#i art sometimes but i love all the people all the times

[nana-au]

Best Friends Forever!

Suguru Geto ♡

MDNI

₊˚ପ⊹ Summary: You’re Suguru’s bff and roommate. You know him like the back of your hand – and he knows you the same, if not better! Some people may think you two are too close, but they just don’t understand. When you have a date planned and need help picking out your outfit, Suguru’s your guy! ...What’s this? He doesn’t want you to leave?

₊˚ପ⊹ Warnings: minor mention of blood, mention of pet death, possessiveness, jealousy, nipple play, thigh riding, fingering, making you beg, overstimulation, unprotected sex

₊˚ପ⊹ an: kicking and screaming and crying and throwing up and scratching my face I NEED HIM.

₊˚ପ⊹ wc: 2.8k

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

BFF! Sugu who’s been by your side since before you can even remember! You grew up neighbors and when you both went off to college you got an apartment off campus together. It was only natural to be with Suguru. He was the only constant in your life – your anchor. 

BFF! Sugu who is so protective of you. How could he not? You two experienced life’s firsts together. You were there when Suguru took a nasty spill off his bike. His tears were hot down his face as you stayed by his side. You used the water bottle you kept on your own bike to flush the blood off his knee, giving it a quick peck. “My mom always says a kiss makes everything better. Do you feel better Sugu?” He nods his head, wiping the snot off of his face with his t-shirt. He was there when you lost your first pet and even though you were preteens and everyone made you feel dumb being sad over a goldfish - Geto made it a point to hold a funeral in his backyard. He dug a small grave for it - picking out the perfect rock for you to write its name on to place on top of its resting place. 

BFF! Sugu who makes sure you’re safe. He would never allow you to pump your own gas. He’s seen the type of guys who prowl around the gas station close to your home. He’ll make sure you get to sit pretty in the passenger seat while he fills up your car. Don’t worry about the price – he’ll take care of it. He always takes care of you. 

BFF! Sugu who knows everything about you. He knows all your favorites. Favorite color, favorite season, favorite food, favorite tv show… there was nothing that you liked that he was not aware of. He knows about things you wouldn’t be caught dead telling anyone else – trusting only your best friend. 

BFF! Sugu who is so so sooooo protective of you. Any guy he thought wasn’t the absolute best for you was quickly kicked to the curb. He’ll admit – sometimes the criteria was a little strict. The guy from your art class? His haircut was stupid. Shithead from your after school club? Believe him – he was a tool. Worst of all was the douche on your school’s baseball team. Suguru had quite the time getting you to see his point of view, but he didn’t dare say I told you so as you cried in his arms retelling the embarrassment of catching him cheating. 

BFF! Sugu who learns to relax in college. You were a woman now – you no longer needed his constant guidance. He would genuinely smile as you talked about all the friends you were making in your major. How funny your coworkers at the concession stand job you worked every football game were. The fact you had a date with a friend of a friend – your girl friend had vouched for him. He was a good guy. Geto was glad you had people looking out for you. He couldn’t wait to meet him. 

BFF! Sugu who helps you pick out the cute little outfits for your dates. You were so beautiful, that guy was truly lucky. But even his luck couldn’t match Suguru’s as you put on a little show for him – trying on every tantalizing option. 

BFF! Sugu who loved watching you dress up so much he bought you more. You didn’t even need a date to have a fashion show! He just loved seeing that color on you. Oh! – And don’t even get him started on the skimpy little dresses with the ruffles. They were made for you. He couldn’t decide whether your plump butt or your squishy boobs looked better hugged by the fabric. He had to use his large hand to hide the bite he gave to his bottom lip when your cute little panties peaked through the bottom of a particularly short one. “Maybe that one is good for around the house,” he proposed. 

BFF! Sugu who had to swallow his need when you begged him to rate your lingerie. “I didn’t realize you two were at that point in your relationship,” he would try to laugh off his distaste. 

“I’ve told him no to sex for so long, I’ve been thinking maybe it's time…” you trailed off. You played with the hem of your dress as you stood in front of Suguru on the couch. He was sunk comfortably into the loveseat, legs spread wide and one of his muscled arms stretching across the back of the couch. The other on the arm rest. “Ok princess. Let’s see the options,” he spoke.

BFF! Sugu who couldn’t make it through the first set. The white lace left little to the imagination, a black bow adorned above your cute mound. “You trying to make me sweat?” A dark chuckle broke through his lips. “Sorry?” you asked him, not hearing him correctly. How silly you were to think that just because he was a friend that made him any less of a man. A hot blooded man at that – with eyes that glued to your nipples visible through the thin fabric. “The dresses were one thing, princess, but this? Don’t play dumb,” his dark eyes were now impossibly black. You were staring into the voids that indiscreetly roamed your body. It was entirely silly of you to now try and hide yourself from his hungry gaze. 

BFF! Sugu who doesn’t let you leave. You were no match against his strong grip as he pulled you onto his lap. “You’re leavin’ me no choice,” he assured you, pushing you down hard against his thigh. You tried to push away but his hands on your waist locked you in. “No choice,” he reminded you. You swallowed thickly, realizing you were completely helpless as he began guiding your hips up and down his thigh. The rough material of your panties rubbing deliciously against your clit. “Sugu s-stop,” you begged him, all breathy and hot against his ear. “You want me to stop?” Of course! He was your best friend. You didn’t want him making you feel better than you ever thought possible by just rubbing your pussy against his leg. “But you look so cute like this,” he pouted at you, “Humping my thigh like a puppy. I’ll let go – but you better stop moving your hips,” he tutted at you. You didn’t have it in you to keep your eyes open to watch yourself continuously rut against him even after he removed his hands. It wasn’t your fault his muscled thigh felt more pleasurable than any toy you could ever buy. 

Geto had plenty of girls at your school talking about their experiences with him. You spent your entire teen years hearing about his ‘magical tongue’ and ‘horse dick’. For the majority of your life you had little interest in getting to experience that part of your best friend – that was until the bastard from the baseball team. The absolute snore fest he put on for your first time was jarring. Maybe you were so used to hearing how life-changing Suguru’s hips were that you had high expectations... 

No – you were not purposefully trying to get Geto to want you. He genuinely gave good advice when it came to what looked good on you. Ok so maybe you were pushing your luck with the lingerie – but Suguru was always so level-headed. It was scary how quickly he caved.

It was even more frightening listening to his taunts hot in your ear, “Why aren’t you stopping?” You couldn’t stop now – but you would. Just a little longer. You’d find the strength to stop soon. “Tell me you want me, or I’m stopping this,” he threatened and your form shook. “Please don’t,” you begged him. “Don’t what?” he lifted your chin, making you look at him “Don’t s-stop t-this,” you squeaked out.  

BFF! Sugu whose rumors were true. His tongue was magical. His hands flew down to your hips, helping you roll deliciously against the fabric of his sweats while his wet muscle was hot against your nipples. He used his teeth to pull down the fabric so he could taste your bare bud against his tongue. He suckled and licked your sensitive nipple causing your arousal to seep past the lace of your panties. You began to soak his sweatpants but he wasn’t gonna have you stopping anytime soon. He pulled your hips into tight circles against him, overwhelming your nub. His teeth nibbled at your nipple and you jerked up at the sudden shock. His grip was bruising and you wanted – no needed more. “Sugu.. more.. need more” you sounded so pathetic. 

BFF! Sugu who was left with little choice! His princess wanted more and more she was going to get. His head kissed your entrance, barely pushing in past the tip. You mewled, nails digging into his shoulders as he teased himself into you. “You think you can take me?” he asked you and you nodded fervently. He was thick and long – even his tip felt like he was tearing you in two. You wanted to be absolutely broken. “M-more Sugu,” you begged, trying to move your hips to sink down further. He kept you still – only allowing you to move if it was him dragging you down against him. Your slick was dripping down the rest of his cock, you were completely overwhelmed by the little attention he was giving you. One of his hands moved from your hips down to your clit, rubbing slow circles – barely ghosting above it. You were clenching on his fat tip and whining embarrassingly loud. He wanted to have you crying for his cock. He clicked his tongue at you, “I’m not convinced enough you want my cock.” He looked so unaffected as you shook, “I do! I need it, Sugu,” tears fell down your cheeks as you desperately tried to convince him.   

