that you would hit her? Do you remember that? Let me be the one to tell you that you have done so much worse!” Steve gave a wry laugh and Tony snapped, “You traumatized her, Steve! She is a fucking mess!”

“Oh, give me a break. Don’t buy that overdramatic shit,” Steve retorted. “She’s milking it for attention!”

“And how dare you tell her I knew about it!”

“Was she mad about that?” Steve asked sardonically just to push Tony’s buttons more. “I’m sorry. Did she not let you ride her?”

Tony started to sneer, “You stupid son of—"

“She earned money,” Steve cut in.

“Don’t play that card.”

“What card?”

“Like you were helping her!”

“Was I not?”

“Were you serious about giving her money to pay off some of her debt?”

“Yeah. I was,” Steve told him, and Tony shook his head, furious. “What? Why not dangle the carrot?”

“Because that’s fucked up, Steve!”

“And what we were doing before wasn’t? Who cares if it never came to fruition? She still could have felt some accomplishment from it!”

“We weren’t lying to her about what the situation was like you just decided to pull!” Tony raised his voice defensively.

“You think she’s going to ever be happy? With either of us?” Steve asked Tony seriously. “Sure, we weren’t lying to her before and she knew she was supposed to do whatever we said. But is that really a basis for a good relationship? I mean… apparently you think it is. Like I said before.”

Tony ignored the jab and said fiercely, “Steve, if you have even a slightest bit of hope she is pregnant, why are you doing that shit to her?”

“I have confidence in myself and my team. And it proved right, as it usually does. She didn’t get hurt. And as far as her being pregnant, yeah, I had that on my mind. If you didn’t think I had that on my mind…” He paused before saying, “I wouldn’t have put her in that situation if I wasn’t confident. Trust me on that one. I’m not reckless like you. Racing for her when you’re not even a professional.”

“Oh, fuck off. That was completely different.”

“How?”

“I didn’t leave her! I had no intention of even attempting to do that! It was to protect her! Not to complete some stupid mission she had no business being a part of!”

Steve threw his hands out before they came to rest on his hips. He let out a laugh, “Right. Tony. Always the savior.”

Tony asked annoyed, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” Steve snapped. “We’ve already had this conversation! It’s established you’re good cop and I’m bad cop now. I’m sure you already told her about me with the BC now that I’m painted as the bad guy just to make yourself look even better.”

Tony stepped closer, pissed off. “You know what, Steve? No. I didn’t. I didn’t tell her when I found out and I still haven’t told her. I wish you would have a little bit more faith in me than that!”

“Oh, so we are both in that secret now. I’ve made you an accomplice. Wonder what will happen when that dam breaks when she finds out she’s pregnant!” Steve snarled at him.

Tony exploded, “She’s not pregnant, Steve!”

Steve looked flabbergasted for a few moments before he scoffed, “You don’t—”

“I do!” Tony bellowed at him, causing Steve to close his mouth in surprise. “I made her take a test the same goddamn day you told me! It was negative! So, no! She’s not!” Steve ground his teeth, staring Tony down. Tony ran his hand through his hair and exhaled sharply. “So, you’ve got no stake in that. And it seems you really just do not give a shit about her outside of that. You’ve proven that! It seems like it’s just money for you now. And if it’s money you’re worried about, do you think I won’t buy you out?” Tony gave a wry laugh, throwing his hands out. “Me? Not be able to throw some money around? I’ll give you even more if it’ll guarantee you don’t come within 300 yards of her!”

Steve was still silent, shaking his head.

“What? What do you have to say?” Tony exclaimed irritated.

“You don’t know for sure yet about the pregnancy!” Steve said in a low voice, shaking his head again.

Tony gave him an incredulous look, “Are you deaf, Steve? I—”

“I heard what you said! You… god. Do you even remember how it worked or did Alessia just handle it on her own?” Steve asked him harshly. Tony waited expectantly and Steve shrugged, “That answers that. You need to do it two weeks after a missed period.” He held up two fingers for dramatics, pissed off. “You asked her about that? If she’s had one yet? She’s been off the pills for over a month! You can definitely take a test too early! It just happened with Cecile, I should know!”

Tony was silent now and Steve scoffed loudly. He stepped closer and said angrily, “So, you can coddle her and play your big bad protector, sugar daddy role.” Tony clenched his jaw at that, insulted by the comment and Steve pressed on, not caring; it only made him more animated. “Whatever you are planning on doing. She was far too fucking over dramatic when I saw her last anyway. She’s your problem for now.”

“’For now’.”

“Yes, for now,” Steve snapped back at him. “If she is pregnant, I am not going to let that go.”

“Looks like you’ll be waiting on yet another pregnancy test to see if it’s yours. Funny how you keep finding yourself in these situations,” Tony said coolly.

Steve stared at Tony, looking murderous for about two seconds before he laughed a curt laugh. Tony knew it was coming a split second before Steve swung at him. Tony almost moved quick enough but he got clipped.

As he stumbled, he hit the arc reactor. The suit built around him quick but not quick enough because Steve socked him again, sending him spiraling. But the suit’s hands dug into the floor as it completed, catching Tony before he fell completely flat. He was up in a second, meeting Steve’s oncoming fist.

“Steve!” Tony grated as Steve yanked his hands out of the suit’s grasp with effort. “Stop it!”

Steve ignored him, swinging again and Tony deflected. Steve swung again and Tony gripped Steve’s fist in his and struggled to hold him. Steve got free and socked Tony again, knocking him back. Tony sent a short burst of power at him, knocking Steve onto his stomach. Steve was back up in a moment and Tony was ready with an uppercut, sending Steve back to his knees.

His office door opened and Happy was standing there with Rhodes.

“Stay back!” Tony shouted at the two of them as Steve got back up.

Steve had a trail of blood coming out of the corner of his mouth, his hair and suit disheveled. His gaze was fixed on Tony’s suit.

“Final warning, Steve,” Tony said lowly, holding up his hand, lighting up the repulsor threateningly.

Steve was stiff, hatred in his expression. He straightened out his suit aggressively, brushing at his slacks.

“I’d do another pregnancy test, Stark,” Steve sneered before wiping at his mouth and turning on his heel. He shoved past Happy and Rhodey, knocking shoulders with them.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @icant-hangout-imdrumming @oceaniamaddness @multifandom-superlover @imsonick @holl2712 @here4thefanfics @agustdowney @fanofalltheficsx @buttercandy16 @last-saturday-night 

#tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark tony stark #dark steve rogers #dark marvel #dark!tony stark #dark!steve rogers #my shit

[masterjedilenawrites]

"Youre so full of light, I'm afraid I'll be the one to quench it" with crosshair x reader? is that an option?

Awww yesss, I’m happy to write anything for this grumpy toothpick! 🖤

Crosshair x reader | 2k words

“You’re so full of light... I’m afraid I’ll be the one to quench it” from this prompt list.

Crosshair was avoiding you. That much was obvious.

At first you'd thought he was having a bad day and let him have his space. But then it kept happening. Never looking at you. Leaving the room as soon as you entered. Pretending not to hear your questions. You were back to where you'd started with him, all those rotations ago when the Bad Batch had first arrived on your home world to help drive out some troublesome pirates. He'd been a tough cookie to crack, but slowly, day by day, you'd managed to draw him more and more out of his shell. And the more he did, the more you fell for him.

But now he'd retreated back behind his walls again and you had no clue why. Had you said or done something to scare him? You weren't sure, but you also weren't disheartened. You knew someone as special as Crosshair would take time and patience to bond with. You'd pull him back out eventually, you were confident.

An opportunity came when Hunter announced one day the need for the marksman to scout a nearby pirate camp, located in a clearing just beneath a forested ridge of land. You knew the area yourself and convinced the Sergeant you'd be a good assistant for Crosshair's recon mission. The sniper had had his helmet on when Hunter sent you off with him, so you could only imagine whatever salty expression he sported beneath it.

The two of you trudged along in silence for a while at first. Occasionally you'd suggest a path to take, or he'd caution you from stepping on the more unstable parts of the terrain hidden beneath the underbrush. Otherwise, you let him be, and instead focused most of your attention on taking in your surroundings. Even in the midst of trouble, you still made a point to appreciate the beauty of your planet. The curved and knotted trees, each as unique as a snowflake, with their wide leaves fluttering in the grasp of a stray breeze. The tiny beams of sunlight that sliced through the foliage and illuminated the otherwise dingy forest floor. The echoing songs of the winged creatures that danced above your heads, ignorant to the conflict of the more sentient beings they cohabited with.

Eventually you couldn't help yourself, and you started to hum a song of your own. It was a tune you made up as you went, each note created to express whatever new feeling sparked within you as you ventured further into the forest. You were hardly a composer, and you were certain that even when humming you were off-key, but it didn't matter. The song made you feel light and free, a feeling that was rare but welcomed wherever you could find it.

You realized you were being watched, and turned your head to see Crosshair's worn helmet trained in your direction. He quickly averted his gaze, but it was enough to show you he'd been staring for a while. You hid a smile, not wanting to seem like you were teasing.

"Am I annoying you?"

"No," he said, low and quick. You noticed his grip on his rifle tightened ever so slightly.

"Are there any songs you like? I can try to sing if I know them."

He did not respond, continuing to plod alongside you in silence. Well, at least you'd gotten one word out of him.

You soon arrived at a part of the ridge that gave you the perfect view of the pirate encampment below. You nestled in the crook of a large tree while Crosshair laid himself prone on the ground next to you. He used the scope of his rile to get a better look at the camp, muttering details he thought important while you logged them on a holopad for future strategizing.

"Kriff," he growled. You peered around the trunk of the tree, as if you could see whatever had caught his eye from such a distance. You could only make out little dots of tents and people scattered in the valley below, so you turned back to him for explanation. "Children."

You hummed knowingly, which seemed to fluster him.

"That doesn't concern you?" His scope was abandoned as his helmet lifted to face you.

You shrugged. "What, criminals can't fall in love and start families?"

You couldn't see his scowl but you could feel it. You weren't sure why his grumpiness made you want to laugh sometimes, but you hid your amusement with another shrug, not wanting to upset him further, not when he seemed to be more open to talking to you again.

"Well it's going to make this mission much more difficult," he grumbled, starting to pack up his rile.

"Yeah..." you agreed, but you didn't sound as defeated as he did. "We'll just have to get creative. We'll figure it out."

He was crawling over to your spot behind the tree but paused at your words, his helmet tilting as if in thought for a moment. You raised your eyebrows at him, wishing you could somehow read the marksman's mind. You were certain his thoughts were fascinating; they usually were with the quiet ones.

He settled into the space next to you and fumbled around in one of his pouches, eventually bringing out a couple of small ration packs. You smiled in gratitude as you took the one he offered you. You hadn't realized how famished you'd grown from this outing.

"It's not much," he mumbled as if apologizing. He worked on freeing himself from his helmet and you tried not to stare at the face that emerged from it.

"It's still something," you smiled through bites of... well, whatever it was you were eating. It tasted more like wood than food and you tried to believe it at least had some nutritional value as you forced it down.

Crosshair was shaking his head at your words.

"What?" you asked. He only shook his head again.

You tried to drop it, but your patience was starting to wear a little faster than usual. He was so close to you, and yet he felt further away than ever. You were both angled so that it'd be natural to look at each other, but you could see him purposefully looking anywhere else. You moved your knee experimentally, brushing against his and causing it to jerk away suddenly. Even beneath all his armor you could tell his muscles were tense. Something was clearly bothering him and you hated the thought that you were somehow the cause of it.

"Crosshair," you said, trying to keep your voice soft and non-threatening, but still speaking loud enough for him to know you were trying to get his attention. He reluctantly looked at you, his fingers curling around the rile that lay across his lap in clear display of unease. He almost looked sick. "What's wrong?"

His frown deepened, further than you ever thought possible.

"Cross," you said again, even softer now, scooting yourself just a little bit closer. You felt like you were approaching an injured animal. You needed to be careful if you wanted to help him, lest his suddenly snap and chase you away.

"Nothing's wrong," he huffed, still determined to keep his thoughts private. You didn't move closer, only looked him up and down, trying to figure him out.

"If I did something to upset you," you said slowly, "please let me know, so I can try to make amends. I don't want to be a burden to you."

He sighed, but it wasn't as frustrated or annoyed as it usually sounded. He brought his hands up to his face and dragged them down, slow and forlorn. When he spoke, it was so quiet you could barely understand. "You're not a burden."

You squinted at him, summoning back what patience you'd briefly lost before, waiting.

"I'm the burden," he said a little louder. "You, you're so..."

His eyes cast about the forest beside him, as if he might find the words he wanted painted on the trees. You held your breath, unsure what they could possibly be.

"So full of light," he finally said, allowing his gaze to finally meet yours. "And... I'm afraid I'll be the one to quench it."

You blinked as it became clear to you the cause of his turmoil.

"Your response to everything is positive," he continued rather quickly, as if to get his thoughts out before he could stop himself. "All I see is hardship and difficulty. You sing songs and act like everything is beautiful."

"Most things are," you couldn't help but say, which only caused him to glare at you, proving his point.

"This forest is not," he said. "There are a hundred places someone could've hid and got the jump on us. Those pirates are not... They can have as many children as they want, but they are fools for bringing them along to a raid. These rations are not..."

He threw the crumpled wrapper at you and probably would've continued his ranting had you not let out reached out for his hand and stopped him.

"Okay, okay, I get it," you said with a slight chuckle, only resting your hand atop his, not yet holding it fully. "I'm an optimist, you're a cynic. So what?"

"So..." his voice slipped back into a growl. But he trailed off, unable to explain why it mattered to him that you were so different from each other. You had a guess as to why now; it had become quite clear to you the sniper had feelings for you that were very similar to the ones you had for him.

"You want to know what I think?" you asked with a smile. You waited for his nod to continue. "I think we need each other. I think you need me to ease your worries, show you that not everything is as difficult as you make it. And I need you to keep me grounded. Keep me safe from all the threats I can't see. We make a good team, you and I. That's what I think."

Crosshair looked at you and it was if the walls he'd built up were slowly lowering down again, just as they had when you'd first gotten to know him. The lines on his face, usually so sharp and prominent, softened as your words began to settle within him. You much preferred seeing him like this, relaxed and at ease.

"You won't ever be a burden to me," you said, now letting yourself cross the gap that remained between you, saddling up alongside him so your sides were flushed together and your hands, now holding each other properly, rested on your thigh. "My entire planet is at war. Most of my friends have left or are dead. I don't even have a home anymore. It's going to take a lot more than your grumpy ass to quench my light."

You rested your head against the stiff plastoid on his shoulder. It wasn't comfortable, but it was more to show him the truth of your words. You trusted him. You enjoyed him. You wanted to be close to him.

He didn't say anything, but then again, he was better with actions anyway. After a beat, he let go of your hand and moved to wrap his arm around you instead, pulling you into the crook of his shoulder and placing a toothpick between his teeth with a contented sigh. You let out a happy sound of your own, humming your made-up song as the two of you rested against the tree.

You knew this probably wasn't the end of Crosshair's insecurities, that you had a lot of work ahead of you to continue convincing him that he was wanted and worthy, that you were strong and safe. But it was a good start, and you were more than willing to keep going, knowing the reward of Crosshair's love at the end would make it all worth it.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #the clone wars #the bad batch #crosshair #crosshair x reader #ct-9904 #my emotional support grumpy toothpick man #ask box open #prompt list #i'm feeling creative in this chilis tonight

[dearophelia]

combat, i’m ready for combat

long live :: seven of wands :: combat, i’m ready for combat

It's suddenly become very important that Hannah knows what her child faces when she jumps out of a shuttle.

“Zaeed suggested we do an Armax match,” Hannah says, over coffee.

“That's,” Olivia blinks and looks up, starting to approach morning coherency. “That's actually a really good idea.”

“Liv.” She'd been hoping Olivia would help her talk Zaeed out of it. While part of her knows that running through at least one match is the good and sensible thing to do, the rest of her wants to stick her head in the sand and pretend that reapers are just some nightmare that will fade away when she wakes up. They aren't, but that doesn't stop her from hoping.

Olivia swallows a mouthful of coffee and then covers a yawn. “It's a good idea. It'll help you feel comfortable shooting at things that are moving. Hopefully,” she starts a new sentence before Hannah can jump in, “hopefully you'll never have to. But,” she pauses, “I’d feel a little better, I know Zaeed would, and I think you would too, if the first time you had to hit a moving target was not the first time you'd tried.”

Hannah sighs. Zaeed would cancel if she really wanted and Olivia won’t push it if she asks her not to. But much as she doesn't want to admit it – they have a point. She can hit a stationary and labeled target pretty reliably, but in reality that isn't going to do her a damn bit of good.

***

Olivia uses her pass to book the Arena after hours one night. She's been using it for practice with her team, trying new tactics, weapons, and squad configuration. Armax is more than happy to let her have it after the incident with their scoring system.

Hannah watches in fascination as Olivia straps on her armor. She's seen her daughter in full battle gear before, but never watched the process. Boots, greaves, helmet, gauntlets, shoulders – all black with bright purple accents. Garrus helps Olivia with the shoulder seals of her chest piece and then she's in. Olivia shakes out her arms and bounces around a bit, making sure everything's properly in place.

She actually looks excited.

They're fighting holographic enemies. There's no audience, nothing real at stake. And yet Hannah's scared out of her mind. And her daughter is grinning.

Olivia cracks her neck and turns around. Her grin immediately vanishes – Hannah wonders just what expression was on her face to cause Olivia make an abrupt left turn like that – and she gives her a quiet little comforting smile instead. “I promise. No one's out there. They're not recording this. We're playing on bronze. We've,” she gestures to herself, Garrus, and Zaeed, “got you covered, Mom.”

That Olivia considers this playing is something Hannah thinks she ought to have examined by a professional. “Remind me why we're doing this?”

“Because actual reapers don't stand still in a shooting range with a target on their foreheads.” Zaeed comes up behind Hannah and kisses her cheek. Hannah leans into him a little.

“Be nice if they did,” Olivia says, rotating her shoulder. She got caught by a charging brute last week and she's still a little sore. “How's the armor feel?”

Hannah twists her torso. She's borrowing a set from Liara; Armax requires armor for all combatants and Olivia looked at her like she was nuts when she mentioned renting some from the arena. It fits a bit awkwardly – too tight in the shoulders, too loose in the chest – but it's so much lighter than the suit Ashley offered. She can actually move in this one without feeling like the local gravity quadrupled. “Strange.”