BFF! Sugu whose hips slapped against yours at a brutal pace. He had you pinned into the loveseat, head down and ass up. A creamy ring formed at the base of his unrelenting cock. Drool was seeping from your mouth and onto the couch, the only thing you could think about was the way he was pounding into that gummy spot that made you dizzy. “No one could make you feel this way,” he promised you, “this pussy was made for me.” His pace was bruising, his balls slapping against your clit. He pulled your hips up farther, making you arch your back. Everything was so noisy – the sound of you meeting his hips, the squelch of his cock pulling in and out, and his grunts each time he felt his tip kiss your cervix. Geto looooved watching you take him so well. Each time his cock disappeared inside of you, only to reappear as he roughly dragged out of you. He didn’t know if you were purposefully squeezing him each time his hips pulled back. Were you trying to keep him buried deep? “Your date won't mind if I leave my cum in you, right?” he teased you – knowing full well you wouldn’t be going anywhere after he was done with you. “Dripping out of your pussy at dinner,” you couldn’t fathom him being able to laugh right now. “What would you even tell him?” he was imagining the scene playing out in his mind, “My roommate thought I was looking a little empty. Needed to stuff me full,” His smile lazy thinking about how he was claiming you tonight. He was fucking your tight little hole deliciously, making sure you could never be satisfied by anything other than his cock. You pushed your hips into his, making sure he reached as deep as possible. “You want to cum, princess?” he picked up his pace – which you didn’t even think was possible – your tits bouncing at each thrust of his hips. You nodded, pleading for him to make you cum. “God – cum on my cock. Want t’feel you squeezin me,” the rough pad of his finger met your clit, helping your pleasure meet its peak. “I’m cumming, Sugu,” you cried out to your best friend. 

BFF! Sugu who wasn’t done with you once you came. You tried to claw at his hands on your hips, begging him to slow down. The tension in your tummy snapped, cumming undone loudly around him. He paid no mind to your pleas, “You can take more. You’re a good girl, I know you can.” He didn’t ever want to leave your snug pussy. He would fuck you all day if that’s what it took for him to feel satisfied. “Give me another, baby. Cum on my cock one more time. I know you can,” he was so filthy. You never had a guy dirty talk to you the way Geto was. He was demanding and unrelenting. It was alarming how much you enjoyed the filth leaving his lips. “How could you tell me to stop when she’s gripping me so tight – pussy doesn’t want to let go of me.” he threw his head back, “”S your fault I’m pounding you like this. I couldn't let you get away with showing me that little number.” The lingerie he was referring to was on the floor below you two, ripped into pieces from when he tore it off your body. He completely pulled out of you – leaving your pussy uncomfortably empty before flipping you over and folding you in half. He placed the back of your knees on his shoulder, wasting no time pushing himself back into you. The new angle took your breath away. His heavy frame held you down as his cock was unrelenting. When you looked down you could see his length slide in and out of you, your cute little pussy lips swallowing him whole. Your arousal coated his cock – all thick and creamy. You felt like you could pass out from the sight – not thinking it was possible to be so wet. His thumb reached down to your clit, rubbing harsh circles on it. “C’mon baby. I’m addicted to the way you squeeze my cock. Let me feel you cum again. Need it, princess,” he begged. He was slowly losing all control. You were so perfect underneath him, taking him like the good girl he always knew you were. You were wrecking him. Your sounds were so cute – choking back sobs as he fucked you to another peak. You were begging for him to cum inside you. You wanted to feel him coat your walls in his sticky juice. “Gonna pump you full,” he promised you. “Gonna feel so good stuffed full with my cum.”

BFF! Sugu who can’t stand watching his semen leak out of you. You were completely fucked out – chest heaving as you laid on the couch. Geto was still holding your legs up, trying fruitlessly to push his juices back inside of you. 

BFF! Sugu who needs to make sure you keep all of it. He didn’t even wait for you to regain your energy before his thick fingers are deep inside of you. “Can’t let a single drop go to waste,” he tells you. He curls his thick digits, pushing against the squishy spot that makes you see stars. “No more,” you breathlessly say. “Just one more. Need to make sure it all keeps,” you are completely overstimulated. The feelings of his fingers are heightened by your two orgasms – which only makes you come undone even faster. His fingers are lightening fast and your pussy sounds like it's made of water. It’s so loud and wet and you just can’t help yourself from cumming again. You’re thrashing against his unrelenting fingers, crying loud enough that your neighbors definitely hear. “That’s it. S’good for me,” he’s emotional watching you come undone so many times by his doing. You were his. His, his, his. 

BFF! Sugu who doesn’t even have to tell you to cancel your date. You couldn’t pick your head up after he was done with you. You were staying home with him – where you belonged. 

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[ijustmissyouraccenths]

The Alchemy

AU where Harry is the star quarterback at his college and y/n is an English major.

Based very loosely off The Alchemy by Taylor Swift

CW: Smut

Word Count: 6,871

Leaving my family to go to University was a bittersweet decision. My heart tugged at the thought of being away from them, but my passion for mastering the art of English pulled me towards my dream. My family had always been my biggest supporters and I wanted to make them proud by becoming an English professor. This meant leaving behind my comfortable life in a small suburban town in Florida to study abroad at one of the most prestigious universities. The campus was nestled in the very heart of where literary greats had once roamed and created their masterpieces. It was as if the walls exuded inspiration and creativity, urging me to chase after my dreams with even more fervor. Though I missed my family dearly, I knew that this journey would lead me to become the best version of myself and honor their unwavering support and love.

It was a whirlwind of experiences as I made my way through the unfamiliar streets. The currency conversion was a constant challenge, with every transaction feeling like a game of guesswork. And then there was the driving - on the opposite side of the road no less - which required all of my concentration to avoid any mishaps. But perhaps most daunting of all was the non-stop partying at pubs, a culture shock for someone like me who had grown up in a small town in America.

Thankfully, I was able to find a flat that was within walking distance from the school, and even luckier to have another American girl as my roommate. Mia was a sweet, bubbly girl from the middle of nowhere Kansas, embracing every aspect of British culture including the pub scene and the charming local lads.

Living with Mia meant constantly having people over, and it seemed like every night brought new faces into our home. I didn't mind too much, mostly enjoying the lively atmosphere and meeting new people. However, there were definitely some moments that tested my patience, like when one of Mia's friends named Arthur ended up getting sick and leaving his mark in our kitchen. Despite these occasional hiccups, I was grateful for this experience abroad and all the unique encounters it brought my way.

Though Mia's social butterfly nature could be trying at times, I appreciated her warm companionship in this foreign place. It was on one such night, after we had cleaned up the remnants of Arthur's ill-fated escapades, that we found ourselves cozied up with mugs of tea and watching the rain patter against the windows. 

Mia was unusually pensive as she stared out into the drizzly Manchester night. "You know," she began softly, "sometimes I wonder if I'm chasing the wrong dreams. My parents wanted me to become a doctor or lawyer, something stereotypically successful, but I just wanted adventure. Now here I am, living it up in England, but it all feels...empty, like I'm still searching for meaning."

I nodded thoughtfully, sensing the vulnerability in her words. Though Mia put on a bubbly facade, there was more depth to her than met the eye. 

"I think the great thing about being here is that we have time to figure it all out," I offered gently. "We're writing our own stories, not just following someone else's script." 

Mia smiled, some of the spark returning to her eyes. "You're right. That's exactly why I love being here with you."

As the rain continued to drum against the windows, Mia and I sat in comfortable silence for a moment, each lost in our own thoughts. Finally, Mia turned to me with a curious expression.

"Do you ever have doubts about your dreams, too?" Mia asked, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

I considered her question for a moment before responding, "All the time. Sometimes I wonder if I'm on the right path or if I'm just going through the motions."

Mia nodded understandingly, her eyes reflecting the shimmer of uncertainty. "It's scary, isn't it? The idea that we might wake up one day and realize we've been chasing a dream all along."

I placed a comforting hand on Mia's shoulder. "It is scary, but it's also part of the journey. We're allowed to question and evolve along the way."

She smiled weakly, her gaze drifting back to the rain-splattered window. "I guess that's what makes life interesting, right? The uncertainty of it all."

Our conversation was interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. Mia got up to answer it, revealing a group of our friends who had decided to brave the rainy night for an impromptu gathering.

"Come in, come in!" Mia exclaimed cheerfully, ushering everyone inside. The room quickly filled with laughter and chatter as our friends settled in.

As I looked around the group, my eyes landed on a few familiar faces who have crossed paths with me several times before. Among them was Arthur, a friendly face that always brought a sense of comfort and familiarity. As everyone piled into the room, my gaze wandered to him - Harry Styles, the renowned quarterback of our school's football team. I couldn't help but feel a tinge of excitement at being in the presence of such a well-known athlete. When I first arrived from the United States, I had assumed the term "football" referred to what we call soccer back home. But as I soon discovered, American Football was just as beloved and popular in the UK.

Harry noticed me looking his way and met my gaze. There was an intensity in his green eyes that made me quickly avert my own, focusing instead on my friend Grace who was animatedly sharing a story next to me. 

I tried to tune into her words, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the handsome footballer across the room. By all accounts, Harry was cocky, brash, and a bit of a player. And yet, I couldn't deny there was something magnetic about him. He carried himself with a self-assured swagger, his athletic frame filling out his clothes in a way that betrayed his strength. 

I scolded myself internally. Just because he's nice to look at doesn't change the fact that he seems like an arrogant jock. Still, when our eyes met again, I felt a flutter in my stomach I couldn't ignore. 

Harry said something to his friend that made the group erupt into laughter. He flashed a crooked smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. I quickly looked away once more, but the image of his smile lingered in my mind.

Get it together, I told myself sternly. Harry is off-limits. With his reputation, getting involved would only lead to trouble. I turned my focus back to Grace, pushing all thoughts of Harry's eyes, smile and broad shoulders out of my head. 

For the rest of the night, I avoided looking in Harry's direction, though I could feel his gaze on me periodically as the hours wore on. By the time people started trickling out, I felt certain I had avoided any direct interaction with the dashing footballer. 

That is, until I went to lock the door behind the last guest and found him standing there. He flashed that crooked smile again as he leaned against the door frame. "See you around, Y/N," he said, holding my gaze for a moment before disappearing into the night. I stood frozen, my heart racing as I replayed those five simple words in my head.

As I stood there in shock at Harry's unexpected presence, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling inside me. His parting words echoed in my mind, leaving me slightly breathless and unsure of what to make of the situation. Gathering my composure, I locked the door behind him and turned to find Mia watching me with a knowing smile.

"Looks like someone caught your eye, Y/N," Mia teased, nudging me playfully. "Harry Styles, huh? Quite the charmer."

I flushed slightly at her comment, trying to brush off any implications. "Oh, come on, Mia. It's not like that," I deflected, hoping to downplay the significance of the moment.

But Mia wasn't convinced. "Sure, sure," she replied with a wink. "Just remember, not all that glitters is gold."

Her words lingered in my mind as I bid her goodnight and retreated to my room. Sitting on my bed, I couldn't shake off the image of Harry's smile or the way he had looked at me in that brief moment by the door. The conflicting thoughts swirled in my head, leaving me restless and contemplative.

The following day at school, as I made my way through the bustling halls, I noticed a familiar figure leaning against the lockers up ahead. It was Harry, his usual confident demeanor on full display as he chatted with his friends. As our eyes met briefly, he flashed a grin in my direction before turning back to his conversation.

Feeling a surge of boldness, I approached him tentatively. "Hey, Harry," I greeted him, trying to keep my tone casual despite the flutter in my stomach.

"Hey there, Y/N," he responded with a smirk, his green eyes twinkling mischievously. "Didn't think you'd show up here again so soon."

I felt my cheeks flush at his words. Clearly he was referring to my abrupt exit last night after our brief encounter at the door. I scrambled to think of a clever response. 

"Well, we do go to the same school," I pointed out, trying to keep my voice light despite the nerves I felt. 

Harry chuckled, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he regarded me with amusement. 

"True enough," he conceded. "But I got the sense you were trying to avoid me last night. Did I make you nervous?"

His bluntness took me aback. I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. Harry's eyes danced with mirth at my flustered state. 

"Cat got your tongue?" He teased. 

I took a steadying breath, determined not to let him get the best of me. "You wish," I retorted, hoping the bravado in my voice sounded more convincing than I felt. 

Harry laughed, a rich warm sound that made my knees weak. Our eyes locked and in that moment, it was like the noisy hallway melted away and there was only the two of us.

"Feisty. I like it," he murmured. Before I could respond, the warning bell rang, snapping us both back to reality. 

"See you around, Y/N," Harry said with a wink before disappearing into the swarm of students heading to class. 

My body froze in place, heart thudding against my ribs as I gazed at the infamous Harry. He exuded an undeniable air of trouble, and yet, as our charged banter replayed in my mind, I couldn't deny the adrenaline pumping through my veins. With a determined stride, I made my way to class, refusing to let this boy be the cause of my tardiness.

I took a seat in my Studies of Shakespeare class, the one subject I truly loved. The works of William Shakespeare never failed to captivate me, and if you could understand the Elizabethan lingo, his witty humor shone through brilliantly. Unfortunately, this particular teacher seemed to have a talent for draining all the life and humor out of these masterpieces.

I tried to focus as the professor droned on about the themes in Romeo and Juliet, but my mind kept wandering back to my encounter with Harry. Something about our charged banter had awakened feelings in me that I didn't quite understand. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a folded piece of paper land on my desk as if taken out of a scene from a movie. I looked around furtively before opening it. In an unfamiliar scrawling handwriting it read:

"What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun." - H

I felt a thrill run through me and quickly tucked the note into my bag before the professor could notice. So Harry was in this class too? I scanned the room subtly until I spotted him a few rows behind me. He caught my eye and gave me a roguish wink.

I turned back to the front, trying to ignore the simmering exhilaration I felt. Over the next few days, the notes kept coming during Shakespeare class, each with a quote or two from the Bard himself. They were usually cheeky and flirtatious, hinting at some blossoming rapport between us.

I found myself anticipating each one, my heart skipping a beat when I would spot a new folded note on my desk. Our eyes would meet across the room, a hidden smile just between us.

After class one day, as I gathered my things, I sensed Harry approach my desk. "So when's our study session?" he asked nonchalantly, though there was a glint of something more in his eyes. I hesitated, knowing I should keep my distance, yet unable to deny I was intrigued.

I nervously tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, trying to appear nonchalant. "Well, I don't know... I've heard you're not the most dedicated studier," I teased, giving him a playful smile.

Harry chuckled, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Oh, but that's where you're wrong. I may not look like it, but I'm quite the Shakespeare aficionado," he replied with a grin.

I raised an eyebrow in skepticism. "Is that so? Well, I suppose we could arrange a study session... if you can prove your expertise," I challenged, a hint of challenge in my tone.

His grin widened, accepting the challenge. "Consider it done. How about we meet at the library tomorrow after school?" Harry suggested, his gaze unwavering.

I hesitated for a moment, the thrill of anticipation coursing through me. "Alright, it's a date then," I agreed, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him.

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Harry flashed me one last grin before disappearing into the bustling hallway. My heart raced with both nervousness and exhilaration as I packed up my belongings, eager for our upcoming study session.

The following day at the library, I found myself anxiously scanning the room for Harry. My pulse quickened when I spotted him sitting at a table in the corner, a stack of Shakespearean plays spread out in front of him.

I made my way over to him, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement swirling inside me. "Ready to impress me with your Shakespeare knowledge?" I asked with a teasing smile as I took a seat across from him.

Harry flashed me a charming grin. "Just watch and learn," he said confidently, picking up a copy of Romeo and Juliet and flipping to a random page.

As he began to recite lines from the play with passion and flair, I couldn't help but be captivated by his enthusiasm. His eyes lit up as he delved into each line, bringing the centuries-old words to life in a way that was both mesmerizing and captivating.

By the time our study session ended, I found myself completely enthralled by Harry's interpretation of Shakespeare's works. As we gathered our things to leave, he turned to me with a twinkle in his eye, he knew a lot more about the works than he let on to.

Harry turned to me, “So now that I’ve shown you i’m smart, I know Shakespeare, when are you coming to one of my games?” he asked confidently.

I was taken aback by his forward invitation. Attending one of his football games felt intimate in a way that made me nervous. 

"Oh, um, I don't know..." I fumbled over my words, suddenly feeling shy. 