“You get used to it,” Olivia says and checks the capacity on her Black Widow.

Hannah's not sure she wants to get used to armor, but doesn't say so.

“Ready?” Zaeed asks.

Hannah blinks.

“You don't actually have to do this, Mom,” Olivia says quietly, taking a step closer so the two men know to keep their noses out of it. “Say the word. We'll cancel the whole thing and go get dinner.”

Hannah shakes her head and takes a sharp breath. “No. Let's do this.”

“You sure?” Olivia puts one gloved hand onto her mother's arm.

Nodding, Hannah settles her hand over Olivia's. “Yeah.”

“Alright,” Olivia gives her arm a little squeeze she can't feel through the armor and lets go. She stands next to Zaeed and Garrus at the elevator doors. “We're gonna be on Giant, which is a pretty big map. So if all else fails – run the other way.”

“That's your last piece of advice?” Hannah steps up onto the elevator platform with the others. The elevator rises into the arena.

Olivia shrugs and the map starts to load around them. “Works every time. Good hunting.” She taps each of the guys on the shoulder.

“Good hunting,” Garrus and Zaeed echo, giving Olivia and each other the same pat. They take off to set up on opposite sides of the map.

Hannah turns and again finds her daughter grinning beside her as the drone counts down to the beginning of wave one. “Am I going to hate this?”

“Probably,” Olivia says, and motions for Hannah to crouch down behind a crate. “Shoot at the stuff that shoots at you, run when we tell you, and it'll all be over in less than twenty minutes.”

Hannah takes a deep breath as cannibals start to spawn.

***

Three matches in and she gets the hang of it. It even starts being a little fun. The others rack up medals and points and headshots, but Hannah gets a little less scared, a little more willing to run out of cover, as they keep going.

“That doesn't count,” Garrus says as he and Olivia stand beside a smoking ravager corpse.

“Why not?”

“It doesn't have a head. You can't get a headshot on something that doesn't have a head.”

“Zaeed,” Olivia says into their comms, “we need a judgment call here. Oh,” she gently pulls Hannah back, away from the corpse. “Don't stand in ravager blood.” There's a look in her eyes that tells Hannah she tried that once and it ended badly.

“Did the arena record it as a headshot?”

Olivia pulls up the kill feed on her omnitool as the next wave starts to spawn. “No.”

“Then it doesn't count.”

“I got it right in the center circle thing!”

Hannah starts to fidget. There are enemies – on the other end of the map, but enemies heading their way – and these three are just standing around in the open arguing the validity of a headshot. She ducks behind a container.

“Doesn't count,” he repeats.

“Oh, stop,” Olivia scolds. She turns around and shoves her omniblade into the husk that had been hitting her. “Fine, the ravager shot doesn't count.”

As the others seem unconcerned by the banshee or the brutes headed their way, Hannah begins to realize just how easy they've been taking it. This – lazy enemies with grenades that hardly touch her shields, one banshee at a time – is not their reality.

It's not her daughter's reality, which stirs up something low and scared at the base of her spine.

“Make it harder,” she says when the match is over.

“You sure?” Zaeed asks.

Hannah nods. “Yeah.”

Silently, Olivia bumps it to silver.

A match later, Hannah has to watch from her visor's spectator mode as Olivia solos the back half of wave ten. A lot of things went sideways: Zaeed got slammed into the floor by a brute, Garrus got picked up by a banshee, and she got eaten by a cannibal before she had a chance to revive herself.

(It was for the better. She'd be useless to Liv anyway, probably a liability. They got all the devices activated, at least.)

The arena camera cuts to a front angle of Olivia, who doesn't look scared or even challenged while she works on the two banshees. Mostly she looks bored. Bored and a little hungry.

Olivia takes cover around a door and reloads her Black Widow. With a centering breath, she pops around the corner. In two final shots, both banshees scream and fall. She grins, blows imaginary smoke off the end of her rifle, and winks at Garrus as he stands up and dusts himself off.

This still isn't Olivia's reality.

Hannah swallows, hard.

She pauses behind the others as they get off the elevator after the match. “What does it look like when you're actually fighting?”

Olivia freezes and slowly turns around. “What do you mean?”

“When you're out there, fighting. What's it like?”

There's a look that passes between Olivia and Zaeed. It's a heavy look, a protective look, a we agreed not to tell her about this look, and it nearly makes Hannah cry.

“Tell me,” she insists.

“It's usually like gold. Sometimes the single-enemy platinum waves,” Olivia says softly. Her eyes briefly flick sideways – she's lying, understating reality to make her mother feel better.

“Can we,” Hannah's throat is suddenly dry and it has nothing to do with the exercise. She swallows. “Can we try that?”

It's suddenly become very important that Hannah knows what her child faces when she jumps out of a shuttle.

A look passes between all three of them this time, but it's less heavy, more calculating. Can we carry her through this?

Hannah's dead weight and she knows it, but as the seconds tick past, this becomes more and more something that she has to do. She needs to know that she can stand in front of the same things Olivia can. She runs a fucking bakery, but there's no way in hell she's okay with her kid being out there, trying to save a galaxy that seems hell bent on not being saved, when she can't even face Olivia's daily life when it's presented to her in a holographic combat simulator.

“I soloed Platinum a couple times,” Olivia says, breaking the brief silence.

Hannah hears the translation: we'll be fine. The two men shrug and nod in agreement.

“We can do gold, but in a couple days. I think we're done for the night.”

Without another match in front of her, Hannah realizes how exhausted she is. Olivia, Garrus, and Zaeed look like they could go a few more rounds, but they're career soldiers. She works out regularly, but she's not nearly in the shape they are. She nods as she turns her back to Zaeed so he can help her unseal her armor. “Okay.”

Hannah doesn't see the look on Olivia's face.

The one that begs him, Please talk her out of this, I don't want her to know.

#hey it turns out i've been working on this one for seven years #so it feels good to hit post finally #and yes there is absolutely more of it in a later card #s:long live #s:2021 #livfic #s:words

[duskroads]

Angie build update for the Donna cosplay Part 2

Part 1 Part 3

Ok so I probably should have updated this some time last week considering how much got done on this last week but I just did not have time til now.

This is probably gonna get long because of that so here’s a readmore

So last week I was visiting my family and it ended up being me and my dad working on this in his workshop for the most part (there’s other parts than just the above picture that didn’t take the whole week).

The picture above is the frame that I built, Dad has a ton of coat hangers that I stole both for this and for the arms and legs. 

The ones he has are this yellowy brassy colour from the drycleaners and I was like, perfect I can just use those they’d work really well colour wise for her joints. But dad pointed out that the colour was just a coating and he was worried that it wouldn’t do well in the oven, one heat test involving a meat thermometer and a very large heat gun he has for lighting his barbeque we found that while it looks fine in the heat, it get soft so it rubs right off afterwards. Cue me sanding a whole lot of coat hangers down.

The main thing that we were working on while I was there was the mechanisms for puppetting the head.

(See when Dad takes a photo he bothers to clear the space before hand lol)

The handle sits inside the bottom of the frame with the aluminum pipe we’ve been calling her spine goes up to just under the head, the fiddly bits beside it slot into the front of the pipe and go up the tube (they’re flipped over so it’s easier to see the moving parts).

The sideways Y shaped thing controls the up down movements of the head with my middle and ring fingers, it’s attached to the thick wire behind it with some springs you can’t see from this angle so the head’s resting position is more neutral. 

The piece above it opens and closes the mouth using the piece of fishing line it’s tied to.

I can turn her head back and froth by just rotating the entire spine.

We also got started on the bits that live inside the head.

Sadly we did not get a chance to finish either the controls or the head pieces before I had to leave, partially because the mechanisms were having more hiccups than we expected, and partially cause we just ran out of time. Dad thinks that the wire he was using is bending inside of the tube which might be what’s causing our issues. He’s going to finish it on his own and mail me the parts when he is done.

This means I can’t work on the head until I get those parts but I can start sculpting the rest of the body.

Before I left I also made hair for her. @cinnacorn taught me how to do this (she learned it from a number of doll repainters but hextian in particular, she says that his custom ursula doll video details it best) 

But you take Yarn, unravel it, put in around something in a larks head knot, brush it with a wire brush to really break it apart (if you’ve got a really heavy duty wire brush you can get away without unraveling it first, but if you’re blending colours it’s easier to space things out better if you unravel it), hit it with a straightening iron, trim off the knot, lay it flat on a silicone mat, put some hot glue at the top, while still hot use the edge of the mat to wipe away the excess glue, when it's dry trim away the excess,

Then do it 80+ times over the course of 6 and a half hours with two people working on it (thank you again Ele) to get enough for your giant doll head.

I’m using a light sage green and a grey brown to get that ‘this maybe was blonde once’ look, where it’s more streaky is going to be layered over so it blends better.

It looks super great and if you used colours that were closer together and actually styled it, it totally would look like a person’s hair. However this is a technique that clearly was meant for smaller doll’s heads, not ones as large as I’m making. As it is I ended up needing a bandaid halfway through cause the wire brush was eating the skin on my thumb from pushing the yarn through.

I also got fabric for both Donna and Angie, some from a shopping trip and some from my mother’s stash. (Some of that lace trim is in a Zellers container, which for those of you who aren’t Canadian, Zellers was a chain that closed in 2013 so that was a fun find)

Mom also has a stash of nail polish she uses as a craft supply. Me: Hey mom do you have any dark purple nail polish I can steal Mom: yeah it’s on the bookshelf in the guest room Me: Oh.

(90% of it is drug store stuff so not as expensive as you would think but still, that’s just the purple)

Mom also gave me a crackle paint that I need to experiment with so that’s going to be exciting.

I got home Sunday night and I spent most of the yesterday wrapping the frame in chicken wire.

I now hate chicken wire.

Today I managed to get two coats of the clay on the front and one on the back (need to do them half at a time cause it doesn’t fit standing up in my oven)

Still a few more layers to go, I need to bulid up her upper torso a bit and her shoulders need a lot more on top of them, I should have put more chicken wire there but I was worried about interfering with the spine. I have a piece of the tube to use as a mock up to make sure I don’t do that, but it’s a lot easier to break away the clay when it doesn’t have the wire in it.

I know her hips go really wide here but most of that’s going to be under her dress and I need that space to put my hand, and also so she can have a wide enough base to sit when I put her down.

I might close up her back a little bit more but the farther I go the less I can turn her head. It’s a trade off cause the fabric’s going to be tight on the body and then have just empty space there so it might be more noticeable if I leave it open. Still thinking on that one.

I’ve also cut to length and bent the coat hangers that will go inside her limbs but haven’t got any clay on them yet. A few of them I can get one loop on right now but the rest are going to have to wait until I’m putting it all together.

I did this by wrapping it around a giant nail that my dad and I found in his workshop that we cut down so I could put it in my suitcase, and then put it into a block of wood so I could clamp it to my table.

Then you use some pliers to bend the longer end of the wire so the circle is more aligned with it then wrap the shorter end around it a few times and trim it. I also filed down the sharp point where I cut it cause I’m worried about them catching on her clothing.

This is all fairly easy to do now, we will see how it is when I’m trying to do it with the rest of the limbs already on the wires.

Anyways that’s where I am for tonight, I have the rest of the week off so hopefully I’ll get most of the sculpting done and maybe (maybe) start sanding and varnishing it as well.

#duskroads cosplays #donna beneviento #angie beneviento #resident evil village

[captainkappa]

Fanfic:: Soul Rebel

The first of at least two unrelated trans Din Djarin character studies I have planned. 

This one is all about Din’s relationship with his name, how the Tribe doesn’t use them and how that might affect his thoughts on his birthname.

Title from "True Trans Soul Rebel" by Against Me!

AO3 Link

-=-=-=-=-=-

The Mandalorian gave up his name when he came of age and donned his helmet. All members of the Tribe did the same, taking on titles instead if there was need to differentiate. In the wake of the Purge, secrecy was their survival, their survival their strength.

This is the Way.

The lack of a name never impacted him as he joined the Guild. Everywhere he went, no matter the planet, the dingy bar his bounties usually end up in, it was always “Mando.”

He didn’t think about his name until five years later, when he was leaving Axxilan atmosphere, a disgruntled debtor with him in the cockpit. Her braids had come loose in the ensuing struggle, her clothes askew. She put up such a fight, it would’ve have been easier to bring her in cold, but the pay dropped more than half if she was dead.

Mando rolled his shoulders, muscles pulling where she got him good. This was his first round of bounties he’d taken with the new carbonite chamber he’d had installed. After that fight, he was going to enjoy the hiss of carbonite gas a little more.

Just as he was about to punch in the hyperspace code, the bounty cleared her throat.

“Hey, what was the name on the bounty?”

His hand hovered over the buttons and he turned over his shoulder to look at her. She was looking right at him, brave, considering her hands were in cuffs and Maker knew what was waiting for her when they got back to Nevarro.

She rolled her eyes, straightening up. “Look, I just want to know what to expect. This isn’t my first rodeo and I want to know if these idiots have old information.”

“Why?”

“Because if these guys are going to deadname me the entire time we talk about money I may or may not owe, that requires mental prep.”

Mando blinked behind his helmet, not expecting that answer. He forced his hand to punch in the last of the hyperspace code, deliberately placed it on the arm rest as the stars streaked around them. His hand wanted to thumb the freshly healed scar on his arm, where his hormone implant had been installed a couple months age.

It had taken a while to get to that point, skimming the top off several bounties he brought in to afford it.

(He’d felt terrible about it for weeks, finally kneeling in the Armorer’s forge and admitting what he’d done. She had kneeled across from him and asked if, in pursuing his transition, he had ever broken the Creed. He hadn’t, and was surprised when in response, she went in detail about how surgeries might be difficult, but they could look at options.

He hadn’t known what to say, so the Armorer said it for him.

This is the Way.)

The bounty had started shifting on her feet, uncomfortable with the silence that had permeated the cockpit. Mando pulled out the puck and clocks it on, revealing her rotating holo, “WANTED” in big red text, and the name, Rassina Netel, crawling along the bottom.

She leaned forward, cuffed hands leaning on the seat beside her for support. He watched her eyes flick to-and-fro, reading and rereading the small amount of text. Finally, satisfied, her shoulders dropped, releasing tension.

“Thank you,” she muttered, righting herself so she was standing again.

Mando turned off the puck and slipped it back into his pocket.

“Was it… right?”

Could a name be right? Was that the word for it?

“Yeah, yeah it was.” Rassina rolled her shoulders, shaking out her arms. “Guess it’s my turn in the carbonite, huh? Oh, don’t give me that look. I saw it on the way in, heard through a few friends who’ve been through the process.”

It was only a second’s hesitation before he said, “Ran out of fuel.”

“Oh.”

She looked almost as surprised as when he first walked into town.

“Come on,” he stood up, angling his body away in the small space. “You’re still getting strapped in below.”

The look on her face said “fair enough” as she walked ahead of him, awkwardly climbing down with cuffed hands.

He strapped Rassina in one of the seats that folded out from the wall, hopefully at such an angle she wouldn’t be able to see the bold-faced lie he made in claiming the chamber was out of fuel.

Mando climbed back up to the cockpit, silent in hyperspace, but his head was busy with thoughts of a name he thought he’d left behind.

-=-=-=-

Weeks later, with coordinates plugged in for his next bounty and carbonite chamber empty and waiting, he retreated into his small bed on board to hopefully catch some sleep.

It was a fool’s errand. There was anticipation in his veins even though it would be some time before he was out of hyperspace. He settled on closing his eyes, falling into somewhere between awake and asleep.

His thoughts wandered and he wasn’t concerned with pinning one down. The Guide, the Tribe, the foundlings, his name-

The thought was sudden, like someone screamed it in his ear, forcing his eyes open.

I want to keep my last name.

He stared up at the short ceiling. It was like being woken from a nightmare, yet also like coming home. His chest stuttered, rising and falling as competing thoughts wrapped around his brain.

The Tribe doesn’t have names, he gave his up when he put on the helmet.

But his last name was a comfort, even if the same couldn’t be said for his first name, something that he should have no use for now.

He sat up, gloved hands raking through brown curls. There was no way he was going to get sleep now.

He shuffled out of his bed. There was probably some weapon that needed cleaning.

-=-=-=-

Thoughts on his first name came and went. He avoided them when he could, distracting himself with work and other tasks.

The Razor Crest had never looked cleaner, even if the bags under his eyes grew.

He lost himself in fights, brought more bounties in cold, but one fight had his cuisse cracked. He got the bastard who did it, shoving them harder than needed in the carbonite. He returned to the Tribe, money in one hand, broken armor in the other.

The Armorer and he nodded in greeting.

“You’re lucky,” she said, inspecting the damage, “there’s another cuisse in need of repair. Both can be fixed now.”

Mando stilled as the Armorer began. The melting of metal, the blaster fire from droids, the clanging of her hammer against beskar, the screams of people around him, sounds and images filled his mind. It was a feeling he should have been used to.

But this time, he stayed stock still, finally unable to avoid the question that has been rolling around in his head since he admitted he wanted to keep his last name.

Am I abandoning my parents if I give myself a new first name?

Some of their last words were his name, the name they gave him. The last name was theirs as well, but his first name was chosen for him. What would it mean to give that name up?

The sounds of the hammer reverberated through him.

He brought one hand up, tracing where he knew the implant was in his arm. He thought of the part of himself he considered selfish, the part that forced him to think of how he felt about his body, his mind. That part of him asked if his parents would want to see him burdened under the name that was no longer his.

He could do this for himself, something no one needed to know about.

The Armorer handed him a new cuisse, half maroon, half silver, and Mando thanked her.

-=-=-=-

Time passed.

He chose a name. A name he whispered to himself before going out on bounties, before entering the Armory, before going to bed.

A name all his, that fit him like newly minted beskar.

-=-=-=-

When Mando heard Moff Gideon call out a name that wasn’t his – had never been his, if he was being honest – his blood ran cold.

It wasn’t the knowledge that Gideon knew his birth name - Gideon was an ISB agent during the Purge, of course he’d know his birth name – it was the looks Cara and Greef gave him, confused and curious.

But it wasn’t something he had the luxury to focus on. A web launcher was on their door, Kuiil was not responding, and Mando knew, better than he knew himself, that he would not let Gideon get his hands on the child.

So he swallowed the pain down, explained how he knew who Moff Gideon was, and started working out breaking down the grate.

After that, the day was a blur, more so once the explosion hit him like a starship. It only felt real once the child was back in his arms. He doesn’t want examine how right it felt, having the kid on his hip, looking up at him with those large brown eyes.

He stood on the planes of Nevarro with Greef and Cara, all three exhausted but happy they lived through it all.

Mando moved to take off with his new jetpack, but he stopped, thinking back on what Gideon said.

A Mandalorian was more than a name. A Mandalorian was a Creed and a culture. He gave up his name when he swore the Creed. What he gave himself instead was just for him.

But now, looking at the only two people he could consider friends, after everything they had been through in the past day, he couldn’t leave them with his birth name in their hearts.

He shifted the child in his hold, not knowing if he could understand him as well.

“I know…” he started, biting the inside of his cheek for a moment. “I know you heard what Gideon said back there… but he was wrong. That’s not my name. My name is Din Djarin.”

It felt like his chest plate had fallen off, his heart laid open bare. There was a beat of silence that seemed to stretch on forever and every anxiety he had about speaking the words pools forth.

Greef broke the silence with a slap on the back. “Well Din, just know you’re welcome back any time. Your pick of the lot.”

“Yeah,” Cara said, breaking into a smile, “and that name fits way better.”

He nodded to them, unable to better translate the smile beneath his helmet. He tilted his helmet down to the child, who looked at him with a smile.

Din didn’t have the words to describe how he felt, so he shifted his grip again.

“You ready to go, kid?”

The kid responded with an enthusiastic coo as Din powered up the jetpack.

#din djarin #trans din djarin #any transphobia will be blocked #obviously i shouldnt have to say that #also obviously this is just my interpretation if you have diff ideas go nuts #the mandalorian #kappa writes #my fanfic #star wars #sw

[mcrmadness]

Madness draws: Behind the Scenes of the latest Farin&Bela pencil drawing.

Aka the one that’s also my icon, even when that was a big risk to take because normally I start hating the photos I have once drawn, especially if I have failed miserably. This is how the drawing itself turned out:

ATTENTION: The original post about that drawing, with better image, behind this link.

This post is solely about the process itself with lots of pictures and also plenty of gifs, because I promised to do one if people would like to see that and I got some comments saying that they’re looking forward for that. So, here’s now that post!

For starters I have to apologize for the terrible quality that is the photos. I used my phone camera only and never thought about posting them, I just took them as a reference for myself and to show the progress to a friend and only after finishing the drawing I noticed that the angle of the camera causes a huge impact on the perspective of the drawing, so I sometimes might have done useless work when I thought some perspective was wrong when it was actually the photo that was wrong and not my work! I mean, take a look at these photos of the finished piece:

You see that? I realized this when I took maybe the second photo of the Farin sheet and looked at it and couldn’t believe my eyes because I didn’t remember drawing his torsto THAT small! And then I looked at the drawing and was like “wtf???” because it looked nothing like in the photo and then it hit me...

Also, another thing that I learn was that I might need to pay more attention to the perspective of the whole thing also because when I draw, I sit at the table so I am constantly seeing the drawing from my perspective instead of looking at it from above so that’s probably also going to affect the way I draw. I try to keep that in mind in the future so I can avoid redrawing things again and again just because my perspective is different than the reference photo’s.

Also the giant forehead of Farin’s in the photo on the right might have caused me to laugh a bit too much but anyway, let’s continue~ Or more like: let’s start for real this time.

Here’s the reference photo to y’all:

What I did in photoshop was to draw a line between them to see how I can divide the photo on two A4 papers. I had been thinking about this photo for some time already because it’s one of my favorites (but now I just feel cringy looking at it after I have drawn it... goddamnit!), and I got this idea that I could try drawing it on two papers in case I fuck up so I can start over or try again without having to do twice the work! Which was actually a good decision because this was the first version of Farin:

And it was awful. I also realized I had never drawn Farin’s face from he front. I have drawn him before from the side a few times but maybe once it came out actually good so that was why I decided to do the 2 paper method - because I knew it was not going to be an easy job! Bela is relatively easy to draw so I knew already that I would not have too many problems with that one.

I struggled with Farin’s eyes the most, at first.

It took me a while to figure out how to do that white line in his lower lid. Keep in mind that this was my first face portrait in over 10 years so I was very, very rusty and I just didn’t remember how to draw like anything anymore. (The photo is tilted because Bela’s face is a bit tilted and my hand can’t draw anything that is not straight [lol] so I have to rotate the photo in order to even draw the sketch of Bela’s eyes.)

So I took my sketchbook and tried to do some eyes...

I was still struggling so much here until I remembered about blending. And I didn’t have my hopes high but grabbed the eyeshadow applicators (my fave tool for blending) anyway, and switched to my other sketchbook in case the paper was the issue and:

Blending. It was all about blending! So with that in mind, I realized I can continue and I don’t need to do these in my old way, everything doesn’t have to have a lineart done but some of the job is done not with the pencils but with the eraser.

Anyhow, the previous Farin looked really bad and was too big as well so I just discarded that and started a new sheet because the old lines were not coming off properly anymore. I don’t remember if this is the old face or new but I think this might still be the old one:

Yes it definitely is the old because look at those lines! This is the new sheet:

And in the photo you can see one of my pencils - I use Derwent Graphic pencils, it’s a 12 pencil set with very soft pencils, starting with H, F and HB and ending to 9B. With this one I used F, HB, B, 2B, 5B, 7B and 9B. The white pencil is actually my new love aka the eraser pencil Koh-I-Noor Hardmuth. It’s amazing, I recommend! I just didn’t order 10 new ones this other day. I actually used about 1,5 full eraser pencils on this drawing alone so that’s why 10.

Here’s a “little” gif of the process on Farin:

I felt crazy when I went for the shirt, and I felt like I was going crazy MEANWHILE drawing it but in the end I did it and I’m super proud of it!

Below is the reference photo, it was pain in the ass to follow all those lines with my eyes and try to find what was I drawing and where was I but I think I did good. That was a fun challenge.

Okay so, when I was done with the new lineart, I decided to go for the shading and blending because that’s what really makes the drawings to pop. I started with the left (his right, my left) side of Farin’s face because I’m right-handed, and in the first photo I had done just the left (right) eye and mouth and nose, but in the second there’s also the other eye done already:

Keep in mind this was not the last time I drew the eyes. Not even close.

Something was off with the right (left) eye so I had to do that one again and I noticed that when you blend but haven’t erased and cleaned it yet, it looks like a black eye :DDD So here’s the before and after images of that cleaning. (Cleaning = I draw, blend, erase, draw and blend more when needed and then erase again, and repeat this as many times as I need until it starts to look ready to my eye.)

So here Farin was “finished” but if you still remember the final piece or compare it to it, you might notice it looks quite different. And you’re right. But more about that later, because at this point I started to work on Bela.

It actually started really well - I also had to do the whole lineart again because it did not match the size of “finished” Farin. I don’t remember if this is the first or second eye but when I had drawn his eye for the first time, I noticed it was not in line with Farin so I had to redraw it. A gif of the progress:

What’s that brown paper I’m using, you may ask? Well I noticed that people have some sort of paper on top of their art to keep it from smudging and I have no clue what that is so here’s my poor artist recommendation: baking paper! I tested it and it works (if you just remember to keep it under your hand, that is...) so that is, in fact, baking paper! :DD

I have drawn Bela’s face a few times before and he’s just so much easier to draw. In fact I used 4-5 days on Farin but I managed to start and finish (this version of) Bela just in one day. And that means that out of 12 hours (because I literally used the whole day for drawing) I used maybe like... 5h or something on Bela. That’s how much easier he really is to draw.

I don’t know wtf is wrong with Farin’s face but he’s extremely difficult to draw and I’m not the only one who has been saying this. I guess he just looks so regular but still unique enough to be difficult to draw. Bela then again has features that are very unique and very... caricature-like? I mean that just by drawing his nose or chin you can make a comic book Bela look exactly like himself, and with more realistic style his eyes already do a lot, but Farin’s really the opposite. My comic book version of Farin is literally the most basic version I can draw, it’s how I draw those characters and the only thing that makes him look himself is the hair, and his nose in a side profile. So I think that’s why it’s so difficult to draw him because he doesn’t look too regular but still regular enough to make is a very challenging task to do properly.

So yeah, the same day as I started working on Bela, I was also “finished” with the drawing:

Also look at how different it looks like from this perspective:

With the reference photo open in photoshop and I don’t understand how Bela looks more like himself in my drawing than in the photo. Also when I showed the WIP to my brother, he said that I somehow had succeeded at making Farin look more like Farin than what he does in the photo even. It’s weird.

But we were still far from finished. I was going to use the fixative on this soon but it just kept snowing the whole week so I couldn’t so every time I walked past the drawings, I stopped to fix this and that. For days I kept telling myself “I’m done, I can’t do more than this, I can’t do better than this.” and considered the drawing finished but still kept fixing things. Every time I was “done” with the other drawing, I saw something to fix in the other one and once that was done, I felt like the first one wasn’t as good and had to fix something from it too. And that led to a cycle where the other drawing was always better than the other and the worse one needed to be fixed. In the end I was hating the whole process and myself and my skills and I was already ready to abandon this whole thing and call it a day and never ever show it to anyone “because I cannot draw”. The photo above, here’s a list of things I redrew after that:

Bela’s eyes, the right (left) one at least twice.

Bela’s nose.

Bela’s mouth a couple of times.

Farin’s eyes x588045028520

And a list of things I kept fixing and fixing:

Bela’s chin.

Bela’s neck shadows.

Bela’s hairline.

Farin’s whole face was tilted so I tried to fix that.

Farin’s face was too wide, which meant also partially redrawing the ear.

Farin’s hair was too long and wide too.

Farin’s nose.

Farin’s mouth might be the only thing I drew only once and I’m actually still extremely proud of how it came to be. I did the lips solely with blending so that was super exciting to notice how I can use it for drawing and don’t need the pencils for everything!

During Bela’s eyes and nose and mouth especially I was hating myself so much and I felt like I was taking the risk of ruining the whole thing and a few times I was certain that was what I had just done too, until I somehow was able to save it again. But because of that, I wasn’t able to make Bela’s mouth any lighter anymore, the color wasn’t just coming off the paper so had to use what was there and make it look like it’s how it’s supposed to be, too.

Here’s a gif about those changes on Bela - the first one has the old eyes and nose, the others have minor changed on the nose and mouth:

(The blacks probably don’t get any blacker in reality, I did add more color to it all the time but mainly it’s just the lighting and my phone camera changing the brightness.)

I did the final details on his nose without even using the reference photo anymore. The photo didn’t seem to make any sense anymore at all so I was just using my mechanical pencil and the blending tool and eraser to make is look better. To my eye it looked more like a very flat nose with a big tip of the nose and he doesn’t have a flat nose and I tried to get rid of that illusion. I still feel like it makes him look bit weird but I’m not entirely sure how. Maybe it was because of my improvisation, idk...

So, Bela was then finally finished for the last time. In the Farin piece his left (right) eye had been bugging me the whole time and I didn’t want to touch it but still I felt like I have to do something about it because it was bugging me way too much. I then figured I could draw the eye line by line and take a photo of it each time to see if it looks right already or not, maybe I could then avoid doing all the phases before I was sure what to think about it. I mean, now the only way to see if it was correct was to draw e.g. an eye from start to finish, I couldn’t see from just the lineart or unblended eye if it was in the right spot etc. And here’s that progress on a gif:

The gif about only the eye would look so nice if Tumblr didn’t make the gifs so HUGE - this one is actually only 300px or 400px or something:

Apparently I also wasn’t happy with the other eye because:

But good thing is: I really enjoy drawing eyes. I love seeing them to “come alive”, my favorite part was to eraser a bit of the color on the iris to make them look like they are actually shiny! It feels like something so small to do and yet it makes a huge impact on the drawing!

And here’s yet another gif of the whole Farin sheet with all of the changes, including the last changes that made his head narrower, and less tilted and more in line. Look at the left side of his head especially to see that:

I can also see his nose changing between the first few photos. I keep forgetting about that but yeah, I also fixed that a little at some point.

And last but not least, the whole drawing in some sort of a timelapse gif:

Last two are the same but just a photo and the scan of the finished drawing. I still keep seeing things I would do differently but no can do, I already used fixative on it, also to keep myself from obsessing with it any more :D And to use it as a study of some sort. I have never been able to draw a perfect pencil drawing and this isn’t one either. I probably never can draw perfect drawings from references.

I do enjoy the whole shading and blending process, so much so that when I was editing these photos, I just wanted to start drawing something so bad but I also figured that I start to lose motivation when I get to the point where everything should be finished but I just can’t make it perfect. Like the current WIP I have, all I should do is to get the proportions and perspective and the lines of their faces correctly and I would be ready but it feels more like a superpower some people possess and I’m not one of those. I don’t know what is it but I just feel that I cannot see. I don’t know how to explain it, but I can’t see what I try to do and somehow keep drawing everything the wrong way. Just like in this post’s drawing too. There’s still things that are wrong and I know what it is but I don’t know how to solve it. My hands just don’t listen to me and they can’t do what I think they should. I also think the reason I cannot draw perfect copies of photos is because you can always see my “handprint” in them. If I copy a photo, it will look like a photo and not like a drawing made by me. So I believe that in my drawing there’s always a part of me visible and I’m not entirely sure if it’s a good thing or not. On bad days it’s not a good thing, obviously. On good days? Well I guess it’s good then because it just means I have my own style which I really should appreciate. But I wish I had my style only when I want it to be visible, but I can’t control it. Just like I cannot write text by hand that would look like it was written with a computer, so I guess I should just try to get used to it, no matter how much it’d bug me sometimes.

#mcrmadness draws #mcrmadness draws: behind the scenes #dä fanart #die ärzte

[bluedemon1995]

Hope you like this latest chapter. I think, I'm almost done with this one. Please comment and let me know what you think. I'Ve gone back to rotating my focus so hopefully you follow all my stories!

Pidge POV

While everyone is busy planning Pidge can't keep her eyes off Matt. His hair is longer than hers, pulled back in a messy pony tail. She vaguely remembers her mom scolding him and saying she was going to cut his hair if he didn't go with dad to the barber. It's funny how memories are popping up now when he's right in front of her. He has a scar on his forehead but otherwise looks very similar to her. Same eye color, same hair. Hell, his is probably nicer than hers.

It's like she's in some strange alternate universe. But if she being honest... it was also very scary. Because, if one thought about it rationally, everything she thought she knew for the last ten years was a lie.

Everything.

She wasn't alone. She wasn't an orphan. And isn't that the rub. She could've had a family, all this time. It could have been her and Matt. It makes her sad to think what she missed out on. Birthdays, holidays, or anniversaries of the accident. Where she suffered alone. And even when Lotor was with her he never really understood. He never realized what she felt or was going through. And looking back, she could see he didn't even really try to pretend for her either. And that just made her feel so much more alone.

At some point she would just hide away in her room and work herself to sleep. She felt like she was in a tunnel suddenly, with her breath hiccuping and her vision wavering. Oh God, she can't breathe.  She had to get up. She had to move. But then she ... felt an arm slip around her shoulders and pull her close. Warmth. Heat. Her heart rate started to sync...Keith. He was here. He was real.

And she didn't care that he was FBI or law enforcement. Because with him she didn't feel alone.

She was not alone. She turned in his arms and just held on. It's funny how someone she only knew for such a short period of time could mean so much to her. Yet here she is. Surrounded by people who are on her side. And Keith.

Re-centered, she focused back onto the conversation going on around her. Glad for once there were so many people in the room. It was a few hours after the big reveal and while Keith's apartment was cramped with so many people, for once it didn't make her feel like running or hiding away. Hunk had prepared a spaghetti dinner complete with homemade bread and salad. It was hilarious when Lance questioned Keith having the ingredients for bread and Hunk sheepishly admitted to stocking his pantry, 'for emergencies'.

When she looked at Keith, he whispered, "I didn't even know I had a pantry!"

And when Lance was outraged that he didn't have a stockpile. Hunk replied that since Lance technically still lives at home, his mom has their place well stocked! Then there was Krolia and Kolivan. Kolivan finally returned with his report and Pidge could see how he'd fit in the the biker gang image. He was a tough guy but when he spoke he was so quiet and calm. It just inspired her trust in him.

Then of course, there was Matt. He was nearby, constantly finding excuses to touch her arm, hand or shoulder. It was odd. She wasn't a touchy freely person and yet, she was so happy that he seemed happy to have found her too. Despite what she had been involved in. Finally dinner in hand, they  were seated all around various parts of Keith's living room.

Finally, I voiced a concern that was nagging at me. "Shiro, have we ever...met? I feel like I recognized your voice somehow? Or even your...shape?"

Matt replied, loudly, "Shiro and I were gaming friends long before we ever met. So, I would be playing games with him and you'd be in my room. So you probably did hear him but I don't think you ever saw him. But after the accident and rehab, I mentioned I needed to go to school and he convinced me to go to the same school as him. So, with nothing left to lose I did. I have a family picture of us, so Shiro has seen you before. Plus, let's be honest, we sorta look alike."

Pidge nods, "That makes sense. Unfortunately that's about the only thing that does."

Matt counters, "Okay, now that we are fed. We need to focus. Plan. I'm betting Lotor's dad is behind this. But Katie, do you think Lotor knew as well?"

She thought about it but replied, "Probably not. His dad does not respect him and they aren't close. At all, so I cannot imagine him telling a pre-teen Lotor anything. Maybe he encouraged him to be my friend but nothing overt."

Shiro nods, "Okay so why?"

Everyone is quiet, thinking.

Keith POV

"Let's take it from a slightly different angle. How did Zarkon benefit? He's pretty self serving. There is no way he didn't get something out of this."

Matt picks up, "Yeah, I'm thinking it has to do with the project my dad was working on. Some kind of weapon. I know once he died, the project did too."

Keith counters, "Then why separate you two? What are we missing? What does Zarkon desire or want?"

"Money, every bad guy wants money." stated Lance firmly.

Hunk countered, "Power, he likes to be the big kahuna. Maybe this weapon would have cost him that."

More answers were kicked around when Pidge interjects, "Control. From what I see Zarkon lives for control. In every aspect. So by causing the accident, he needed to control for the outcome or at least several outcomes. No one could have predicted Matt would be thrown from the car or I would be stuck in it. Let's be honest, people survive accidents all the time. But he prepared for all possibilities. Sooooo, that means he got something out of it. But what did he gain control of? I didn't get any money. Or things.”

Keith guesses, "Maybe he knew that the weapon mission would fail but he also knew that your dad got much farther than maybe he imagined. Do we know what the weapon was?"