Harry tilted his head, giving me a crooked smile. "Come on, it'll be fun. I'll even give you a personal tour of the field afterwards," he joked. 

I bit my lip, considering it. There was no denying I felt drawn to him, despite trying to keep my distance. And the thought of seeing him command the field sent a little thrill through me. 

"Alright, I suppose I could stop by," I finally conceded, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear self-consciously. 

Harry's face lit up. "Brilliant! Our next game is on Friday. I'll leave a ticket for you at will call," he said eagerly.

I nodded, butterflies taking flight in my stomach. "Okay, yeah. I’ll see you then," I replied softly. 

Harry gave me a dazzling smile and I felt my knees go weak.

Friday night arrived and I found myself filled with nervous excitement as I made my way to the football stadium. I couldn't believe I had actually agreed to come watch Harry play. As I approached the ticket booth, I gave my name and they handed me the ticket Harry had left for me. 

I found my seat in the packed bleachers and waited anxiously for the game to start. When the players rushed onto the field, I immediately spotted Harry's mop of curly hair. He looked focused and determined as he took his position on the field. 

As the game began, I was immediately drawn in by Harry's commanding presence on the field. His movements were fluid and precise, each pass and dodge executed with passion and skill. With each successful play, the crowd erupted into thunderous cheers, mirroring my own excitement. It was impossible not to join in, jumping to my feet and cheering for Harry along with everyone else.

At halftime, Harry made his way over to the sidelines, sweat glistening on his forehead and tattooed arms, his chest heaving from exertion. As he scanned the crowd for familiar faces, his eyes locked onto mine and a wide grin spread across his face. He waved enthusiastically, causing my cheeks to flush as I shyly waved back in return. 

In the second half of the game, Harry's presence seemed to radiate even more brightly. With each touchdown he scored, his fists pumped triumphantly in the air. The crowd roared and cheered as he ripped off his helmet and hoisted it victoriously above his head, his teammates swarming around him in celebration.

As the stadium emptied out, I stayed behind with a swarm of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I couldn't wait to see Harry once again. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he emerged from the locker room, his hair still damp from his post-game shower but his eyes shining with joy.

"So, what did you think?" he asked eagerly as he approached me.

"You were truly spectacular out there," I gushed earnestly. A wide grin stretched across Harry's face.

"Come on, let me give you that promised tour," he said playfully, offering me his arm. Laughing, I happily took it and followed him onto the empty field, my heart racing with excitement and admiration for the amazing athlete by my side.

Harry led me onto the empty stadium field, the night air crisp and cool against our skin. He pointed out spots on the grass where pivotal plays had happened, describing them with a passion that revealed his deep love for the game. 

I found myself enthralled, leaning into him as we walked, his arm solid and warm beneath my hand. When we reached the middle of the field, he turned to face me. His eyes were soft, searching my face in the dim glow of the stadium lights. 

"You know, I was afraid you wouldn't come tonight," he admitted quietly. 

I tilted my head. "Why's that?"

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "You never seemed to like me much before. I figured I wasn't your type."

Heat rose to my cheeks. He wasn't wrong - I'd unfairly judged him as arrogant and cocky. But tonight had shattered those assumptions. 

"I guess I realized there's more to you than meets the eye," I said softly. 

Harry's smile widened. He lifted his hand, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. My breath caught at his touch. Slowly, he leaned in. I let my eyes fall shut in anticipation...

But suddenly, the stadium lights flickered off, plunging us into darkness. We jumped apart in surprise. 

Harry laughed. "Guess that's our cue to head out." 

He took my hand, interlacing our fingers, and led me towards the parking lot. I walked close beside him, hyper-aware of his palm pressed against mine.

As he towered over me, Harry's eyes scanned the street, searching for a car. "Where did you park?" he asked, his voice deep and smooth.

I shifted nervously on my feet, avoiding eye contact. "Oh. Uh. I didn't drive. I just live around the street," I murmured, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. The thought of navigating English roads was terrifying to me.

A warm chuckle escaped from Harry's lips as he looked back down at me. "I can drive you home, love," he offered, extending a hand towards me. His scent wafted towards me - a mix of cologne and something woodsy - and I couldn't help but feel a flutter in my stomach at his closeness.

As Harry and I walked towards his car, our hands still entwined, I felt a sense of excitement and anticipation build within me. "So, tell me more about this amazing game-winning touchdown," I teased, trying to break the silence that had fallen between us.

Harry laughed softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he glanced at me sideways. "Oh, you mean the one where I body-slammed the other team's runner into oblivion?" He pretended to flex his muscles playfully. "That was pretty epic, if I do say so myself."

I shook my head, feigning disbelief. "You're such a show-off," I said with a grin. "I bet you were the star of the school playground too."

Harry snorted. "Hardly. I was more of a loner growing up. Spent most of my time with my nose buried in books."

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow in surprise. "And here I thought all jocks were brain-dead."

He laughed again, his laughter echoing through the empty streets as we walked towards his car. When we finally reached it, Harry unlocked the door and gestured for me to get inside. As I slid into the passenger seat, I couldn't help but notice how perfectly he filled the driver's seat - broad shoulders tapering down to narrow hips and long legs. The image of him all sweaty and wet from a shower flashed through my mind, making my cheeks heat up again.

"So," Harry began as he started the engine and pulled out onto the road, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, "tell me more about yourself."

I felt myself blush even harder at his directness but decided to play along. "Well," I said slowly, thinking quickly. "I'm a huge bookworm too - Harry Potter is probably my favorite series ever."

Harry chuckled softly as he glanced at me briefly before looking back at the road. "I can see why you fit right in here in England then."

We drove through the quiet streets in companionable silence for a while before Harry spoke up again. "You know, you don't have to act all tough around me," he said quietly, his eyes still on the road as he slowed down at a stoplight.

I turned to face him fully now, surprised by his words. "I wasn't trying to be tough," I said defensively. "I just didn't want you to think that... well, never mind what I didn't want you to think," I muttered under my breath.

Harry's face softened into a gentle smile as he reached out to brush a strand of hair behind my ear once again - a gesture that sent shivers down my spine despite the warmth of the car interior. "It's okay," he murmured soothingly as he took my hand in his once more and squeezed gently before letting go when the light turned green again.

The rest of our drive was filled with more easy conversation punctuated by moments of awkward silence broken only by the sounds of our breathing and occasional traffic noises outside. When we finally pulled up outside my house I found myself hesitating before opening the car door knowing that this was goodbye.

Under the dim glow of the street lamp, I tentatively turned to face Harry. "Thanks for...for tonight," I stammered out, suddenly self-conscious under his intense gaze. 

His emerald eyes twinkled mysteriously as he simply nodded and began unbuckling his seatbelt. His eyes never left mine, setting off a simmering warmth between us that was hard to ignore. 

"I should probably walk you to your door," he said softly, accentuating each word with an inexplicably seductive lilt. My heart pounded in my chest as we exited the car and made our way towards my apartment.

Once at the front door, we stood facing each other in silence, the air around us thick with unspoken words and desires. I felt his strong fingers gently cradle my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. The intensity of this simple touch sent sparks racing down my spine, pooling heat in places I hadn't even known existed.

"Can I come inside?" His voice was barely a whisper but it echoed loudly in my ears.

My mind screamed caution but my body had other plans. “Yes,” I breathed out, unlocking the door and pulling him inside.

Inside, Harry's lips found mine in a searing kiss that left me breathless. His tongue teased against mine, creating a warm and delicious friction that sent shivers down my legs. As he pressed his hips against me, I could feel the unmistakable hardness growing between us. Our hands roamed freely over each other's bodies, exploring new territory and seeking pleasure through every touch.

Harry's fingers made their way to the waistband of my skirt, pulling it down over my hips and letting it fall to the ground. He lifted me up onto the edge of a nearby table, spreading my legs slightly as he stood between them. The feel of his fingers brushing against my inner thigh caused me to gasp and arch my back in anticipation.

Harry pulled back abruptly,“I’m sorry,” He started, “that was really inappropriate.”

As Harry apologized, his eyes were drawn to the hint of my arousal peeking out from between my legs. His hesitation vanished as his fingers brushed against my wetness once more, this time without pulling away. He groaned in approval and leaned forward, pressing his lips against mine once more. I craved him in the worst ways.