Matt replied, "I tried looking into it but I couldn't get further than it was a top secret project. I've hacked into several sites over the years looking for more data but it's very cryptic. In fact it doesn't even sound like a weapon at all. More like an organic compound really. So

"That's it!! I remember mom being a gardener but really she was probably a botanist. So Zarkon has control of all drugs running in and out of Galra City. And if anyone wants in they need to bow to him. He's expanded his network and this is what Lotor was trying to beat him at. Althea. But what if there was a way to diminish his hold? What if they created something that was a weapon only in the hand of the Garrison or police? I remember her telling me that nothing is untraceable. And no one is untouchable.”

Krolia speaks up, "Zarkon has a big footprint. If we could know what drugs are his and track it someway, it would go a long way in stopping the flow. But his network of them getting the drugs into the country is, well a mystery. If we could figure that out. Well, that would be a game changer."

Everyone is quiet. Finally, Katie looks up, "So Matt, I think you need to show me what you have. If our parents were killed over this, well, they had to be close."

Matt nods, "Definitely."

Hunk interjects, "Uh, I could probably help. I'm really good at making things or finding patterns."

Keith grins, "Well, while you guys figure the item, why don't the rest of come up with a battle plan or trap?"

#katie holt #keith kogane #kidge #keith and pidge #keith x pidge #pidge and keith #alternate realities

[bundleofyarrow]

Bundle of Yarrow Chapter 7 is up!

Your adventure continues! Spending your last days in the Wild Area with Milo before you get to Motostoke. But so many feelings have gone unspoken. What will come out before you have to part ways? Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29087343/chapters/72689874 or below the cut! Comments and feedback always welcome <3

West Lake Axewell

The first thing you notice is how incredibly quiet it was. If you were next to a body of water in Alola, it was almost certainly the ocean, rolling in from the distance, rhythmically crashing against the shore. As you look to the gigantic lake, its stillness shook you. Underneath the overcast sky it was almost eerie, with the only movement being the occasional water Pokemon breaking the surface. Your body wanted to shiver, but it’s wasn’t really that cold, just grey and silent. The breeze seemed to rustle the tall grass more than wild Pokemon.

“Quite the sight, huh?” Milo was looking out at the lake also as the both of you approached it. “One of the few flat areas in Galar, you can see straight across.”

He was right, though you can’t really make out much given the fading light and how cloudy it is. But you do see the walls of a large city, making you pause a bit. You forgot that civilization existed for a while, what with all the dangers of the Wild Area. Who lets kids, much less anyone without experience, just waltz in here?

“Is that…?”

“Yep, that there’s Motostoke! The city gates are pretty much on the opposite side of the lake from us.”

So close, yet so far. You let out a little sigh.

“You alright? Leg botherin’ ya?” The concern in his voice creates a funny feeling in your stomach.

You put out your leg and rotate your foot in the air. “I think it’s fine, it hasn’t gotten worse at least. It’s more that I haven’t done camping and hiking like this in my entire life. So to get so much of it all at once has been quite the experience.” To put it lightly.

“Definitely havin’ an adventure, aren’t ya?” He offers a smile, because of course his first instinct is to lighten the mood. And it’s nice, you enjoy it.

“You can say that again!”

Milo scans the path in front of you. “I know we’ve been goin’ at it all day, but if we can cross that bridge over there,” He points out to a large wooden bridge that spans the skinniest part of the lake. “and then set up camp, Motostoke is reachable tomorrow.” Milo looks back to you, still concerned. “What do ya think?”

Nodding, you shift the bag on your back to sit more comfortably. “Sounds like a plan! Thanks so much for being my guide Milo, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He looks away, pink tufts of hair blocking his expression from view. “Oh it’s nothin’…” He mumbles out, among other indiscernible words.

The both of you maintain idle chit-chat along the way, mainly you pointing at a Pokemon you don’t recognize and Milo telling you what he knows about it. You get the sense that Milo is a bit of an introvert, and that silence without the pressure to talk is something that comforts him. He fumbles over his words often, but you find that charming. He seems preoccupied with trying to say the right thing, and the right thing tends to come naturally, except when you catch him off-guard. It’s hard not to enjoy watching him get flustered over little things.

As you draw closer to the bridge, you notice that the amount of tall grass in the area is increasing. There’s a clear path forward, but you feel a bit uneasy. Like someone, or something, was watching you. Rustling in the tall grass picked up the further along you went, and you instinctively grasped Milo’s arm. You had been walking without his support for a while now, so Milo jumped a bit in surprise.

“Milo, something is stalking us in the tall grass.”

“H-huh?” When you look over, his head is turned in the opposite direction, like he was avoiding something.

“Wait, what’s the matter? Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m f-fine! Jus’ dandy!”

“Why won’t you look at me? Is something wrong?”

“It’s nothin’! Don’t-”

“PAN!”

A small figure dashed out of the tall grass and right in the path of you and Milo. You actually recognized this one, it was a Pancham. She began to execute a series of martial arts moves, not attacking either of you but clearly it was a show of force. The Pancham ended with a dramatic and aggressive pose, shooting her most intimidating glare at you.

“CHAM!”

Moments pass in silence until you can’t handle it anymore.

You begin to giggle. “It’s adorable.”

The Pancham is clearly shocked at your reaction.

Milo smiles and rubs the back of his neck. “She’s a cutie pie that’s for sure.”

Her head hangs in shame. It seems like the Pokemon really thought she really had the upper hand here.

You walk over and squat down in front of her. “Hey now, don’t be sad! Just because you’re adorable doesn’t mean you’re not also very cool and strong!”

“Pan…?” The Pokemon’s eyes looked up to you, glistening.

“You’re the most fearsome Fighting Pokemon I’ve met in Galar!” Granted, this is the first Fighting-type you’ve met since you arrived, but she didn’t need to know that.

Pancham’s paws went to her hips and she confidently posed with that leaf in her mouth. You slowly extended your hand, and as you didn’t feel like she meant any harm, pet her on the head. She couldn’t help but smile and nuzzle into your hand.

“Something tells me you’re in the mood to play, am I right?”

The Pokemon nods before turning to the side and shadowboxing some more.

“How about this: if you can guide us across this scary bridge,” You gesture to your next destination. “I’ll let you battle with my Pokemon while we set up camp. And I’m sure Milo’s would love to make some new friends too, right Milo?”

You look back to Milo, who is looking down to you with a smile. This smile felt different from his usual, though you couldn’t really pinpoint why.

“You betchya! I have a few achin’ to have some fun.”

“What do you say? Will you help us out? We could use a brave Pokemon like you.”

If the Pancham still had a bruised ego, that was yesterday and now is a brand new day. She turned around and marched towards the bridge, looking about for any dangers to quell.

You rose from your low position, but must have struck a weird angle doing so because your injured leg felt weak. Stumbling and giving out a quick yelp, you felt a sudden pair of hands on your torso.

“Easy there now.” Milo helped you stand. “Leg still actin’ up?”

His hands were both gentle and firm as they helped you balance, and you were definitely blushing feeling him so close.

“Th-thanks Milo.” The Butterfree inside you danced. “It’s not so bad. I’m sure some rest will do it good.”

Eventually he lets you go when it seemed you were stable, and guided you forward behind the Pancham with a light palm on your back. It impressed you how he acted this way so naturally. Not that you were a cold person who ignored others in peril. But it seemed his body just moved like a reflex whenever someone was in need.

“It’s amazing how well you handled that Pancham.” Milo said it more to himself that you, like he was musing about something. “If you don’t end up a trainer, I could see ya as a great Pokemon breeder.” You’ve never considered the possibility before. “We have a Daycare Center right by Turffield, you should visit it sometime!”

“Oh? Is Turffield where you’re from?”

“Born n’ raised!” He beams with pride. "I miss it each time I have to travel. Quite peaceful, and the folk are humble and kind. It may not be a big fancy city but, it's home.”

It isn't long until you all make it to the bridge. The Pancham makes an exaggerated scouting motion, as if trying to scope out any enemies. Satisfied with the safety of the bridge, she waves the two of you to follow her.

The bridge itself feels sturdy, which is a relief because it's quite long. You can see from here that Lake Axewell is full of powerful looking Pokemon, and you'd rather not meet any by falling in. Crossing the bridge went by rather uneventfully, mostly Milo sounding homesick through how he described Turffield to you, and Pancham turning back to look at you both, as if she really did feel responsible for ensuring your safety.

You realized this was the most Milo has talked without prompting since you both met, bubbling with enthusiasm when you asked him questions about his hometown. It’s almost like you finally found the thing that let down his walls a little bit. It was easy for Milo to come off as polite and well-mannered, but before now you had a creeping fear he was just being nice because that was the normal thing to do.

“Now you have to come n’ visit. All my Wooloo will love ya’.” But this made you feel a little better.

Once across the bridge, the colors of dusk were full in the sky. Thankfully it was easy enough to find a clearing nearby to set up camp. You let out your Pokemon to play with Pancham, only to have Wooloo and Yamper tackle to you the ground, giving you their excited and excessive versions of affection. Between your fits of giggles, you realize that your Pokemon probably felt your distress, but you left them in your bag and they were unable to get out.

“I missed you all too, I’m sorry it’s taken so long for you all to come out- ack, Yamper! Not in my mouth!” You can’t help but laugh as you sit up and hug your excited Pokemon. “And don’t forget to acquaint yourselves with Lotad!” The two scamper over to Vanillite and Lotad, who are chatting. You notice your Pancham guide acting a bit bashful to the side. “Now don’t be shy, everyone’s friendly! You all, make room for a new friend!” You gently push her towards your Pokemon, who let her join in.

The sound of opening Pokeballs draws your attention to your left, where you see three Pokemon floating around Milo. Two of them are the same species, though one seems incredibly stronger than the other. He’s gently petting them and whispering hellos.

“Go on, introduce yourselves.” They ride the breeze over to you, giggling and twirling around you. These must be native to Galar, or at least missing from Alola’s ecosystems, because you’ve never seen them before.

“This redhead here is Gossifleur,” Milo began, anticipating your question. Gossifleur spun as if on cue. “and these two elegant cotton balls are Eldegoss.” Both bowed towards you. The Gossifleur and one of the Eldegoss went over to join the other Pokemon, who were starting to play. “This one gave that Seismitoad a what-for when you were in trouble.” Made sense, he seemed way more experienced and skilled than any of the other Pokemon present.

You smiled and bowed as well. “I am in your debt. If you ever need me to sneak you treats past Milo, just give me the word.”

“H-hey now…” Milo put his hands to his hips as the Eldegoss twirled and giggled some more.

The two of you began to set up camp and the Pokemon romped and battled with each other. You were kind of relieved that your Pokemon could fight without direction, calling out orders in battle felt weird. If your Pokemon could fight more instinctively, that would would help out in future encounters.

First you helped Milo get his tent up, which his elder Eldegoss rested on top of the moment you finished. Then you looked around for sticks and dried up driftwood, since this area had less trees than the others you’ve camped at so far. You spot Milo squatting down at the coast of the lake and pulling up roots of some sort. Eventually you make it back to camp and begin stacking the wood, and Milo returns with what looks to be vegetables just washed in the lake.

“So for dinner, I’m thinkin’ I’ll-”

“Oh no no.” You interrupt, taking the roots from him. “You have been working so hard taking care of me. Let me do something for you.”

This catches Milo by surprise, which makes him a bit flustered. You realize that he does a lot so naturally that it must rattle him when something unexpected happens.

“But I don’t m-mind! You’re hurt ‘n all.”

“How about you start the fire, then check in on the Pokemon and make sure everyone’s playing nice?”

He blinks a few times before showing you a bit of an embarrassed smile. “M’kay, only if you promise to holler if you need help.”

“Promise.”

You borrow Milo’s paring knife while he takes out some flint for fire-making. Along with the roots you have mushrooms that you picked in the Dappled Grove and the berries that survived the trip from the Rolling Fields. You bring the root up to your nose and smell it, immediately jerking it away when you get a strong pungent, bitter smell.

“I can go find something else if you want-”

“Milo.”

He looks a little startled. “Y-yes?”

You see that the fire is growing and should be fine for cooking in due time. You point over to where the Pokemon are hanging out. “Go play.” Milo almost scrambles over to the group, and you smile a bit as they cheer and involve him into their activities. You can hear some giggling from behind you, likely his Eldegoss still perched on the tent.

Turning back to the ingredients in front of you, it’s likely the meal will have to be centered around the pungent root and mushrooms. The root will have to be peeled and well-grilled to begin tempering the bitterness, meaning you will likely grill the mushrooms as well. They would be okay together, but need a little more balancing… You sift through the berries in your bag until you find what you’re looking for: persim berries. Cooking this into the roux of the curry is bound will downplay the bitter elements of the root and allow the mushrooms to shine a bit more.

Grabbing a pot Milo brought with him, you head down to the lake. Milo looks like he’s about to say something to you, but the Pokemon tackle him for his attention. You fill it with water and return it to the fire, beginning prep work as it begins to boil. You put in the rice and eventually make the curry with persim paste. As all that cooks, you take a small break as everyone is making some noise and you see a bright light flash from the center of the group. Lotad was evolving, and you got to be the first to congratulate her as you hug your new Lombre. She seemed a lot more relaxed in this form, and looking around, it seemed like your Pokemon were training and tiring themselves out. You’ll have to check and see if they learned any new moves later.

Returning to the fire, you set up makeshift skewers so you can grill all the sliced mushrooms and root that you can. Once everything is done cooking you make plates for Milo and yourself by creating a bed of rice, scooping on the persim curry, and topping it all with the grilled root and mushrooms. Then you set out the rest for the Pokemon, calling everyone over to eat.

Milo and the Pokemon bound over enthusiastically to grab their helpings. Milo beams when you hand him his plate. In your periphery, you notice the Pancham acting shy again. “You didn’t come all this way just to look at others eat did you? Come, join your friends!” It seems like all she needed was permission because she bolted over immediately to eat with the rest of the Pokemon.“This is great!” Milo was shoveling in his dinner, he must have been hungrier than he let on. “I’ve never had such a well-considered meal while camping.”

You smiled at his compliment and took a bite yourself. The grilling helped bring out the sweet and savory elements while the curry had a balancing effect, to the point where you were actually enjoying the bitter profile of the pungent root. Not bad for making something out of completely foraged items!

If it wasn’t for everyone starting to quiet down because their mouths were full, you wouldn’t have heard the faint vibrating in your bag. You look over to Milo, who has his mouth full.

“I’m going to answer my phone, sorry if I take a while.”

He nods, clearly wanting to say something but instead focusing on chewing and swallowing his food as you slip towards your bag by the fire. You sit crossed-legged with your curry in your lap, and fish your phone from out of your pack. There’s a part of you that still wants to ignore it, but you imagine your tantrum has gone on long enough and it’s time to answer. You tentatively tap on your Rotom Phone and watch the video turned on.

It was Leon. This shocked you a bit since the number was from Sonia’s phone. He wasn’t looking at the phone but at something off camera, like he wasn’t really expecting you to pick up. Which, fair.

“Hi.”

You honestly have no idea what else to say.

There’s a couple seconds of pause as Leon’s eyes slowly move towards the screen and presumably to your face.

“Oh my god.” The way he says your name twists your heart with guilt. He looks a bit ragged, but as you look at his surroundings, you can see that he’s indoors somewhere. As he shifts to sit up, you can make out that he’s probably in a hotel room, flopped down in bed with the TV on in the background, some trainer’s battle statistics being read off. He’s in some casual clothes instead of his jersey, but still has on his trusty snapback. “You’re alive, thank Arceus. You’re alive.”

You close your eyes, already feeling a whirlwind of emotions.

“Leon, I-”“I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry. This was all my fault, please forgive me. Please. Please, I’m sorry.”

The distress in his voice almost startled you. The sincere desperation on his face is clear and unfiltered. A tremor spills through the palm holding your phone.

“No Leon, no. It was me. I’m the idiot here. I need to be the one apologizing.” Your nose sniffles, and the way your senses prickle tell you that tears will soon be on their way. You probably look miserable, and locking eyes with Leon is just making you feel like you’ve been acting like trash these past few days. “I’m so horrified at my behavior, and how I’ve acted. You must have been so worried.”

“I was, I thought, it would be all my fault if something happened to you.” From the sound of his voice, it sounds like Leon is beating you to the crying. “You didn’t answer, not even to yell at me, or tell me to leave you alone, so I couldn’t stop thinking of the worst.” Now come the tears, he doesn’t even pretend to hide them. This only prompted your own to run down your cheeks. “I can be such a bonehead, and insensitive to others, because I’m wrapped up in my own shit. And if you got hurt because I was being a jerk, I just don’t know what I would have done.”

The both of you trade apologies like this for a few more minutes through quiet sobbing. You’re sure the others could sense your emotion but you couldn’t bring yourself to look over.

“Leon, I promise, I’m okay. I only have a small injury and it’s healing well.”“…What? What happened?”

You recount your encounter with the Seismitoad. Leon cursed, and his golden eyes locked onto you fiercely. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

That sounded rather extra, but for some reason, you didn’t mind. You tried to smile through the ugly crying.

“I was lucky that I was saved by a kind stranger camping out in the Dappled Grove. He’s escorting me to Motostoke, I think I could be there by tomorrow.”

There’s an uncomfortable pause, though you’re not sure why it is.

“Do you… feel safe, you know, with him?” Leon looks dead serious.

“My chastity remains unspoiled, dear knight.”

Leon turns red but maintains his serious demeanor. “I hate that you’re still out there. Maybe if I leave now-”“No, Leon, don’t. I know you probably have important champion stuff to be doing. Don’t waste time on me because I’ve been acting like a brat.”

“Don’t say that about yourself. Well, at least, you’re not a waste of time to me.” He cracks a bit of a smirk for the first time this entire call. “Though yeah you’re a brat for all you’ve put me and Sonia through.”

“I deserve that.” Your hand rubs at your face, trying to clear away some of the tears. “I owe you both a big apology. Letting me camp with you all and then just running off like that.”

“Hey, all that matters is that you’re safe.”

Leon’s attention suddenly shifts away from the phone, and he beckons someone over. Sonia’s face squeezes into frame and she immediately starts crying, which makes you cry all over again too.

“We were so worried about you! God I was terrified thinking of you out there all by yourself.” She managed through her tears. “You’re grounded, under house arrest, in detention. I don’t want you missing ever again! This is what happens when I leave you with Leon.”

“H-hey, I was worried too!” The two bicker some, and you all begin to break down into soft giggles, sniffles, and hiccups.

“I promise not to do this ever again. If you all want to send me back to Postwick though, I don’t blame you, I deserve it.”

“Don’t say things like that. We promised to go on an adventure together remember?”

You smiled, remembering your time in Wedgehurst with Sonia.

“I-I want to come on the adventure too…” Leon was pouting.

“When I get to Motostoke, I owe you both apologies, and explanations.” You look down, dreading it but knowing it’s the right thing to do. “You both have been so kind, and are basically my anchor here.” A yawn escapes from your mouth. “I should be in Motostoke tomorrow, don’t worry about me if you both are busy with things.”

Sonia wrestles her phone from Leon’s grasp. “Just keep us updated, okay? We’re staying in the Budew Hotel, but if you make it in time, you can watch Hop and Gloria participate in the opening ceremony!”

Nodding, you tell yourself that tomorrow has to be a hustle so you can make it in time. “It’s a promise.”

You hear Leon mutter something off to the side which catches Sonia’s attention, making her snicker. “The Great Unbeatable Champion Leon has a request~” She deftly dodges a pillow being thrown at her from off-camera. “And really, me too, because I want him to leave my phone alone: can I pass along your number to Leon?”

It seems like not all of the of the calls and texts you got were from Sonia after all. You nod with a small smile. You’re glad that this seems mostly like water under the bridge, though you are still a bit embarrassed about how silly you’ve been acting.

Shifting a bit, you realize that you’ve barely touched your dinner. “Okay, I’m going to go. I can’t wait to see you two tomorrow!”

Leon nudged into the camera frame as they both gave their goodbyes, and soon the call was over. You couldn’t help but give one long exhale, trying to relieve all the tension you’ve been holding in your body. It wasn’t even seconds after you put your phone away that Wooloo, Yamper, and Pancham ran over and pressed into you.

“Aww you guys. Thank you.” You tried to hug them all at once, and saw Milo coming over, chuckling.

“Sorry, I tried to keep ‘em at bay to give you some space.” He extended his hand to help you up from the Pokemon pile that wiggled on top of you. His grip encircled yours, warm.

You picked up your plate of food and returned to the rest around the fire, sitting next to Milo. Your Wooloo nestled against your side as your other Pokemon began to huddle together for warmth and comfort.

“Apologies for taking so long, didn’t mean to ignore you.” You begin to eat your curry. “How’s dinner?”

“Amazin’, you have a good touch for cookin’! The Pokemon were very pleased.”

“And how about you?”

He blinks a few times. “I m-mean, of course I loved it…”It takes all your strength to not smirk or laugh, to not give away how you said that on purpose just to get a reaction from Milo. “I’m glad, I wanted you to feel how grateful I am that you’re as kind as you are.” You look over to him, and even though the only light is coming from the campfire, it’s not hard to see he’s blushing. “I’ve caused you trouble, and I just want to thank you for all that you’ve done for me.”

Milo stammers out some words that you can’t really understand, but you just smile and continue eating as he works through his awkwardness. Guy has to learn to take a compliment, you know?

“Y-you’re welcome though!!” He eventually spits out, desperately scooping at his empty plate trying to seem like he was concentrating on eating still. You hear the telltale giggling of his Pokemon around him. “You guys, s-stop!”

Cracking a smile, you collect all the dinnerware and head down to the lake to wash everything. The moon is covered by clouds, but some of its light shimmers on the surface of the water. The conversation with Sonia and Leon replays through your mind as you wipe off the remnants of dinner. It was surprising that they didn’t tell you off or make you to go home to Postwick. It showed that you were ready to give up when others believed in you. And you needed to see this through, mainly for your own personal growth, but also to respect the time and energy other put into you.

Returning to camp, you come to an almost domestic scene of all your Pokemon and Pancham just huddled in one cute heap and Milo nearby petting Wooloo with one hand while he checks his phone with the other. Sensing your emotions, your Rotom Phone zips out of your pocket and snaps a picture. The camera shutter sound and your subsequent scolding of Rotom alerts Milo to your presence.

“Thanks for takin’ care of the dishes! I feel spoiled.”

“Good.” You smile, hoping Milo doesn’t bring up the fact that your Rotom creeped on him, and set the plates and such into his tent. “Though I bet you’re ready for me to get out of your hair by now I’m sure.”

“Not at all.” He checks the time on his phone. “But if we’re gonna make it to Motostoke before the openin’ ceremony, we should probably hit the hay soon and get up early.” He stretched and yawned, with Wooloo whining a little from the loss of contact.

The both of you rustle around preparing for bed, Milo inside his tent and you rolling out your sleeping bag by the campfire. You’re about to douse the fire when Milo calls for your attention, his head poking out from his tent.

“You’re sleepin’ outside? Aren’t you chilly out here?” He sounds concerned, which makes you feel something all over.

“I imagine you want your tent back to yourself. Plus I got this big pile of Pokemon to keep me warm.” All of your Pokemon are out except for Vanillite, who returned to their Pokeball after no one wanted to cuddle with below freezing body temperatures, with Pancham taking their place. However you would be lying if a reason you decided to stay outside was out of respect for Milo’s relationship with Nessa.

Milo’s brow is furrowed and it seems like there’s a battle going on in his head. “Okay, only if you’re sure…” He pauses. “I really don’t mind i-if y-you…” His voice trails off and you take it as him trying to be polite.

“Don’t worry, you deserve a night off from babysitting me. I can handle this.” …you think.

He eventually accepts your answer, not one to push, and eventually wishes you good night before slipping back inside his tent. You douse the fire and crawl into your sleeping bag, and the Pokemon promptly huddle into the various nooks your body makes sleeping on your side. Turns out having cuddly Pokemon has its practical benefits too. Your eyes were about to close when you heard your phone buzz.

Rotom apologized noting the timing, but you see a text from an unfamiliar Galarian number, and upon opening the message realize it’s Leon.

Hi its Leon! Just texting you so you have my number

You smile, starting to feel a sense of normalcy after all the events in the Wild Area.

thanks~ looking forward to reuniting tomorrow <3

Moving to slip your phone back into a bag pocket, you pause when it vibrates again. You turn the screen towards you and see Leon has already replied. 

I can’t wait I don’t think I’ll be able to sit still until I see you with my own eyes

So much for ‘just’ texting you for saving his number. A part of you admits that you’re a little happy though.

definitely hustling over to Motostoke, planning on waking up early and everything! will you be busy doing things for the ceremony tomorrow?

Your eyes close for only a moment before you get another text from Leon.

Well yes I mean I am the Champion after all ;)

You snort at him capitalizing champion, stirring your Yamper from her sleep for a second before you pet her back into slumber.

Pardon me, your Highness. i come from a land without royalty

Pancham wiggles around in the space behind your knees before breathing out a satisfied sigh.

PLEASE don’t call me that lol sorry I keep forgetting you dont know much about sports

You roll your eyes a bit.

then do enlighten me, Mr. Unbeatable Champion Sir ;)

The screen lights up with an immediate “STOP” text from him, making you giggle. Wooloo bleats a soft noise of concern into your chest, and promptly goes back to sleep when nothing seems wrong.

Nooooo you’re killing me dooooont :( one thing I like about you is that you treat me like a normal human being not like the Champion

You’re not sure if you should read into that text or not.

But anyway I can sneak away whenever Charizard can show me to the city gates. So make sure to text me as you’re arriving and I can meet you!!!! :D

Looks like Charizard is going to be the one guiding you around Motostoke then. 

sounds like a plan! see you tomorrow then~

Leon wishes you a good night, and you finally tuck Rotom into your bag. Closing your eyes, you can’t help but think of how normal that felt. Being out in the Wild Area has really pushed you out of your element, a scary place in a strange region. You’ve never really camped before and now you’ve just spent three days in the wilderness. And now that’s you’re recovering from a near-death experience, it’s time to leave the Wild Area for the rest of your days.

Just as you were about to drift off, you heard the unzipping of Milo’s tent, followed by footsteps and the shuffling of some material against fabric. Your eyes open and head turns as the Pokemon resting against your body shift in response to what they are sensing. It’s almost pitch black, but the light from a Rotom Phone shows someone is lying a sleeping bag down near you.

“…Milo…?”

His silhouette pauses before continuing to slide into his sleeping bag.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake ya.”

You turn your body so you’re completely facing him. The Pokemon grumble when they are disturbed, and now congregate in-between Milo and yourself, with Wooloo shamelessly pressing into Milo’s chest.

“What are you doing out here?”

“It just didn’t feel right lettin’ you sleep out here all by yourself.”

You’re thankful for the cover of darkness, since you definitely have an embarrassed smile on your face.

“Oh, you don’t have to do this really, I got the Pokemon out here with me.”

“I can leave if it makes ya uncomfortable-”

“No!”

You say a little too quickly and loudly, enough to startle some of your Pokemon.

“I mean… I like that you’re here, and selfishly want you to stay, I just don’t want you inconveniencing yourself on my behalf even more than you already have… Arceus, I’m talking too much.”

You desperately wish you could read his expression through the dark, but you think you hear a light chuckle.

“I want to be here too. Sounds like everythin’s alright then.”

It feels like you should just fall asleep at that, but also, it seems like the right time to chat a little more.

“Looks like Wooloo’s happy. We might have to do joint custody at this rate.”

You can hear Wooloo’s wool being pet, and the Pokemon letting out a pleased sigh.

“He definitely would make all my other Wooloo jealous. I wonder if they’ll play well with him.”

“We’ll have to find out when I visit.”

There’s a few moments of silence, and you yawn a little.

“I’ll miss your company until then.”

Milo seems to shift around in his sleeping bag a bit in response to that.

“…r-really now? Sounds like you have good friends waitin’ for ya…”

You hum a bit as your eyes feel heavier. It’s true, you are about to re-enter the whirlwind that is Leon and Sonia. But there is something about this man in front of you that makes you feel a different way. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but that’s why you wish you could spend more time with him. 

“Yeah but I want to spend more time with you.” 

Your thoughts are getting a bit hazy and running into your words as physical and emotional exhaustion begin to overtake you. 

“You make me… feel different…”

If Milo responded, you’ve fallen too deep into sleep to hear it.

#milo x reader #pokemon imagines #pokemon sword and shield imagines #pokemon milo imagines #pokemon milo #pokemon swsh imagines #fanfiction #a bundle of yarrow #fic

[everlarkficexchange]

All the World's a Stage

Prompt 31: “We never see you two so much as kiss in public but last night we all heard you having sex.” Submitted by Buttercupbadass

Rated E (Explicit): Mainly for language because Johanna is a potty mouth and so are other certain characters whilst mid coitus okay I don’t make the rules here so there’s more than one f-bomb therefore we rate it E. Also sexual content.

Written by: @katnissdoesnotfollowback

Beta reading by: @stjohn27

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

Act 1

Johanna Mason loves her neighbors. That is to say, she loves the entertainment they provide her with. It’s a rotating show of fabulous, ridiculous, and delicious drama, and she has a window to each and every one of their lives. Literally.

Victor’s Square is not exactly a square. It’s more of an elongated rectangle shaped building consisting of thirteen apartments, a workout room, a community center, and an office, with a hollowed out central area for a pool. Honestly, the pool is the reason she picked this place instead of The Arbor, which is pretty damn swanky but somehow they forgot to include a pool, of all things, when they added their five thousand luxury amenities. Since Johanna likes sunbathing and not golfing (ugh boring!), Victor’s Square won out.

The three story design of the building, and her luck in snagging the single apartment on top of the office, means that at some point in the day, barring sun glare on glass or inconvenient curtains, she can see directly into every other apartment on the rectangle. Hence the entertainment.

She’s been privy to all sorts of great shit, and none of them seem to know exactly what they’ve given her. The best part is, they’re clueless. As soon as she realized they were basically living their lives on a stage for her, Johanna started parading around her own place with the curtains wide open…while naked. Stark fucking naked. Just to see what would happen.

And nothing changed. No one complained. Which granted, she’s got a banging body. Axe wielding will do that, but she can think of at least half a dozen residents who’d be put off by her exhibitionism. And yet… nothing. No one started suspiciously keeping their curtains or blinds closed when they hadn’t before. Since they’re all too dumb to figure out that their lives are her parade, she just popped the popcorn and settled in for the show.

Tonight, however, Johanna is in no mood for the show. After a late night shift ending a bitch of a week, all she’s in the mood to do is swim a few laps to get the grime off of her skin then lay back in one of the lounge chairs around the pool, listening to the hum of the air conditioners in the sweltering Carolina night, swatting at the mosquitos because she’s too damn lazy to light the citronella torches, and stare up at the rectangle of starry sky she can see.

It’s quiet tonight. She swims her laps, and it works wonders to relax her tired bones and even more tired soul. After, she lays out on one of the squeaky lounge chairs. The hum and the warm air make her drowsy. Inevitably, she begins to doze, with only a vague awareness of the passage of time and the sounds around her.

It’s the loud click and the whoosh that wakes her. Just for a moment. Not long enough to place it at all before she fades back out into half slumber. 

Her psyche is a bitch tonight, dropping long breathy moans into her dreams. The sex so good you can’t quite keep it in kind of moans, even though you’re trying. Completely aware that she messed up a truly great thing just days ago, she tells her subconcious to fuck off and stop reminding her of the one she let get away. Because she was stubborn. Unfortunately, her subconscious is not listening to her. Stupid fucker.

Scrunching up her nose, she refuses to move. She’s sticky with sweat and pretty sure that she’ll lose two layers of skin off her back and thighs when she goes to stand up from the lounge. Besides, there’s a low moaning noise that makes her wonder if maybe she wasn’t actually dreaming those sex sounds. 

The moans in her mind grow louder and slightly more frantic until she can place the heavy feeling in her limbs. She’s awake after too little sleep. 

Damn it. She’s not actually dreaming this shit. Which means one of her neighbors is on the brink of a seriously great orgasm. She’s not sure if she’s annoyed by the fact that she herself hasn’t had decent sex in far too long, or if she’s amused at yet another dramatic chapter in life at Victor’s Square.

The real question is… who’s doing the nasty tonight?

Act 2

A slight shiver and a thrill goes through Johanna as she finally opens her eyes and stares up at the canvas of stars above her.

Another moan ends in a slight squeal and fuck it, Johanna is hooked on the mystery. Shame she doesn’t have any popcorn down here, because given the sheer volume, and the way the sounds are magnified by the shape of the rectangle around the pool, she’s pretty sure whoever it is, they’re fucking with the windows open.

Kinky.

And a lot more interesting than her job. She does a happy little shimmy and settles in to guess who it possibly could be. First things first… she glances around the pool and discovers to her dismay that every apartment has at least one window open, but they’re all dark. Not surprising given that it’s well past midnight. But it’s unfortunately unhelpful. The air conditioner must be out again. That’s probably what that loud noise was earlier.

She closes her eyes again, hoping to pinpoint the direction of the sounds to figure out which of her neighbors is getting lucky tonight. But the shape of the building makes it impossible. Sounds just carry weird in this rectangular bullhorn. They could be coming from anywhere.

“Ung, yeah, right there… oh-oooooh!” The last sound is hitched and breathy. That’s a woman’s voice, Johanna thinks. 

“Yes. Don’t — don’t stop! – I –” The word is pinched off in a desperate sort of ecstasy and Johanna smiles. This could be fun.

It can’t be Caesar and Claudius, the two radio talk show hosts who live in apartment 6. They’re gay. And men. And a couple. But truthfully, she’s not at all disappointed that she can rule them out. She already knows more than she’d like to admit about their sexual habits. Usually she’s not one to kink shame, but electrodes on nipples is a little too close to the realm of torture for her tastes.

“Yes! Please!” the woman begs and Johanna feels her body flush with the erotic sounds, she’s half aroused but fully invested in figuring out who this is. She could of course, get up and walk around to triangulate the sound, but what’s the fun in that?

She quickly rules out Mags in apartment 5. She’s the sweetest old lady, surprisingly spritely. From what Johanna has seen from old pictures of her, Mags was a fucking dish in her youth, but now she’s gotta be pushing ninety. Besides the wrinkles (shudder), Johanna would be worried about heart failure if Mags were the one getting her boots knocked around with this much vigor.

The long moans shift to the choppy, catch breath ones that mean she’s close, whoever the lucky bitch is.

Cinna in apartment 3 is out. He’s ace. Asexual and aromantic. Claims that he’s in a love affair with his work. Well if she could design clothes like the ones Cinna does, Johanna would be willing to give up sex too. She snorts a little and turns her ear, hoping for a better angle on the sound. She’s pretty sure it’s coming from one of the upstairs apartments, but can’t be sure.

Whoever it is, she lets fly a single high pitched note. And then a long stuttering moan that just sounds exactly how it feels to come back down from a really good orgasm. Satisfied, relieved, a little sleepy and a whole lotta euphoric. 

Lucky bitch, Johanna thinks again. Her legs feel heavy and her toes tingle in empathy.

Now if only she could catch something of the partner’s noises…unless the woman is masturbating. Possible, but the directions to not stop earlier make it less likely.

A low pitched murmur and a deep masculine laugh helpfully nix that thought almost as soon as Johanna has it. 

Not flying solo, but also Johanna can now rule out Enobaria and Lyme from apartment 2. She’s never understood them exactly. On the surface, you’d think they’d be perfect for one another. Their personalities mesh in a weird kinda way. Enobaria is louder while Lyme is more dignified, but they’re so often bickering about politics… and the truth is, they have an open relationship.

Or at least Johanna assumes they do based on the number of not-Lyme women Enobaria has entertained shoved up against the glass door leading to their balcony…but if not, Johanna is perfectly willing to offer up herself as a rebound to Lyme when the inevitable shit hits the fan. That woman is built like a house and fucking sexy in a domineering sort of way. Like Brienne of Tarth hotness.

She can order me to submit anytime she wants, Johanna thinks with a smirk.

As if confirming her thoughts, a long deep moan drifts down to her ears, slow and almost silky. Delighted and yet a little astonished, like he can’t quite believe his luck. Definitely a dude. Blowjob or penetration? Either way, this guy’s pent up, she thinks. She’s also guessing that the girl’s orgasm was from fingering or cunnilingus, which means the show is not anywhere near to being done.

There’s only so many people left who it could be…

Her phone vibrates on her chest and she finally opens her eyes again, lifting it above her face and squinting at the overly bright screen.

Finnick: I can’t believe you’re sleeping on this. Do you hear this?!