Our tongues tangled as he pushed me back onto the table, spreading my legs further apart. His hands found their way under my shirt, skimming over my stomach before lifting it up, exposing my bra-clad breasts. He took a deep breath, inhaling my scent and trailing his fingers lightly across one tight nipple.

"Harry," I moaned, cavinginto his touch. "Please don't stop."

He smirked wickedly down at me before pulling back slightly. In one swift motion, he yanked my shirt over my head, tossing it aside carelessly. Grabbing hold of both sides of my bra, he pulled it down too with such force that my breasts were freed from their confinement.

I gasped at the sudden rush of air hitting my sensitive nipples but before I could catch my breath, he took one of them into his mouth sucking hard while pinching the other between two fingers, teasing it mercilessly.

"Fuck," I whimpered, clawing at the table underneath me as pleasure coursed through me like lightning. The intense mix of pain and pleasure sent waves of desire crashing over me as I felt myself becoming wetter with every passing second.

Sliding one hand down towards his pants, I slowly undid the button and zipper before slipping my hand inside his boxers to grip him firmly around his growing erection. He groaned into my breast at the contact sending shivers down my spine.

"You want me to fuck you?" he whispered hoarsely against my skin leaving a trail of saliva along my collarbone as he ran his tongue upwards caressingly .

"Yes," I breathed out between parted lips unable to form complete words due to the intensity of emotions running through me. 

My heart raced as his erection throbbed in my hand. I could feel the heat radiating off his skin, mixed with the desire that seemed to emanate from him. His other hand slid down my back, over my ass cheeks, and gripped them roughly, pulling me closer against his hardness.

"Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are? You and your little shy good girl act" he growled into my neck, nipping at the skin there softly. With one swift movement, he lifted me up onto the countertop, pushing my legs apart with his hips. His mouth trailed kisses along my jawline, down my throat, and on my breasts. 

I arched my back slightly offering myself to him more fully as he took a hungry mouthful of one of my nipples into his mouth sucking on it hard while pinching the other between his fingers causing a sharp intake of breath from me which made him smile devilishly before moving on to devour the other one.

My body trembled with anticipation as he bit my neck playfully, his rough hands sliding over my hips and ass cheeks before pulling me against him. His cock twitched against my wet core, making me whimper in want. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice low and husky. "You're so fucking beautiful."

"Harry," I moaned, my voice reduced to a desperate whimper as he continued teasing me with his words and touches. "Please..."

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with our ragged breathing and the occasional moan. I could feel myself getting lost in the sensations, my body responding eagerly to his movements. His hands were everywhere, tracing over my curves and gripping me tightly as he pounded into me.

My own hands were roaming his back, digging into his flesh as I tried to hold on to something amidst the overwhelming pleasure that was coursing through me. Every inch of my body felt on fire, and I couldn't get enough.

"Fuck," he grunted, his face contorting with pleasure. "You feel so good."

I whimpered in response, unable to form any coherent words as he continued to move inside me relentlessly. My whole world had narrowed down to this moment – his body against mine, the sound of our bodies coming together in a perfect rhythm.

My mind was blissfully blank as he increased his pace, his thrusts becoming rougher and more urgent. I could feel my climax building up within me, like a fire threatening to consume me whole.

And then it hit me like a tidal wave – intense and all-consuming. My back arched off the counter as I cried out his name, my body trembling with pleasure as every nerve ending exploded with ecstasy.

He followed soon after, letting out a loud groan as he spilled himself inside me. We stayed still for a moment, trying to catch our breaths and bask in the aftermath of our passion.

But eventually reality came crashing back around us. Panic started creeping up inside me as I tried to gather my thoughts and make sense of what had just happened. 

As I lay there, my heart still pounding in my chest, he gently pulled out of me and straightened up. His eyes, dark with desire just moments ago, now softened with a mixture of tenderness and regret.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of our heavy breathing. "I shouldn't have let things go this far."

I sat up slowly, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me – confusion, guilt, and a lingering sense of pleasure that refused to dissipate. 

"It's not just your fault," I murmured, avoiding his gaze as I tried to gather my clothes around me. "I wanted this too."

He reached out a hand to touch my arm, but hesitated before making contact.

"We should talk about this," he said finally, his tone serious. "About what it means for us."

I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his words settling between us. What had started as a moment of passion had now morphed into something more complicated, something that demanded attention and discussion.

As we dressed in silence, the air in the room felt charged with unspoken thoughts and emotions. The intensity of our physical connection lingered like a ghost between us, refusing to be ignored.

We began to gather our clothes from around the room, now tainted with the evidence of our reckless choices. Harry buried his face into his shirt before pulling it on, perhaps ruminating on what just occurred, or maybe trying to drown out the reality with the lingering scent of his cologne.

"Y/n," he started after a long silence, pulling his trousers up. His voice sounded strained, an indication that he was struggling with the right choice of words. "I... I didn't mean for this to... I mean, I like spending time with you." He sighed heavily, rubbing his face between his large palms.

I remained silent as I fastened my bra. The finality in his voice was suffocating, making it harder for me to breathe with each passing moment. I felt my heart thumping loudly in my chest – a crude reminder of the complication we had willingly dived into.

"I like you, Y/N," he said finally, his voice a hoarse whisper. The words hung in the air between us, hovering like a dense fog, obscuring any clarity that might lie beyond.

I stopped fumbling with my blouse, my fingers stilled by his confession. "Harry," I began, my voice barely audible. Fear clung to me, making my words tremble.

"I know," he cut me off before I could finish what I started. "I know we're both in different places... Me with football and you with your studies." There was a tingling silence after his statement, as if he was waiting for me to confirm or deny his declaration.

I sighed heavily, tugging at the hem of my blouse, feeling the cool fabric against my still heated skin. "It's not that simple Harry," I admitted, blinking back tears that had started to sting my eyes. "This," I motioned around the room, encompassing our discarded underwear strewn haphazardly around the room - a silent testament to the passion that had just consumed us, "this complicates things."

He ran his hand through his tousled hair and nodded solemnly. "I understand," he replied, a hint of resignation etching lines onto his face. His gaze was heavy with something akin to regret as it met mine.

My breath hitched in my throat at the intensity of his stare. I wanted desperately to reach out and ease the burden that seemed to weigh heavily on him. But reality was an insidious shadow that lurked in our midst, reminding us of the impracticality of our desires.

"I think it's better if we keep our distance for now," Harry broke the silence after what felt like an eternity. His words were like cold water dousing the fire that our bodies had kindled only moments ago.

A feeling of sudden emptiness clawed at me. His words, though probably said in goodwill, felt like a punch to my gut. I swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

I nodded, unable to bring myself to utter a word. He stepped towards me and for a moment I thought he would pull me into his arms one last time. But he merely extended a hand that I shook lightly, the gesture felt impersonal after the intimacy we had just shared.

Without another word, he turned and left the room. I stood still in the silence that followed, the sound of his departing footsteps echoing in my ears long after he was gone.

Mia came home later that night, oblivious to the charged atmosphere that still lingered, suffocating and heavy in the air. Her chatter about an extra credit assignment she’d completed was a stark contrast to the silence that had enveloped the room just hours ago. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” she asked suddenly, noticing my distant gaze. I gave her a weak smile in response before excusing myself to bed.

As I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, Harry's words echoed through my mind. "I think it's better if we keep our distance for now." His voice was etched into my memory, roughened by regret and something else I couldn't quite place. His face bore an expression that told me this was as hard for him as it was for me.

The next day was a blur. My classes seemed trivial compared to the turmoil swirling in my mind. My interactions with others were mechanical and flat as if I was watching myself from outside my body.

Football practice was going on when I walked past the field on my way back from the campus library. My eyes instinctively sought out Harry among the sea of players. I found him focused on his game, every muscle in his body straining as he kicked the ball towards the goalpost.

His world seemed unchanged—still revolving around football—while mine felt like it had been knocked off its axis.

The following weeks were no easier. Everywhere I went, I could feel his presence like a phantom pain - a dull ache that refused to fade away. In every conversation, every song playing in the background, every corner of campus - Harry was there.

I knew we had made a rational decision, given our circumstances. But my heart couldn't comprehend what my mind had already accepted.

Months passed and winter set in, blanketing Manchester in white. Serene and beautiful yet so melancholy it mirrored my mood perfectly. The once familiar campus looked different under the soft glow of the snow as if to mirror the change that had occurred in my life.