Johanna frowns. The time stamp is right now. Which rules out Finnick and Annie in apartment 4. Damn it. They were the most obvious choice for a man-woman pairing going at it with this much abandon, and while Johanna is pretty sure they have mind numbingly, porn worthy good sex, they’re unfortunately discreet about it. 

It’s maddening.

Whenever she talks about Finnick and Annie, Johanna’s therapist always hums that way therapists sometimes do when they know you’re engaging in something destructive or unhealthy — such as a minor obsession with your best friend’s love and sex life — but the therapist wants you to figure it out on your own. Johanna can’t help it. Finnick’s a walking sexual fantasy for almost every woman out there. Even her lesbian friends find him hot. And Annie’s gorgeous. Johanna can’t help it if she not so secretly wants them to sandwich her. She’s got a good strap on that Annie could borrow to get it done.

But alas, or maybe fortunately, Finnick’s text eliminates them as the current lucky couple. Pity. She was hoping for something new to add to her spank bank.

Johanna: Where are you?

Finnick: Well we were asleep.

Johanna: Boring. You could be giving them competition.

As if to punctuate her point, a steady cadence of low, slow moans begins filling the air. They weave through the humidity and now Johanna is just angry.

Johanna: Do you know who it is? 

Finnick: Nope. I have my theories…

Johanna: Ugh spare me. 

There’s three potential couples left, and of those three, Johanna’s got a good guess who Finnick thinks it is, or at least wants it to be.

Johanna: I’ll gouge out my eyes if it’s them.

Finnick: Say it. Call them the name.

Johanna: I’m not using that stupid nickname, you absolute child

Finnick: Like you’re any better. 

“Fuck fuck fuck, stop. You’re gonna make me come,” the lucky man gasps. The woman must say something because he chuckles and whispers back to her, the tone traveling if not the words.  Johanna sets her phone down then, perked up by shuffling noises that sound maybe like a position change. 

So who is left…

There’s Haymitch and Effie. Those two… residents of apartments 9 and 11 respectively…they pretend like they hate one another, and maybe they really do. While Johanna enjoys their epic fights, she’s not overly fond of their making up sessions. She’s pretty sure Effie was some kind of tantric goddess or pretzel in another life with the way that woman can bend.

It’s…unnatural.

Her phone vibrates again and Johanna lifts it in front of her face, this time it’s a notification from Facebook, sent out to all the residents in the group.

Effie: I have already filed a complaint with Mr. Heavensbee in regards to the broken a/c. He says there will be a repairman here first thing in the morning. In the meantime, we should all attempt to be cordial in our behaviors and not disturb the other residents since all will likely have the windows open for the night.

A text almost immediately after let’s Johanna know what her friend thinks of that.

Finnick: Where’s your sense of fun, Effie?

Johanna bites back a snort. Although the notice does rule out the exuberant woman as a candidate for Porn Queen tonight, so Johanna texts Finnick again.

Johanna: My money is on Cashmere and Gloss

Johanna sends the text and waits for the response. She’s not disappointed. She cackles internally at the flood of barf emojis and angry exclamations she gets back. Cashmere and Gloss of apartment 1, or as Johanna likes to call them, The Lannisters. Because they may be brother and sister, but they’re totally doing the nasty. Really nasty.

No one believes Johanna about this, though, and she’s not about to tell the other residents how she knows it’s a fact, not just some cockamamy theory of hers. People get pushed off walls for things like that. 

Not to mention then they’d all figure out that she can see into their apartments as well and there goes that bit of fun. 

“Fuck,” the lucky dude draws the word out into almost a croak, and there’s a soft sigh from her.

Finnick: Something is wrong with you

Johanna: Do you think he’s well hung? Whoever he is?

Finnick: Who cares as long as he knows how to use it?

Johanna shakes her head at this, easily able to picture her friend wiggling his eyebrows. 

Johanna: He sounds well hung. It could still be Haymitch, sans Effie

After all, Haymitch isn’t officially tied down, and at the last residence brunch, Peeta’s good friend Delly was visiting and wasn’t at all subtle about her attraction to Haymitch. The girl was deceptively sweet, bubbly and innocent, but with those knockers on her chest and the way she kept laughing at Haymitch’s worst jokes, Johanna is pretty sure Delly has a thing for the much older man.

Finnick: I’m going to ignore your obsession with Haymitch’s junk for now. And also nope. Annie says she can see Haymitch through our window, sitting on his balcony, drinking.

Finnick: Alone.

Well damn. There goes that theory. Just to be sure, Johanna turns her head and cranes her neck. Sure enough, Haymitch sits on his balcony, lounged back in his chair with a glass in hand. After a second or two, he must feel eyes on him because he looks down towards Johanna and lifts the glass in toast.

Which is when the wall pounding begins and the lucky man’s moans start to grow out of control. Damn. They’re really into it now. 

Finnick: You know I’m right

Johanna: You’re ridiculous.

Finnick: It’s Peeniss. How much you wanna bet?

Johanna rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Finnick has some crazy theory that Peeta Mellark, baker and all around way too nice guy of apartment 8 is somehow secretly dating Katniss-I-Will-Shoot-You-If-You-Touch-Me-Everdeen of apartment 12. Not that the girl doesn’t need a good fuck. If anyone is desperately in need of a body shaking, mind blowing, toe curling orgasm, like the one currently building in the summer night, it’s that perpetually scowling and uptight bitch. 

Johanna just seriously doubts that the woman now moaning in cadence with the steady headboard thumps and the increasing volume is Katniss. She sounds way too into it, relaxed. Whoever she is, she’s getting nailed five ways to Sunday and is ecstatic about it.

It could be one of Katniss’ lovely roommates. Katniss lives with her younger sister and one of her best friends, Madge Undersee, in apartment 12. They’re crammed into it somehow… but before Johanna can suggest it to Finnick, she dismisses the idea. 

Prim’s at college, left three days ago…so it won’t be her. Shame. She’s been living under her big sister’s overprotective arch so long that the poor girl has got some catching up to do in the sex arena. College will be good for that, but it means she’s not the woman–

“Fuck yeah.” A resounding slap and the accompanying whimper make Johanna’s eyes go wide. “Lift that ass for me. Fuck yourself on my cock. Love it when you do that.”

Whoa. Okay.

It could be Madge. Or Gale who lives right next door in apartment 13, but they’re almost as unlikely candidates as Katniss. Johanna is pretty sure Madge is a lesbian. Closeted still, unfortunately, because Johanna wouldn’t mind burying her face between those creamy thighs. And Gale… well it could be Gale, Johanna supposes, with some lucky girl who doesn’t live in Victor’s Square. 

Maybe Delly.

Shame it’s not me, Johanna thinks and risks stretching a little. It has been her before, in her own apartment, because while Gale is usually down to fuck, he’s never down to doing it in his apartment. 

That’s because he’s got a massive boner for Katniss and isn’t willing to risk her knowing that he fucks around with at least half a dozen girls that are not Katniss. Masochist. That’s what Gale is. But it’s also why Johanna doubts that Gale is the guy currently balls deep in ecstasy. He’s too loud for someone who wants to keep his sex life secret from his neighbor.

As for Peeta…well it could be Peeta with a girl who isn’t Katniss. He’s handsome and sweet enough to get plenty of pussy, if he tried—

“No! Don’t stop!”

“You don’t get to come again just yet,” the man growls and Johanna automatically clenches her thighs at the commanding tone.

More shuffling and grunting. One yelp from her, then the pounding resumes. And doesn’t let up.

“Harder!”

Faster and faster, his moans keeping pace. The resounding slapping of skin.

 “Gonna – gonna!”

A chorus of “yes’s” and desperate pleas.

“Fucking yes! Peeta!”

Her phone goes off with a stupid amount of speed.

Finnick: I TOLD YOU!!!! 

Johanna types madly at this. 

Johanna: So it’s not the Lannisters, but that doesn’t mean it’s Katniss up there with Peeta. 

Finnick: Oh come on! Who else could it be? You know he’s got it bad for her!

Okay yeah, there is that. There’s also the fact that Johanna shouldn’t be so bitter about this. Just like Katniss is in dire need of a good fuck, so is Peeta. But based on the sounds and the things they said…

Whoever she is, she’s still squealing and the thumping hasn’t let up yet. Damn that’s a long orgasm, Johanna thinks with more than a little jealousy.

“Come for me. Fucking come inside me. Now. Peeta!” 

Those aren’t the words of a sexually frustrated prude talking, Johanna wants to say. Nor are they words of a couple going at it for the first time. Nope. This couple is way too comfortable with each other for it to be a first time. This couple has fucked before. Maybe often.

Go baker boy, Johanna wants to say, but she can’t imagine who he’s with. He hasn’t so much as brought a date home in a year.

A series of texts from Finnick crop up on her phone. Flame emojis and winking faces. An eggplant or two and the three drops of water people use to represent cum. Johanna slouches in her chair, a little miffed that she can’t shut Finnick up yet until…

There’s a deep growling, animalistic sound. A long string of curse words mixed with moans and then— 

“Katniss. Fuuuuuuuuck.”

The curse word takes him about a minute to get out all the way. Damn it, Johanna thinks. Now Finnick will be impossible to live with. She can’t even look at her phone as it blows up again, knowing that he’ll be gloating. Instead she turns it off. 

As carefully as she can, Johanna peels herself off the lounge chair and tiptoes towards the stairs, intent on reaching her own balcony. Not because it sits caddy corner to Peeta’s apartment and if they’re in his room, it’ll be easier for her to hear any pillow talk. Not at all.

She hurries and nearly gives herself away with the door, but manages it. She stands in the shadows of her balcony and nearly chokes on her tongue at the first thing she hears, besides the unmistakable sounds of coming down thrusts or sucks, maybe kissing, quiet aftermath moans.

“Hold still. I’m not done.”

“Feels too good,” he pants. “Can’t take much more, Katniss.” 

“Mmm, you’ll take it and you’ll like it.”

“Yeah, I will,” he says and she giggles. 

“Are you braiding my hair?”

“Can’t help it. You look so gorgeous sucking yourself off my dick… I can stop…”

“No… go ahead.”

Another few seconds of suction noises and then Peeta sighs in relief.

There’s the fwump and creak of a bed under weight. Johanna can practically see them all cuddled up like a cute little couple in his bed. Sighing and kissing and caressing in their afterglow. 

Disgusting.

“Such a cute ass, and all mine,” Katniss says and there’s a slap then a gasp.

Fucking hell, Johanna thinks, eyes bulging out of her head.

Who would’ve thought the two of them would be so wild in bed? Who would’ve thought they were actually fucking each other?

Johanna wrinkles her nose then, finally forcing herself to go inside her own place. Just out of curiosity, though, she chances one last peek at Peeta’s place. The curtains are drawn, but a helpful gust sucks them out the window just long enough for Johanna to catch a glimpse of two naked bodies on his bed, illuminated in the soft glow of a lamp. Katniss with her head tipped over the edge in the direction of the window and a smile on her face as Peeta kisses a lazy path over her body. Her fingers plucking absently at the tangled sheets.

Well damn and fuck.

Johanna heads to bed after that and prepares a salvo of taunting for tomorrow morning. There’s no way she’s letting something this juicy go unremarked upon, especially since literally everyone who was home would’ve heard it.

Act 3

In the morning, Johanna is up early and down at the community center well before the once a month residents’ brunch that Effie insists on hosting. Poor thing is pinch faced and pale this morning, flummoxed when Johanna offers to help set up.

“I suppose. Since no one else appears to be out and about yet. Nothing funny with the vegetables this time,” Effie chastises and Johanna salutes. She’s got better things planned than erotic displays with the produce.

Honestly, she couldn’t care less about the flower arrangements or the energy inherent in the order of food laid out on the table. Helping Effie this morning affords her a prime view through the community center windows of each stairwell and of everyone arriving this morning.

And not just for brunch, she thinks with a smirk as she spots Gale, still wearing his work shirt, sneaking up a stairwell towards apartment 13. 

Where have you been all night? Johanna wonders. Not with Katniss, the girl he’s so obviously got the hots for. Even better for the impending drama. She wonders if he’ll find his neighbors present or if Katniss is still cozied up with Peeta in post coital bliss. They’re probably totally morning sex people, Johanna decides.

Slow, sweet morning sex with loving words. Ugh, gag me, Johanna rolls her eyes at her own thoughts.

Preparations move swiftly after that, even with Effie on her case every few minutes. The pending drama is just too great to dampen her mood.

Peeta’s one of the first to arrive, conspicuously alone. He chats with Johanna for a few minutes, friendly as always, and then moves off as more of the residents arrive.

It takes everything in Johanna’s energy reserve to not throw something at the back of his head. He acts like he didn’t have the fuck of his life last night. It befuddles her and also infuriates her because it means Finnick could be right. 

Oh my god, Finnick could be right about them! They might actually be dating. Who’s to say they aren’t if they can keep their sex life together such a secret. If the air conditioner hadn’t failed…

Peeta’s nonchalance this morning throws all her arguments against Finnick’s stupid Peeniss theories out the window. How is that even possible? She had Peeta pegged as a total softie. Hand holding, nose rubbing, and obnoxiously cute, borderline clingy PDA type of guy, not a rail you into the bed then pretend I don’t even know you the next morning type of guy.

Huh. Pegging. Wonder if he’s into that, Johanna thinks then has to forcibly shake the image out of her head. Because not only does it make sense in a way, but the image is also…sexy as fuck. And she doesn’t need yet another happy dappy ass couple to fantasize about and maker her therapist hum at her in that knowing way.

Fuck Finnick and his stupid theories.

When the tenants of apartments 12 and 13 finally arrive together, Madge splits off to talk to Mags. Gale and Katniss are both suspiciously wet haired. If Johanna didn’t know any better, she’d guess that they were the culprits last night, especially when Katniss doesn’t even so much as look in Peeta’s direction.

Her cheeks are flushed, but she’s avoiding her fuck buddy, talking to literally everyone else, twisting the damp ends of her braid around her finger.

“What do you make of it?” Johanna asks Finnick, bumping her hip into his. He shrugs, with that insufferable smirk on his face that he always gets whenever he’s right.

For two people who were so clearly intimate last night, Katniss and Peeta are doing a pretty good job of acting like the other one doesn’t even exist.

“They’re just… both very private people. But the signs are all there for anyone paying attention.”

“But that’s the thing… the signs aren’t there!” Johanna protests. What game are they playing, she wonders.

“I just don’t get it,” Johanna says and Finnick glances down at her.

“What?”

She waves her hands at Peeta, who looks for all the world like he’s fascinated by whatever Caesar is talking about. But why would he be when Katniss is literally right there.

“They act like nothing happened.”

“Well we know something happened,” Finnick says conspiratorially. Then his smile slips. “Actually, everyone here knows about it.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. Apparently everyone was home last night…”

“Not Gale,” Johanna adds and lifts one eyebrow. Finnick’s eyes go wide and his mouth turns round.

“Oh my. Delicious.”

“Isn’t it?”Johanna says. “But still… you wouldn’t guess it from the way they act.”

“They can’t stop looking at each other.”

Johanna turns her head and motions at them. Absolutely not looking at one another.

“Are not.”

“You missed it. Gotta be quick with these two.”

Johanna shakes her head as she watches Katniss, and Gale who is placing some kind of food on her plate. She’s nodding and listening to him but subtly shifting the food off to the side of her plate while picking up something else and nibbling on it straight away.

And finally, Johanna can’t take it anymore. She stomps over to the tables and loads up her own plate, absolutely not eavesdropping on their conversation.

“Thought you were gonna text me when you got off work?” Gale says.

“Oh. Something came up… Prim. Prim needed to talk.”

“Everything alright?” Gale asks.

And this time, Johanna just catches the quick dart of gray eyes towards blue. Peeta’s shy smile. Katniss’ swift flutter of lashes and nibble on her bottom lip before returning her attention to Gale.

“It is now.”

“Usually is after a seriously good orgasm or two. And by the way, that’s low, using your baby sister as an excuse,” Johanna snorts. She doesn’t mean to, but it just sort of slips out.

Katniss whips around to face her. Dark rouge staining her high cheekbones and her lips pinched together.

“My sister isn’t an excuse.”

“Oh please. Cut the crap.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Katniss hisses.

“I’m talking about the fact that we never see the two of you so much as kiss or even hold hands in public, but last night, I heard you having sex. Loud sex. Phenomenal, shake the rafters loud, sex.” Johanna smirks at the pair of stunned faces looking at her. And the dozen curious faces plus Peeta’s mortified one. All of them focused on her. Center stage, she thinks with a grin and waves a half eaten croissant around at the gathered crowd. “We all heard you. Except for Gale here who was probably out getting consolation tail since you didn’t text him. Really, Brainless, what do you expect if you and baker boy are gonna bang with the windows open?”

There’s ten seconds of stunned silence before Finnick shouts, “I figured it out first, by the way!” Then he grunts as Annie elbows him in the gut.

“Baker boy?” Gale practically growls and Johanna sashays away as Peeta steps over to stand behind a now scowling Katniss. Her hand clenches into a fist as she faces Gale. She leans back against Peeta’s chest, as if she knows he’s there before she even sees him. Good for her. At least she’s not going to shy away from it. But now they’re going to be every bit as insufferably disgusting as Finnick and Annie are.

Love’s a bitch, oh well. Time for that popcorn, Johanna thinks.

#Springtime Edition 2020 #katnissdoesnotfollowback #buttercupbadass #Prompt 31 #early submission #submission

[zrtranscripts]

Home Front, Mission 15: Phil & Zoe’s Cinderella Story

Once Upon a Workout

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Hello, ci-ti-zens, and welcome back to Radio Lock-In. I know last time it was Radio Phil, but since Zoe’s contributing via ROFFLEnet from the kennel where she's riding out the zombie horde, this felt a bit more apt. Also less likely to end in my having to fend off an attack by a pack of trained murder cats. Not that that's something I worry about late at night or anything. [laughs]

Anyway, it's time to start your warm-ups. Running on the spot, bit of stretching, whatever floats your boat. Oh, um, and uh, grab a yoga mat or um, large towel. You're going to be needing them. Because today, Radio Lock-In has a special treat: your very own Phil and Zoe-style fairy tale, with music breaks, ministry workouts, and a few minor updates to one of Ye Olde classic tales.

Uh, why fairy tales, you may ask? Well, obviously Zoe's a fan, what with all the talking cartoon animals in the Disney versions. But um, I just find them comforting. Have done since I was a kid. They're simple. Good wins, evil is vanquished, love is eternal, and magic is real. Well, I don't know about you, but all that sounds really good right now.