One evening, as I was walking back from the library, I spotted Harry sitting alone on a bench, bundled up in a thick coat, his breath misting in the frigid air. His eyes were trained on the football field, currently blanketed by snow, and his hands were tucked into his pockets, his usual energy replaced by a pensive quietness.

I hesitated, weighing my options. We hadn't spoken since that night – the night when our worlds collided and then abruptly fell apart. But something drew me towards him – an inexplicable magnetism I had been fighting for so long.

Stepping tentatively closer, I cleared my throat to announce my presence. "Harry," I said softly, trying not to startle him.

He looked up at the sound of my voice, surprise flickering across his features before they settled into guarded neutrality. "Y/N," he responded with a curt nod, but made no move to invite me to sit.

Taking a leap of faith, I lowered myself onto the bench next to him, maintaining some distance while also bracing for the icy cold through my jeans. For several minutes we sat in silence, lost in our own thoughts as we stared out at the snowy field.

"I've missed you." The words slipped out before I could stop them.

He turned toward me then, his emerald eyes soft and searching as they met mine. His lips opened as if to say something but closed again as if reconsidering his words.

"Y/N..." His voice trailed off and there was a long pause before he continued. "I’ve missed you too."

Relief washed over me at his confession but it was quickly replaced with a gnawing sadness as I realized that missing each other wasn’t enough to bridge the gap between us. Our realities were still the same - he was still the star football player with ambitions bigger than Manchester itself and I was still an English major trying to carve out a place for myself in academia.

“Do you ever think about…?” I started, swallowing hard as I tried to voice the question that had been eating at me.

“Us?” He completed my sentence, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze was heavy but he held it steady, openly showing the vulnerability he usually kept hidden beneath his star athlete facade. “All the time.”

The honesty in his confession hit me harder than I expected. We were both stuck in our respective worlds, looking at each other from afar but never truly reaching out.

I took a deep breath, feeling the biting winter air fill my lungs before exhaling slowly. “We can’t keep doing this, Harry,” I said finally, breaking the silence that had fallen between us.

He looked at me then, his gaze filled with understanding and something else I couldn't quite place. “I know,” he replied softly, his eyes never leaving mine.

The future was uncertain and full of challenges. But if there was one thing I had learnt from this whole ordeal, it was that some chances are worth taking. No matter how daunting they may seem.

#harry styles one direction #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles masterlist #harry styles smut #one direction #harry styles x reader #hs live #otra tour #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic rec #harry styles fandom #one shot #harry styles blurb #harrystylesau #harrystylesfanfiction #harry styles fanart #harrystylessmut

[whalefill]

art process PLEASE i love your art sm i need to steal your style asl;jfdl;asjdf

thank you! finding an art style you're happy with just takes time and intuition, but i can still show you how i go about mine - using this fancy goldfish as our guide :)

step 1: sketch your drawing and don't feel the need to be as neat as I was here. step 2: clean up your sketch, or line it. i usually choose the former, but it mostly depends how much of a mess the sketch is and which option i know is going to take more effort. (i also prefer to do this because i think it gives my art more fluidity and emotion! line work is tough for me that way!)

step 3: lay in your flat colors. step 4: shading/rendering of those colors; usually pretty minimal for me. step 5: further rendering, but this time on top of your line work. i get really lost in these steps, playing around with different hues and values until i feel the drawing come to life. again, it just takes intuition. (i'm a self taught artist so i literally can't tell you how i learned any of this shit, it just happened, i'm just as confused as you are)

also, note: i merge my layers as i work. some people think that's chaotic but for me it keeps things simple. that brings us into the next part, which is

step 6: create an overlay layer and clip it to your drawing, because it's magical and it makes all of your colors more vibrant and cohesive‼ 👍😼 (i don't always do a gradient like this, but the drawing was pretty monochromatic so i thought it looked nice)

step 7: miscellaneous final touches like highlights, and then most importantly, add texture. for me, since i use paint tool sai, this is "paper" under "texture" in the paints effect window in the top right corner. can't tell ya how it's done elsewhere. sometimes i take a random image of colored static off of google and create an overlay of that, for texture, too.

thats pretty much it man

#thanks for askin i had fun explaining to be honest #asks #anon #soup sketch

[elsa-fogen]

what do you think about the fact that al likes doodling?

i have a head canon that he has some sort of scrapbook or sketchbook full of little doodles of things going on at the hotel and just in his life, I feel like he would draw really stick-figureish (is that a word?) but I read a fic that depicted it as the same art style as an Invader-Zim obsessed scene girl and I could not stop cackling.

I also feel like he would either guard it with his life from everyone (exception to Rosie, of course) or just not bother to tell anyone and one day they just find him doodling schoolgirl style, kicking his legs in the air, LMAO NEW THOUGHT WHAT IF CHARLIE OR LUCIFER FOUND IT

OH! OH! Now that you mentioned it - i LOVE that about him! I just absolutely ADORE little thing he made for the add in the first episode. And i love this fact because 1) he's the first character i like that likes to draw canonically (okay maybe also toothless from httyd?) 2) Me and Alastor share so many similarities, and even drawing???? This just makes me love him even more (i'm sure we would hate each other irl tho AHAHHAHAHA or maybe not, idk)

SO, SINCE ME AND AL ARE SO SIMILAR, I'M GONNA PROJECT ON HIM MY DRAWING HABITS >:3c Forgive me this one, i usualy don't do that, i usualy project characters on myself haha

He DOES have sketchbooks just to draw, and they are ORGANISED. He's numbers every sketchbook and counts every drawing in them since the first one. He also has two numbers for each page - through one sketchbook and through them all. He has over 300 of sketchbooks by now (I have less, only 56). They are stashed somewhere in a very safe place.

Every sketchbook has a date of first and last drawing. Also amount of drawings. It looks like: NOTEBOOK 253 (number of sketchbook, also he doesn't call them sketchbooks) 03.06.1978-05.07.1978 (dates while it was active) 119 (amount of drawings) 29961-30080 (which numbers of drawings are in this sketchbook) He would cound something else, but he's just too busy to spend time on it. He can remember something thinking about what he was drawing in that period and vice versa

He used to draw at overlords meetings, pissing off Carmila and everyone else, because it looked like he hadn't listened to them, so Carmila banned drawing at overlords meetings (Alastor is still angry about it)

But he doesn't progress too much - most of his progress was made through first 10-20 sketchbooks, now he only has slight style changes sometimes when he feels like it

Tho he's really proud of his current skill and used to think that he's literally the best (used to get angry when reminded that it's not true) (now he kinda knows, but still likes his own drawings, doesn't accept criticism and doesn't try to purposely improve)

He likes showing his drawings to people, he knows and if he does, you have to say that it's literally So Cool, show enthusiasm turning pages and say that everything is just amazing. If you don't, he'll be OFFENDED. He also can leave a sketchbook opened on a page with a drawing he likes the most, and it's like a sign "NOTICE THAT I'M DRAWING AND SAY THAT YOU LIKE IT"

If he considers you a friend (well not like Rosie, but at least like Charlie), he'll be showing you his drawings regularly (and you have to be enthusiastic about it!!!!!!) He has showed it to Charlie, but somehow her enthusiasm is... too much. She's too patronising about it. He also shows his things to Husk, he knows that Husk is annoyed and doesn't give a shit, and he just enjoys his annoyance. He also shows his drawings to Niffty and she gives him Just Right amount and vibe of enthusiasm. (He sometimes draws something for her fanfiction if he likes something enough and enjoys Niffty's reaction (she explodes from happiness)). BUT!!!!! He never shows anything to Mimzy. Because she's like, person from the real life, and he feels like she would laugh at it. To Rosie he shows only things he considers his best and her opinion is the most important to him. He can even forgive her criticism (wouldn't take it tho) (she never critisizes him and absolutely ADORES his drawings). Angel kinda likes his drawings, but isn't enthusiastic about them enough

He doesn't take requests (Angel tried "draw me like one of your french girls" shit, Alastor never did (also his ass did not get the reference and he was like "i dont??? have??? any french girls????")) (Vox also tried to make Alastor draw something for him, Alastor was just "that's interesting, i'll think about it" and never thought of it again)

SOME OF HIS DRWINGS TURNED OUT TO BE PROPHECIES but he notices that only when something happens and then he goes back to his old sketchbooks and accidentally finds it. They are just coincidenses tho, but it's fun and Alastor makes a big deal from it and screams to Rosie like "I PREDICTED THAT SHIT 27 YEARS AGO" when finds out. (it's how i predicted many plot points from SU and literally TOH hunter's possession before the show even was a thing JHJDFJHFGJFDHKH i wonder if i predicted something from Hazbin, i need to look through my sketchbooks now)

If you dare to mess with his drawings and vandalise them... oh... you better pray to whatever god you belive in to make your sufferings be enough to redeem your sins and go to heven.

#hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #sudden ask lol #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #the radio demon #alastor the radio demon #radio demon #radiorose #platonic radiorose #hazbin headcanons #hazbin hotel text post

[keishawantskisses]

Oh, nothing much, just a list of reasons why I am so excited to permashift to my ultimate 4d reality //better current reality//

∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘

— EXPERIENCING DESIRED SCENARIOS

I am a hardcore daydreamer just like my brother and sister shifters(you guys🫵🏾), and I can't wait to really live the silly imagines I always have in my head. Even if it's something relatively small, I will still get to live every second of them.

Idk if some of you guys will remember that one post where I mentioned Googlebox? But I'm mentioning it again🙄 because I scripted me, my love of my life, his sister who is my bff, my own girl bff and her boyfriend are part of the program teehee. I swear no one will ever understand how much of a comfort show Googlebox is to me and in general.

The idea of being on TV whilst watching TV and relaxing with my favourite people and eating my favourite food just makes me melt. It's such a core memory to me and idk I just love showing off how perfect my family is to everyone else

— FOOD

I can't wait for all the delicious food I'll get to eat. There will never be a single time where I have to eat something I don't like or don't want to ever again, because why should I have to? I'm mostly excited to have stuff like popeyes, McDonald's, seafood boils, those Korean and Japanese foods you see on mukbangs, loads of fruit bowls (I really do love fruit), basically everything meat/barbecue, pasta including ramen, and sweets too cus🧍🏿‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️

— NO UGLY CLOTHES ALLOWED

Never will there be a day or night where I will ever need to wear clothes that don't suit me or clothes I don't like. My closet is going to be full of the cutest and gorgeous late 90s and early 2000s skirts, shirts, bellbottoms, flares, jackets, oversized ts, shorts, belts, slippers, jewelry, panties and bras etc etc

— ALREADY COMPLETED WORK

In my better cr, I scripted that I am already miles ahead of everyone in college work (and best believe all my work is at distinction level) so I have all the time in the world to do what I want until the next brief; I also scripted the date of month that I will wake up in my better cr in is the 16th April last week so I will have only 3 days of college next week (because i go in on mondays, tuesdays, wendsays and Thursdays) and 4 weeks of freedom to myself. (I also scripted my teachers let me do my own art work in my free time in class, cus sometimes all a girl wants to do is draw their ocs🥺)

— CURRENTLY IN MY MOVING ERA

In better cr, I am kind of in the planning process of moving out of my house to my apartment penthouse with my friend group. I'm thinking of moving out at 18 or 19 years old since I'm 17 rn and I still want to explore my better cr house cus it's wayyyy better than this one. But even once I've moved out I'll probably keep visiting my old home where my mum and her husband lives because.

∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘

Overall, I am so excited to experience everything I have ever dreamed of. I know I deserve my freedom and peace, excitement, and joy. Being able to just do what I want when I want and always knowing that no matter what, everything is going to be okay.

Life is so amazing, and it's so worth living. I know I will manifest my desired reality in no time, and I know all of the stress, time, anxiety, and patience won't be for nothing. Life is mine to explore, and I can't wait to do so

@4ellieluv @livingmydreamlife5555 @theshifterbear @cocozydiaries

#desired reality #master manifestor #4d reality #law of assumption #shiftblr #drself #loa #shifters #shifting #loa blog #loa advice #loassumption #loa tumblr #loa success #reality shift #shifted #reality shifting #shifttok #shifting community

[seireitonin]

Quick rant on some stupid discourse

“This fandom doesn’t take horror seriously!1!!1!1 it’s just a bunch of ocs!1!1!1!1😡” Bro, Creepypasta has always been goofy af. Even the word“Creepypasta” sounds goofy. Literally every Creepypasta Character is someone’s oc, made my a traumatized angsty teen or young adult in 2011-2016. You expect us to read some silly shit like Jeff the Killer and be shaking in our boots? (Still like Jeff btw) Get real. I like the “realistic and scary” portrayals of the Creepypasta characters too! But I also love fanon. This fandom was literally based off fun. I hate when ppl come with this “im better than you” mindset bc they don’t like fanon/ want them to be scary only. I really can’t stand it. This fandom has always been based on fun and comfort. Everyone made the popular Creepypasta characters for fun and sometimes to vent/ be a self insert. Ppl are acting like we didn’t have comics and fics where they lived in a mansion together and chilled like a family with a y/n insert because ppl were comforted by these characters , myself included. Ppl act like we didn’t always have goofy/ silly fan art. Ppl act like these aren’t vent characters that brought comfort to lots of ppl. Ppl act like the creators themselves didn’t make silly, goofy fun content with their own characters. (Laughing jack, ticci Toby, bloody painter, etc for example all their creators drew them/ portrayed in fun ways in content I still rewatch) Let’s not forget our roots. Creepypasta (the character based side of it) is still so loved and popular because of the fun stuff like that that people can look back on fondly. Why does it make you so mad that ppl want to use the characters differently than you/ make fanon content? So these “ocs” are only decent/ okay when you use them your way and have your seal of approval??? Please be serious. This is coming from someone who likes Fanon and canon. One isn’t better than the other. You’re not better than everyone else because you want to make them “realistic and scary” let that mindset go. Let people have fun. Let people find comfort where they want. Seeing people having fun and being comforted shouldn’t make you mad. The block button exists and is free. Just block them and only interact with the side of the fandom you want to see. There’s multiple sides of it. I block content I don’t want to see all the time. Doesn’t mean I hate these people or their content, I just don’t want to see it personally. But I don’t go around unironically shaming people for content I don’t like. Because that’s dumb. (Unless it’s something awful like using offenderman, demonizing mental illness etc I have called people out for this, semi - respectfully before) Shaming people for not portraying Creepypasta characters made my angsty teens and adults in the way you specifically want to see them/ be portrayed is just so silly. This fandom doesn’t revolve around you and what you want. Or anyone for that matter. Respect other people. No one’s “better” than anyone. Because everyone sees and uses and portrays the characters differently and that’s always been the best part of this fandom. The freedom, creativity, fun and comfort. That’s how it’s always been. Nothings changed.

#creepypasta #creepypasta hcs #creepypasta characters #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta headcanon #crp #seiretonin #creepypastafandom #rant

[catmask]

do you ever find it hard to just....Keep Drawing? what keeps you motivated? what keeps you inspired? i've been finding it hard to pick up a pen lately despite loving drawing and wanting to do it more than anything, how do you do it? also, i hope you have a nice day!!

oh i absolutely do. i think like.. last night i was having a bit of a rough one. and talking to my boyfriend about it.

sometimes motivation for anything (not just art) feels like if i stop moving, ill fall flat on my face. its difficult for me to get going, especially if i get interrupted or get suddenly thrown into a social situation.

on one hand, drawing has always been my stim/self soothing activity of choice (as im autistic). but 'work drawing' can sometimes be difficult when im scared i might be interrupted in the middle of the day, or if someone might need me to like 'be a person' suddenly.

all this to say, i try my best to stay motivated by taking care of my body and my brain, because if those things go out of whack then i know for sure i wont be able to draw well. and then, in terms of artistic motivation... i look at other people's art, and i go on walks a lot.. and i spend a lot of time alone with my brain/feelings.

art sort of is just like... an engine through which i am taking the outside world, processing it and pulling it through to show everyone how i feel about it. sometimes its as simple as 'this thing was beautiful, i want to show you' 'this thing was cute, i want to show you' but sometimes its also 'this is something i learned, let me teach you' 'this is something that hurt me, let me heal it with you'

... in a lot of ways if i dont keep drawing, i dont know how id communicate with other people, really. so i guess, i have to keep drawing because id get very lonely otherwise.