So without further ado, drum roll please! [taps hands rapidly on knees and makes a cymbal crash sound with his mouth] Cinderella! Or as Zoe calls it, the one with the posh outfits and the horse mice and in need of a rewrite from someone who has a better sense of women's shoe sizes.

But before we get to that, we'll start our story the way Cinderella starts hers: cleaning while wishing she was at a ball. Grab the nearest household item you can find and dance away while I play an appropriately jaunty tune. Ready? Dance!

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Wonderful! Now to catch you up, as our tale opens, everyone's looking forward to a lavish royal ball in the kingdom of... whatever it's called. But Cinderella can't go. Instead of dancing, her stepmother forces her to constantly tidy up.

I'll be honest, this sounds a lot like what I did as an excuse to get out of school discos. Well, at least until I learned a few slick dance moves from Daniel “Snake Leg” Simons. And uh, no, Zoe, I will not be showing you the patented Simons kick and slither. Luckily, Cinderella has her own snake legs: a fairy godmother who will whisk her away to the ball with some special fairy dust magic.

We'll be helping the fairy godmother out by distributing magic dust of our own with a few uppercuts! Get into a magic stance. Boxing stance, really, but we're in a story here. Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart, your knees slightly bent, fists up as if you're holding tight to a handful of fairy dust. Now you're ready for your magic uppercut. Rotate your body towards the arm in front and punch upwards with your back fist. Magic! Now rotate back to your starting position and you're ready for your next uppercut of magic.

I'd say it'll take about one minute to get Cinderella ready for the ball, so get to uppercutting. Start now. 15 seconds in. The dirty rags have transformed into a dress. Halfway there. The old pumpkin has become a magic carriage. Switch legs so that your other one is in front and keep the magic coming. Only 15 seconds left to go. The mice are horses now! All she needs are magic shoes! Let's turn those everyday shoes into glass slippers.

All done! Time to admire your handiwork. Feel free to keep doing magic uppercuts during this song or just twirl around as you do your own imaginary transformation.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Now fully transformed, Cinderella heads to the ball, which I'd call a glamorous spectacle of light and gold and at least four different types of hors-doeuvres, but Zoe considers to be probably pretty boring, what with all the ball gowns and lack of a proper DJ.

Yeah, I'm fairly sure our Zoe always spent a lot of her youth in roller discos and is probably holding our imaginary ball to unreasonably high standards. But in honor of her anti-ball sentiments, we'll do some wall sits, just like the bored ball-goers.

For this, you'll need a wall that you can stand in front of. Stand with your back to the wall and lean back until your back is pressed against it, but you're still standing upright. Adjust your feet so that they’re shoulder-width apart and about a step in front of the wall, then slide your back down the wall until your thighs and calves make 90 degree angles with your back, head, and backside still against the wall.

We're gonna stay like that for 60 seconds, if we can, starting now. 15 seconds in. Why Zolinda, so lovely to see you here this evening. Halfway done. I know, such a boring ball. I'm too tired to even eat these delicious cheese canapes. Just 15 seconds to go. At least the prince is looking well. Maybe he'll meet his bride tonight, who decides to turn to a parliamentary system of rule! And done.

Stand back up and shake out those legs. A mysterious stranger has just entered the ballroom. Spoiler, it's Cinderella. All right, Cinderellas, I'll play an entrance song and you can do your best glass slippered red carpet walk, or another round of wall sits if you'd like. I'm gonna have some of those imaginary canapes. They imaginary sound imaginary delicious.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: And we're back. Just in time. Cinderella is now in the middle of an exciting tango with the prince, who wants to know more about her. Uh, naturally, per Zoe, they take the opportunity to have an in-depth conversation about ruling a kingdom in a way that allows for the voice of the people to be heard, gender equality, and whether avocado is a fruit, all while dipping and sashaying.

But uh, just as Cinderella is coming up with the excellent idea to test avocados’ fruitiness by putting it on toast, the clock begins to strike midnight. [a bell chimes twice] Once it hits 12 AM, all of that fairy magic will disappear, so Cinderella has to make a run for it.

That means it's time for high knees. Run in place, bringing your knees up with each step as if you're running back to your carriage before the clock strikes midnight. Let's go, starting now. 15 seconds in. You've made it out the front door of the palace, expertly dodging the guards. Halfway there. Uh, you're at the top of the longest flight of stairs ever. Head to the bottom. Only 15 seconds left to go. You've made it down the stairs, leaving a glass slipper behind in the process. That's okay, your carriage is just ahead. Made it! Now it's time to head home and pretend you've been cleaning all night. Practice looking casual yet hard-working during this next song.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: We're almost to the end of our tale. It's the next day and no one suspects that Cinderella was the previous evening's it girl, the talk of the town, the belle of the, well, ball. The prince, who Zoe notes foolishly left his glasses off while dancing and therefore couldn't see the face of the woman he fell for, is searching for her by trying to fit the glass slipper on everyone he sees. Uh, according to Zoe, that is only the fifth worst way to pick a potential mate, but she says she will not reveal one through four except to say that one of them involves lime jelly and exactly 16 eels.

And with that somewhat discomforting thought, let's help our prince out with some knee folds. They're just like lifting your foot for a shoe fitting. More or less, anyway. Start by lying down on your back. Grab your yoga mat or towel to put underneath you so you've got something comfortable to lie on. Now bring your knees up so that they’re bent and the soles of your feet are flat on the floor and your toes are pointing straight forward. Your arms should be by your sides, your shoulders relaxed and chest open. [sighs] Relaxing right?

Now as you inhale, use your abdominal muscles to lift your right leg off the floor while keeping your hips against the ground. Keep your knees bent and lift your leg until your thigh is at a 90 degrees angle from your body and your lower leg is parallel with the floor. They call this table position because, well, it looks like your lower legs are the top of a table. Now exhale as you lower your leg back down to the floor. Now do the same with your left leg, and continue alternating for the next minute.

Go! These aren't meant to be fast kicks. Keep the movement slow and controlled. Imagine someone trying endless shoes on your feet. 15 seconds in, but all the feet that the glass slipper has been tried on are too wide! Keep going. Halfway through, and now the feet are too narrow! 15 seconds of feet left to try. You're almost there. Done. That's it, that's the one. You've found Cinderella! And now you deserve a break. Shoe fitting and storytelling are both hard work. I'll put on a nice cooldown song so you can stretch out your muscles from all that fairy taling.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: And that's the story of a very active Cinderella. Fun! I almost forgot we were exercising. And Zoe says it went off more or less without a hitch, even if I did leave off a detailed epilogue about Cinderella teaming up with the fairy godmother to create a magical haute couture fashion line. Uh, she says half the fun of fairy tales is that they're so simple that you get to add your own spin to it, make the story your own. Works for me, as long as we still get to throw in a happily ever after. I miss those.

Anyway, let us know on ROFFLEnet if you like fairy tales as much as we do and we'll put our heads together to come up with another. Maybe... Rapunzel. [laughs] I definitely feel like I can relate to someone who spends half her life trapped in a tower and is rapidly growing a very distressing amount of hair. Whatever we do pick and however we remix it, I have to say, there's still something comforting about retelling a classic. These stories have lasted hundreds of years, through war and disease and love and zombies, and if they can keep going, so can we.

~

#zombies run #zr home front #zrhf 15 #phil and zoe's cinderella story #zr transcript

[bittervitter]

ang0mang0′s “copycat” claims

I didn’t want to have to make another post about this, but since people on sonicfan799 / thatAnge / @ang0mang0′s Tumblr profile are getting riled up about this ridiculous drama that should have died ages ago, I figured I’d defend myself. Some people who are trying to support me have been saying incorrect things too, so I also wanted to clear that up. This crap has been going on for months, everyone is sick of it by now. Instead of being brief like I did for other social medias, I’ll be as detailed as possible this time.

[1] “she’s copying/imitating/heavily referencing from my art style!!!”

Like people have said a million times, no I’m not. And nor is anyone else. Just because someone draws the Sonic characters in a similar style to you does not automatically mean they took, copied or “stole” those ideas from you. You don’t own the concept of buff, fluffy bodies or chubby muzzles. COINCIDENCE, as much as you hopelessly deny it, is very much a possible thing- even in crazy situations such as this. There are several other artists who have similar art styles by mere coincidence. IT IS NOT IMPOSSIBLE. As examples, these Instagram artists have similar styles: @ azulytoons and @ indigonite0 / @ magenta_mel and @ zer0finix / @ himemikal and @ natirix. NONE of these artists are “stealing” or referencing from each other- they just have similar art styles, and that is perfectly okay! They draw completely different things with completely different mindsets. The world does not revolve around you, ang0. Not everyone knows who you are, so some people who use the same traits that we do don’t even know we exist.

Also, to anyone unaware, an art STYLE is not merely how one chooses to portray a character. An art STYLE is also what brushes you use, how you sketch, how you line, how you colour, how you shade, how you choose to portray certain objects or ideas- basically your entire fucking understanding of how something’s supposed to look and how you LIKE it to look. It’s not just “chubby faces, poofy curly hair, buff bodies”. It’s everything in a piece AND that.

[2] “she’s tracing my art/ redrawing my ideas!”

Literally no. People have constantly asked you to provide evidence and you refused to. All you did was scream “but it’s so obvious, just look at it!” or “are you dumb? use your eyes!” and several other insults. If you want to prove a point or make someone see something, GIVE. EVIDENCE. The only person who actually provided “proof” was pin_kpeach, your ever so loyal whiteknight, but her “proof” only backfired and proved that the both of you are extremely delusional. In the drawings of ours that she layered over each other, next to NONE of the lines lined up. It looked like a clustered mess of scrap, and the reason for that is because IT WASN’T TRACED. In the one or two drawings where ONE. SINGLE. PIECE. actually lined up was entirely zoomed in to make it seem as though the whole thing was traced. No, honey, that’s not how you provide proof. That’s how you pull a muscle by reaching so desperately to lie about me. The rest of the drawings in those pictures didn’t line up at all, and one- or I believe both- needed to be titled to line them up in the first place. You could say that some people trace things and resize or rotate them, but if I were as dumb as you persist to say, then I wouldn’t have done something like that. Either way, one aspect of a drawing lining up is a common thing for people who have similar styles because- well, I just said it. THEY HAVE SIMILAR STYLES. If they draw something the same way, well fucking duh, it’ll match someone else’s drawing almost exactly sometimes.

[3] “she’s too petty and too much of a liar to credit me! saying the art isn’t hers will hurt her oversized ego!”

Ahaha no. The only one here with an inflated ego is you, ang0. You call me the egotistical one yet you act as though your life is falling apart just because someone else draws like you on the internet. Stop acting like a special snowflake, you are not the only one on this planet with an art style of that nature. I don’t credit you because crediting you makes no damn sense. Why should I credit someone who’s had absolutely no impact on my work whatsoever? What in the hell did you do for my drawings that makes you deserve so much credit? Did you sketch it? No. Did you line it? Nope. Did you colour or shade it? Not a chance. Just because I came up with a design for the characters that happens to look like yours does not mean I owe you jack shit. You cannot. own. a style. Get over it.

[4] “she worsened my depression and is the reason I can’t draw anymore! I have no motivation when there’s some idiot copycat stealing all my art!”

I don’t want to sound like that kind of person, but you worsened your own depression. You painted this false picture in your head and continue to hang onto that belief like your life depends on it. I haven’t done ANYthing to you. You came to ME with these stupid claims back when my art looked LESS like yours, before I even knew who you were. You’re making yourself feel horrible because you, for some paranormal reason, refuse to believe that you’re not the only one with that kind of style. This is why people call you childish, you’re like a whiny baby that can’t accept another child having a toy similar to yours. I can’t even decide whether I should say “grow up” because you’re older than me- not to mention you’re an ADULT.

[5]”she constantly sends her whiteknights to attack me, harass me and send me threatening messages!”

I’ve said several times to my followers NOT to harass you or your followers or anyone against me in this mess at all. I do not send anyone after you. People say things to you out of their own free will and with their own words. I can’t magically know when this happens, why they decide to and I especially can’t control anyone. I’m sorry that my friend Koro sent you all those DMs and horrible messages wishing a lot of very bad things onto you and your family- I asked her several times before and after not to do that, but I didn’t have a clue she did it until after the fact. Either way, don’t go around assuming that I put people up to this or I intentionally ask people to do these things to you. Why in the hell would I do that? What good does that do? All I wanted to do was talk things out but at this point, you don’t even take me seriously, so I can’t even try anymore. The few times we did talk you refuse to see my point of view and just see me as a liar. What the hell am I supposed to do then?

[6]”all vio does is lie, she’s so fake all the time, lying for her petty ego”

I’m not even sure how to respond to this but I thought I might as well bring it up. No matter what I do or say, ang0 sees me as nothing but some retarded liar that can’t help but lie their way around everything, even though I’ve been nothing but genuine all this time. It’s why I can’t even communicate with her anymore, because “shut up, stop lying you copycat” is all I get in response basically.

[7] her insane hypocrisy

Ange and pin_kpeach have said numerous times that I’m rude or insult her, and there have been times where I’ve been mean out of anger, but I know for a fact I apologized for it in DMs. Ange apologized too. I don’t remember ever insulting her after that, but ang0 doesn’t ever stop ridiculing and insulting me with almost every comment she makes on the drama. If she really was sorry, she wouldn’t have done it again, but I guess she said “fuck it” and just continued anyway. Pin_kpeach likes to say I’M the hypocrite for saying Ange is harassing me yet being rude to her a couple times, yet they do they exact same thing, but even worse?? I try my best to be as civil as possible, but ang0 and pink don’t waste a second calling me and my supporters all sorts of colourful names just because they don’t agree with her claims. In fact, here’s a list of every single thing ang0’s ever called me:

retarded, retard, stupid, idiot, dumb, low IQ, mentally ill, crazy, talentless, skill-less, copycat, art thief, (dumb) cow, fuckhole, asshole, bitch, wanna-be artist, unreasonable, clown, fake, liar, hypocrite, delusional, dick, stalker, bittershitter, dumbass, immature

There’s probably more than that, but that’s as much as I can remember. Not hard to forget when she repeats them almost all the time.

[8] gatekeeping ideas

Ange and pink act as if two people drawing a character in the same outfit automatically equals “du bist kopying mein style!!”. I can’t even begin to imagine the mental gymnastics you need to do in order to believe a thought process like that is logical. She thinks that anyone who draws Amy in a dress with a white under-skirt or white ruffles underneath is nothing but a copied idea from her. She thinks that me drawing Amy in a green tank top, blue backwards cap and blue sports shorts is copying her drawing of Amy in a green unidentifiable top (you could only see her back, she didn’t seem to have straps) and blue sports shorts with a slightly different design is automatically copied from her. The poses, shading, angle and idea behind the drawing were COMPLETELY different- but nonono, “this is stolen because the outfit is the same!” They also use the excuse of the whole chubby faces, curly hair, blah blah blah- see point [1] as to why that’s BS.

[9] her perception of my followers/supporters

Aside from Koro, I don’t know if anyone has seriously threatened or harassed her. Her followers comment on my posts, my followers only comment when she brings up the drama or whines about it. She insults my supporters when they don’t agree with her and act like they’re a bunch of immature brats who are wrong while she’s the high and mighty mature one seeing through non-existent lies. I’m used to her making fun of me, but I’m sick and tired of her insulting people who have nothing to do with the drama just because they don’t agree with her. Like, seriously? You call everyone immature and stupid yet you’re the one insulting people non-stop just because they realize how ridiculous and childish you’re acting. That’s why “childish” has become a popular adjective for you, ang0. BECAUSE YOU’RE BEING CHILDISH. CONSTANTLY. You get pissy, insult others and put people down but whine and cry the next minute because you constantly like to play the victim. Speaking of which...

[10] the victim card

I have absolutely no idea what ang0 goes through in real life, but there is no excuse for how she’s behaved during this drama AT ALL. Ange constantly defames her own artwork, calling it shit, calling it every bad name in the book, but doesn’t hesitate for a minute to gatekeep her style as if it was the best thing in the world. She says it’s because she “worked her ass off” and doesn’t want people just stealing her hard work. Okay, but you do realize that other people put just as much work into their own art, no matter if it looks like yours or not, right? She demands that people change their style to stop looking like hers, acting as if that can be done in a matter of minutes, because people having similar styles makes her uncomfortable. Well, surprise motherfucker- welcome to the internet. No one is original and everyone is original at the same time. People are bound to come up with similar ideas and you’re just going to have to deal with it. But despite the similarities, people are still original in their own right. If you believe that people can change a style so easily, why not just change your OWN style? Because you worked your ass off? Well, THEY WORKED THEIR ASS OFF TOO. So don’t act like you’re the only one who’s put effort into their craft. Art is hard, and that applies to EVERYONE- even professionals.

You blame me and other “copycats” for all your problems, blaming us for worsening your depression, ruining your passion for art- when you’re the only one who does this to yourself. Yes, there have been genuine art thieves in your life, and people who have stolen your art- but what I’m talking about are the people like me who DON’T steal your art or are merely inspired by you. People who say “you should be happy they’re inspired!” aren’t saying “you should be happy they’re copying!”. They’re saying that you should be glad that your work is so inspiring that people create their own unique ideas based off your own. Inspiration doesn’t require credit unless they’re purposefully taking a massive part of the original. But being inspired by a hair style or even a pose isn’t stealing. It’s inspiration, that’s it. I’m not inspired by you at all, but I can at least appreciate your art- even if you think I’m just being fake.

[11] ang0mang0′s history and why this shit doesn’t even make sense

Ange has said publicly and to me in detail about how she’s been accused of the same “art style theft” in the past. From what I’ve gathered or heard, people used to accuse her of copying a popular artist called myly14 who’s Sonic art is pretty much everywhere. Whether it be in edits, MVs or whatever else.  Looking at her old art when she went under the name sonicfan799, her art does look similar to myly’s, but ang0 insisted that she didn’t copy myly and didn’t even know who she was. She legit said “it’s not my fault my art looks like someone else’s”, so basically- it was coincidence. She said she changed her art style because she “isn’t an asshole and didn’t want to make the other artist uncomfortable”, even though art style theft isn’t a thing and no one needs to be forced out of a style just because someone else already draws that way. I have no idea what myly’s stance on that situation was, but the fact that it happened just proves how stupid her current claims are.

Ange says that her style is “too complex” to be coincidentally similar to someone else’s, even though the fact that it’s happened 30 times (according to her) just proves that no, ang0, no it fucking isn’t. Your style isn’t complicated at all. Detailed sure, but no style is too complicated to be similar to another’s. Being complex doesn’t make something any less likely to be identical to another complex style.If you didn’t copy myly14 in the past, what right do you have to accuse me of the same damn thing? If I really am copying you, then you have to admit to copying myly, because you can’t just lie about your past and then shit on me for doing the same thing. So it’s either you stop this nonsense or you drag this drama down with you to your grave and admit you copied myly14.

Another thing, myly14 didn’t even have a “simple” style. The fact that her art was almost instantly recognizable and popular meant that she had a signature style that stood out. Yes, she used a lot of the original Sonic style’s anatomy, but her stylization of said anatomy, her shading and the way she composed her pieces gave her a signature style. The most stylized thing I could see was how she drew muzzles, and guess who drew muzzles in a similar way as well? You did. People saw how your way of drawing faces and some parts of the body and thought it looked liked myly’s. The similarities in your anatomy, and not your shading or colouring, was what made people think you copied her. That exact same thing is happening between me and you. My shading, colouring and composition is entirely different from yours, but some parts of the anatomy are similar.

If you really didn’t copy myly14, you have absolutely no. fucking. excuse. to accuse me of the EXACT. SAME. SHIT. that happened to you.

You never needed or deserved to be pressured out of your old style just because people thought it looked similar to someone else’s, and that’s why I refuse to change my style now. Because it isn’t. fucking. fair. To ANYONE.

[12] how I feel (this is copied over from my DeviantART)

At this point I've grown used to what she has to say, but it still hurts. She thinks that I'm some kind of cartoon villain maniacally laughing behind a computer screen every time I post something because she's so deep into her belief that I really copy everything she draws and that nothing I've never posted has any true effort put into it. She genuinely believes she owns all my art and that I devote my entire gallery into recreating her image or some crazy shit like that. It sounds really dumb, but from what I've read from her poorly constructed comments and rants, that's basically what she believes.

She thinks I don't care at all about how all this affects her or anyone at all, but I do. It doesn't just hurt me in the sense that she makes me feel awful with all her insults, but I just feel so bad for her. I feel guilty in the sense that I couldn't do anything at all to help her, not that "shes prolly feeling guilty and made that april fools joke to let out some guilt!!". (If you don’t know, on April Fools Day, I changed my Instagram bio to say “clown” and call myself “the ultimate copycat” as a joke.) That was a really stupid reaction from her by the way... who the hell comes up with that? Now that she's going away for a month, I feel even worse because all I wanted to do was try to make her come to her senses and end this mess. I thought I could talk some sense into her- that didn't work. Her delusions are so strong, she's like a brick wall. I thought I could ignore the drama- that didn't work. She "clowns" and talks about it so annoyingly often. Not to mention people do things on their own to stir shit up. I thought I could support her regardless and maybe try making her feel better about her art- that didn't work. She thinks I'm fake and that everything I say is a lie. Because of me, she probably doesn't believe other people too- and that makes me feel even more terrible.

No matter what I do, I'm automatically the villain and she's the tortured, helpless artist that everyone is against because "everyone is dumb, supporting a copycat" and she's just "used to it, because she's dealt with so much shit already!". It's so ridiculous. If she would just try to actually better herself or the situation, she wouldn't feel so horrible all the time. Like... for god's sake, she relied on a video game to make her happy- that's not healthy, and just like I suspected, it didn't fucking work.

more of how I feel

Because of ang0, I just feel like garbage. My self esteem and confidence in my art was already low. Thanks to her, I don’t feel original (or as original) anymore- and I’m afraid to show many of my new or old ideas because she or her whiteknight pin_kpeach may spring out and say “copycat! stolen! you’re not original!” and a plethora of other insults. I can barely sketch or draw Sonic content without panicking and feeling worthless because all I have is her words and her opinions stuck in my head. She blames me for her demotivation and shit like that when she’s done the same thing to me. She thinks I don’t care about her or her art, when I do, but when I say that, she calls me fake. In reality, ang0 couldn’t give a damn about me and I’m pretty sure she’d be happy if I were dead. She has said before that she doesn’t care if I killed myself soo... there’s that. Anyway lemme not drag my feelings out too long, I just thought I’d say it to anyone willing to listen since her immediate response would’ve been “fake, liar” etc, etc. I really don’t want anyone to feel bad for me or anything like that, I just want people to listen and understand. That’s all.

a final note

I’m really thankful- like, REALLY thankful- for everyone who’s been on my side throughout this. I don’t like picking sides, and I’d hate to make people do so, but there doesn’t seem to be any in between to this at all. It’s either you believe I’m copying her or you don’t.  Most people don’t- thank goodness for that- but some do. And there’s nothing I can do about it. At this point, whatever man.

Please please PLEASE do not harass ang0. Don’t threaten her, don’t insult her, don’t do anything rash or fucking illegal. It’s all fair game if you want to POLITELY SPEAK to her, or try to start a discussion, but please don’t do anything stupid. And especially don’t do things in my name. If you want to debate with me or her, do research first- don’t just jump to conclusions or make assumptions.If you want nothing to do with this drama, then simply don’t say anything- just be aware of what’s going on, that’s all I ask. So nobody gets the wrong idea on either side.

Sorry for this being so long, I think I’m done for now.

Thank you if you read the whole thing.

[9.4.2020]

[cyb-by-lang]

Leaning On Each Other (Remix)

This is a while later than I expected to get it finished, but here is @writer-and-artist27‘s birthday gift. She asked for a Kei-style take on this minific she wrote a while ago, so I did a full remix.

Apologies for making it a remix instead of the requested Kei's POV of this exact scene.

“I’m telling you, the difference is all in the wrist,” Kei said, holding out a kunai as though it was a katana. She spun it between her fingers as soon as her demonstration was over. “I mean, imagine this about four times as long in the handle and with ten times as much blade, but the point still stands.” 

“You’d have to get me a bokken and show me directly if you want that to make sense,” said Obito, shaking his head slightly. “Rin?” 

Rin shrugged, though her eyes didn’t quite leave the blade. “The blades I deal with are even shorter. I don’t really use them to stab people outside of a medical context. If you’re stabbing someone with a scalpel, something’s gone wrong,” Rin said, even as Kei made the kunai disappear into the holster on her thigh. 

“Like in the flying clipboard story?” Obito asked. 

“I still don’t know the actual story behind that,” Kei said.

Rin nodded along, but only smiled mysteriously when both of her friends in this conversation turned interrogative stares her way. “It’s funnier if I don’t tell you.” 

On the opposite side of the couch, Kakashi made an agreeing noise, then flipped to the next page in his book. Kei didn’t know for sure what he was reading, other than noticing earlier that the cover art was entirely in grayscale and looked kind of gloomy. If Kei had been the one reading, she probably wouldn’t have paid enough attention to the conversation to know where she was supposed to make obligatory listening sounds. 

Tomoko emerged from the kitchen at this point, flopping down on the couch between Kei and Obito. Kei raised a hand to keep her head from hitting the wall, and the three of them shuffled around a bit to accommodate her. 

“So, done working for now?” Kei asked, silently making sure that all of her weapons were stowed. Sure, she’d left her sword at home, but no shinobi was ever fully unarmed. It was a truth universally acknowledged that a kunai somewhere unfortunate would ruin anyone’s day. 

“You know me,” Tomoko replied, not noticing the shinobi weapons-check or not saying so. She leaned against Kei’s shoulder without hesitation. “Just for now.” 

“That’s what you always say,” Obito said, leaning forward over his knees to get a better look at their faces. “You should’ve let us help.” 

“There was batter on the ceiling last time, wasn’t there?” Rin asked. She’d only heard this story second-hand and the details changed in the telling because no one wanted to admit they’d been the one to start shit. 

“That was Kakashi’s fault,” Obito said instantly. “And we were at Kei’s house, so we only got banned there, so it doesn’t count!” 

“Getting banned from any kitchen still disqualifies you from going into a professional one, I think.” 

“Focus, team,” Kakashi said, but mostly sounded like it was a wordier version of the iconic Uchiha “hn.” He certainly didn’t put any force behind the order. 

“Okay, okay.” Kei nudged Tomoko with her elbow. “So, what’s up? Besides a clear need for a nap.”

“Nothing but the ceiling,” Tomoko replied.

“No, really?” Kei drawled automatically. “Would’ve never guessed. Congrats on your first well-timed pun, though.” 

Tomoko pouted. “It got your attention, even if it’s a horrible one. So I’ll try to be punny more often.”

“Tomo-chan!” Obito said, shaking his head. 

“I don’t regret it. Fight me.”

Kei considered her options carefully. A bad pun used in verbal combat came with a number of acceptable responses, but Tomoko wasn’t Hayate—who Kei would have already shoved off the couch by this point. Possibly backflipped him over the top of it, trusting his combat training to handle the landing. Tomoko needed more delicate handling. 

Therefore, Kei said, “Obito wouldn’t fight you if you paid him, puns or otherwise.” 

“It was a joke!” Tomoko protested, half-sunk into a combination of Kei’s jacket and the plush back of the couch. Her voice was a little muffled and pouty as a result. 

And Kei occasionally pretended she didn’t know about those conversational ripostes solely to exasperate Tomoko. She wasn’t sure Tomoko had caught on yet. 

From cross the table, Rin leaned forward and said, “You need to work on your delivery, Tomo. That landed pretty flat.”

“And the Earth is round and rotating on a crooked axis, sue me,” Tomoko said childishly in return, refusing to raise her head from her new resting spot. “I’m trying and I don’t wanna move.”

“It’s almost like overworking has totally foreseeable consequences,” Kei mused, her voice lilting to take the sting out of her words. 

Tomoko paused, thinking on it for a second. “…Would you have me any other way?”

The answer was immediate. “Nope.”

“Good.” A smile replaced the pout. Tomoko’s habit of puffing her cheeks out to pout mostly made Kei want to poke her. “What’s up with you?”

“Not much.” Kei shrugged as best she could with Tomoko’s head on her shoulder. “To make a long story short, Kakashi doesn’t want to give input on my totally half-assed kenjutsu lesson. Obito and Rin are being good friends and pretending they know what the hell I’m talking about.”

There was a crinkle signaling the turning of a page as Kakashi went back to reading.

“Okay, just for that? Rin and I are going to talk about things that aren’t swords,” Obito said with a comically exaggerated huff. “See how you like it.” 

Kei rolled her eyes. “Oh no. Traitors, et cetera.”  

Rin’s smile was helplessly fond. “All right, all right. No more sniping until we get you both on a practice range.” She turned her head. “So, Obito, did I tell you what happened when Akihito-shishō caught the nurses smuggling candy—” 

Rin’s tempting gossip drew Obito’s attention wholly, which was a good indicator that everyone was indeed done with the sword story. 

Tomoko turned her head so that her face was finally angled up toward Kei’s. “You know I was asking about you, health-wise?”

There were times when it seemed as though Tomoko did little else. The life of a ninja was like riding a rollercoaster with a rickety, rusted track that didn’t deserve to have so many twists and turns. Especially for how unreliable it was. Their lifestyle was a major risk to life and limb. 

Kei didn’t say any of that. Instead: “Yeah, I know.”

Tomoko thumped her head against Kei’s shoulder. “You’re my best friend in the whole wide world, y’know.” 

“I know,” Kei said by rote. Reincarnation time buddies! Who hopefully weren’t going to destroy the universe by accidentally turning something into a paradox. 

Another bonk. “Nagareboshi Café will always be open for you, y’know.”

“I know, Tomo.” Mostly because Kei had enough people in her life that she’d never forget it now. Being able to find half her social group there on a given day made the place a landmark, even if it wasn’t also a homey spot on its own.  

Sounding a little strangled now, Tomoko added after a short pause, “So then, Kei?”

“Hm?”

“Whenever you need help, whenever you’re down, you can call me up, y’know. I don’t know how well I can fix things, but I’ll try. I’ll always try.” 

Kei sighed. It was half from fond exasperation, but half from genuine frustration. There was always a part of her that utterly rejected the idea of pushing any of her emotional burdens onto Tomoko. Kei had volunteered practically from the start to chase whatever means of gaining power she could, all so she could make sure her precious people were safe. That was not the choice Tomoko had made. She’d never needed to, and Kei almost needed her to stay out of the blast radius. 

“Tomo, you know I’m not good at asking for—” 

Bonk. 

Kei went silent, raising an eyebrow in a silent question as Tomoko stared back. 

“Just listen, okay?” Tomoko rarely demanded direct, sincere statements toward Kei, who was equipped with a bone-deep inclination to deflect and dismiss what she viewed as excessive verbal reassurance. “No matter what happens, no matter what you end up doing, I’ll stay with you. To the end of our days.”

Kei bit down on the urge to interrupt. 

“I care about you, y’know. So when you need it, let me help you like you help me. Just get that memorized.”

Kei sighed again, reaching up to pat Tomoko’s head. “I’ll remember that.” 

When she could. It wouldn’t be as easy as Tomoko made it sound, but perhaps it could be, eventually. 

And that was when Obito bounced onto the couch hard enough to make Tomoko briefly airborne. She landed with a surprised “eep” with her weight still mostly on Kei’s side, but turned to face Obito. 

“Obi?” Tomoko said, startled.

“Nice of you to drop in,” Kei said over Tomoko’s head. It was so much easier to downplay any surprises when she could track everyone’s location within the room. Also, she’d seen Obito move out of the corner of her eye because he definitely wasn’t being stealthy. 

“Your conversation looked like it needed crashing,” Obito said lightly. “It looked heavy even from where I was standing.” He tilted his head to one side, tucking his legs underneath him. “Tomo, is Kei influencing you? Are you gonna start all your conversations with puns now? Please say no.” 

“It was my first try, Obi,” Tomoko soothed, reaching over with her right hand to rest against the side of his scalp. “I can try a different joke.”

Kei shifted her weight so that Tomoko ended up leaning more Obito’s way. 

“I don’t know, I think the debut worked,” Rin said, settling back in at her spot. Whatever she and Obito had talked about must’ve scared him back into this conversation. She added to Tomoko specifically, “Just maybe relax a little and let them come naturally.” 

“Wordplay and swordplay are both about timing,” Kei offered, “so I could probably help.” 

“I can see you being a bad influence, you know,” Obito said. “Even if you’re trying to be all underhanded about it.” 

“You’re shinobi,” Tomoko said, “Everything’s sneaky and underhanded! I could’ve sworn bad puns are how eye roll considering the family-friend thing.”

Obito groaned, defeated.  “Kei, you had one job!”

“If she’s not making improvised bombs in her bedroom, I’m still coming out ahead,” Kei told him. “And she’s not. I think?” 

“I’m not!” Tomoko said, half-frantic at the turn. “Just baked goods, like usual!” 

“Oh, if that’s the breaking point,” Obito grumbled.

Tomoko frowned thoughtfully. She rested her hand against the side of Obito’s face in apology, then said, “I’ll hold off on the puns and you can have a batch of cupcakes later. Will that be better?” 

This time, there was a hum of approval. Obito closed his eyes and leaned into Tomoko’s hand like a cat, mollified for now. 

That’d probably last until the next time one of Kei’s friends opened their mouths. Peace reigned until the next half-joking argument in the life of Team Minato. And most of their associates.

“Can I join in?” Rin said, though she was already cramming herself into the space on Kei’s other side with a medical textbook in her lap. Kei didn’t bother wondering where she’d gotten it from; at some point, pulling a “nothing up my sleeve” routine felt like it was expected. “This looks like fun.”

“There’s cookies near the stove if you want to grab those first, Ricchan,” Tomoko said. Her chakra felt floaty with contentment. “Just to help with the studying you have there. The cookies are sugar and snickerdoodle.”

Rin’s smile widened. “Maybe later?” She still absently opened the front cover of her book, glancing at it before leaning against Kei’s other shoulder. “This feels nice right now.”

“Just make yourself at home, I guess,” Kei said with a toss of her head, settling farther down in the couch cushions. She shuffled to handle both hers and Rin’s weights before considering. “What about you, Kakashi?”

“Hn.” He instead disappeared briefly into the kitchen, out of easy spotting range thanks to the movement limitations of the human neck. “There’s not enough space for five people on that couch. There really wasn’t for four, but apparently we’re stacking like apartment blocks,” he judged when he returned, but he settled at the group’s feet and set the plate on the table in front of them all. “I brought the cookies.”

At this point, Tomoko started humming. 

Rin reached forward and retrieved her cookies, passing out others at random. Kakashi demurred, returning his attention to his book, and wrinkling his nose at the thought of eating such sweet things of his free will. He was content just basking in his friends’ company. 

“Just eat and relax?” Tomoko offered, passing a cookie from Rin to Obito. “We don’t have anything going on today, so let’s pass the time like this.”

Kei leaned her head back against the top of the couch, listening with half an ear to the world around her. With sight out of the way, she could focus on her friends’ contentment through her chakra sense and live in the moment. 

Tomoko’s voice rose over the impromptu cookie party: 

“Dream of anything; 

I’ll make it all come true.

Everything you need 

Is all I have for you. 

I’m forever 

Always by your side. 

Whenever you need a friend, 

I’m never far behind.” 

Obito shifted and the couch dipped under his weight. Felt like he was reaching for his next dose of sugar already. The plate scraped across the table. “Could you sing that a bit louder, Tomo-chan? I want to hear.”

“Eh?” A sudden wave of shyness swept through Tomoko. “You sure?”

“We’ve all heard you sing before, Tomo,” said Kei, keeping her eyes shut. “No pressure.” 

Rin’s sun-on-water chakra perked up along with her voice as she said, “You were the one to say we should relax, right?”

There was a brief back-and-forth between the boys—banter so played-out it was almost entirely fond. Amusement passed through each of them like an electric current. 

Tomoko’s voice rose again. 

“If the stars all fall,

When there’s no more light, 

And the moon should crumble, 

It will be alright.”

Being here, with these precious people, would tide Kei over through their next absence. With the life she and her friends lived, that separation was inevitable. There was always something else coming down the pipeline and eventually disturbing their peace, but that was the future. 

This was now. 

“Don’t you worry about the dark,

I will light up the night with the love in my heart.

I will burn like the sun,

I will keep you safe and warm.

Like the smell of a rose on a summer’s day,

I will be there to take all your fears away.

With a touch of my hand,

I will turn your life to gold.”

Kei seared the moment into her memory, to keep it like a light against the darkness still to come.

#the sea and stars #snippet #snippets #keisuke gekko #hoshino tomoko #obito uchiha #kakashi hatake #rin nohara #team minato