#mailbox

[elismor]

I see a lot of posts going by about comments and kudos and hits and...well... I've been thinking about the three quite a lot lately--as both a fic author and someone who spends a lot of my professional life looking at web metrics and determining which are actually important/accurate measures of user engagement.

Mileage varies, of course. And this is all just MY opinion, so do feel free to ignore it wholesale.

What I think when I see someone say that sorting by a hits to to kudos ratio is a good way to find "good" fic:

Hits are a measure of quantity (how many times your story or art has been viewed), but without knowing how AO3 defines a hit, it's actually kind of a meaningless number.  We know that our own views of our work do not count toward hits, but...if my BFF looks at my story 7 times in one day because she keeps trying to read it but getting interrupted...is that one hit, or seven? And if it's seven, then the numbers are artificially inflated because it's really just Bestie trying to get her Codex fix. And...if Bestie looks at it three times today and four tomorrow...is that 7 hits total, or two? 

Some transparency on the part of AO3 could clear this up handily, but until we get that...shrug. All it is is a number that may or may not be an accurate reflection of how many actual people looked at the page your fic is on.  Did they READ it? Or did they nope out?  No way to know.

Kudos are intended to be slightly more qualitative, but there is no way of knowing why the reader gave them. (Similar to likes here on tumblr.) It might be that they loved the piece. It might be a simple acknowledgement that the reader was there. It might even be a pity kudo. We have no way of knowing. It's, again, just a number.

Obviously, everyone is free to interpret both hits and kudos as positive reaction/interaction. I might do that myself if I didn't spend my workdays explaining to people that 50,000 "hits" to the website could be 50K people who came to learn about us or...simply the result of the computer labs on campus having the university homepage set to default.

Bigger numbers are just that....bigger numbers.

Comments are the only objective way to judge how someone is reacting to your fic or art.

So, what then? Sort by number of comments?

You can do that, sure. (I think. I confess I have never once gotten the AO3 search to work as well as people rave about.) But do keep in mind that many authors answer their comments. So, something with, say, 20 comments may be 20 people telling the author they loved it. Or it might be ten people and ten author-replies. OR, it might be three people having a conversation in the comments. You have to look and see.  

Bigger numbers are just bigger numbers.

Okay, fine Elis. What am I supposed to do then?

Look, I'm not your mother or your therapist and you are free to assign whatever meanings you like to these things. I, personally, find "good" fic through a combination of things including: recs, the fandom grapevine, dumb luck, events, and just...reading some of it and not feeling guilty if I nope out for some reason.

This all sounds a little depressing when laid out like this, huh? Especially when you take into account the downward trends in interacting and the rise of folks treating fic and art as content to be consumed. 

Here's what I have learned from writing fic for 30 years (well, 28 and counting):

As an author (and an artist, I would presume), you have absolutely no way of predicting which of your work will land and take hold and which will not. It's alchemy and luck and the weird (and not actual) algorithm of fandom. Sometimes, the piece you whipped out in 30 minutes and posted on the fly will land in the right person's inbox and they will share it and their friends will share it and it will get big.  Sometimes, the piece you slaved over for weeks and weeks will do that...sometimes it won't.  Sometimes your genius manifests and resonates, sometimes it does not.

My personal favorite fic of my own--the one I think is probably the best thing I have done in SW fandom-- has like 8 kudos and 4 comments (2 of which are my responses). Is it disappointing? Yes. Is it an indication that the fic is objectively "bad"? No.

The mercenary in me suggests that if you want to get lots of comments and kudos, you should pick the pairing that is THE pairing in the fandom and write for that--because that's where the eyeballs are, because that's where the connections are.  But that is not why I write, so it's just that--a very mercenary way of looking at things. Not that there is anything WRONG with doing it that way. Supply and demand run the world. If the people want Codywan and you want the people....give them Codywan. No shame in that.

And there is no shame in wanting or seeking validation for your work, either.

But it breaks my heart to see authors (and artists) give up on themselves when they do not receive piles of kudos and comments. It's not you. It's...the luck of the draw. It's...fandom. It's...an artificial and murky set of measurements that have almost no basis in anything meaningful.

Keep writing. Keep drawing. Keep sharing. You are what you make, not how people respond to it.

#let's talk about fic baby #fandom #kudos and comments

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for wanting to spend a night out with a guy?

I'm twenty, study in university and still live with my parents. I've been planning to move out since I was eighteen, but they told me to keep living at home and not get a job so I could focus on studying while they take care of me financially. This arrangement has worked mostly well in the past years save for a few small conflicts, but it's escalated in the past 3-4 months.

The issue is my time schedule. I have a very active social life, am active in the local art scene, do political work and a lot of extracurricular stuff for university (I'm a straight A student, I might add!). Because of this, and because I'm a natural night owl, I usually come home late several days a week (between 10pm and 2am) and stay out all day for most of the week. This means I can't do a lot of chores, and usually there's a lot of housework because my mum has a bit of a cleaning anxiety and wants to make sure everything is spotless 24/7.

Enter this guy, I'll call him Tim. I met him at a festival last summer and we became long distance friends. Tim has visited me for a day several times before, but this weekend he offered to come over for two days and we agreed to spend the night stargazing together without sleeping. I loved the idea and immediately said yes. It was gonna be just us, a couple energy drinks, and some bench in the city center, and I was really looking forward to it.

The thing is, my mum does not like Tim. Like, at all. She thinks he seems very sleazy and generally distrusts him because he feels "too nice" for her. Mind you, he's just a somewhat shady looking guy who is generally pretty anxious he might make a bad impression, so he overperforms the whole "respectable member of society" act a bit around new people. I've introduced him to my friend group and even the more sceptical people absolutely love him and think he's a very sweet, helpful person. In basically every stressful situation I've ever seen him in he's been deescalating, protective and helpful, and he has on several occasions been my first source of comfort when things went to hell.

Today I told my mum in an offhanded comment that I won't come home between Sunday and Monday and the situation escalated completely. She was crying, accusing me of ruining her month, saying I didn't care about this family, it got ugly. The main point she had was that I was staying out all night with someone who's a total stranger to her and she doesn't trust him at all. In the end we compromised that Tim and I would spend the night awake, but not in the city, at home.

I feel really humiliated by this whole situation and honestly, kind of betrayed, because I was promised stuff like this wouldn't happen, and it just hits in a much safer situation than ones I've been in before (I used to get blackout drunk and sleep at parties a lot.). I'm a legal adult, have been for years now and it's so disappointing that my parents still treat me like a child sometimes and are so judgy towards my friends too. At the same time, I'm wondering whether I've acted wrong too by not telling her about this earlier and not taking her concerns that seriously. I forget sometimes that I talk to Tim every day for hours, but my parents only briefly ran into him once, so of course their view of him is skewed.

PS: I should add that when I told him about this, he immediately apologized, asked if I needed anything or wanted to change the plan and decided to dig out the least offensive outfit he could find so he'd make a good impression on my parents. So he's definitely trying his best.

#am i the asshole #aita

[mhaikkun]

It’s that anon from before (with the art appreciation compliment). I’m really happy that my words were so well received. To be honest, I was feeling pretty depressed when I sent in the ask, but I felt a lot of appreciation for your work; so I thought, if I could do nothing else, I should at least try to offer my praise and gratitude. Sometimes, I don’t have much to give, but I can usually still find a way to express my love and admiration for things - as if, no matter how extreme the weather, I will always come to a river, and in it, a particularly nice leaf will be floating down the water. For me, it’s usually worth it to pluck the leaf from the surface and offer it to someone along the way in the hope that they can appreciate it and find some joy in it. In this case, I feel as if that one little leaf has been put on display. For multiple people other than you to enjoy it, well, I’m so glad I shared that I’m tearing up a little.

I'm so sad to hear that you were going through some tough times when you wrote your original ask, but I hope you know just how much you've moved people by writing what you did.

twenty-one THOUSAND people have read what you had to say! please feel free to read through the comments and quote retweets yourself to see how you've made people realize that they'd been doing this all along and you just happened to word it perfectly, or look to the future with hope that someday they can make art that can make people feel the way you felt about mine.

and this is just a lovely side-effect of sharing your words with others, but it actually drew quite a LOT of people to my twitter page to follow me because they felt that they just HAD to see the work of the artist who could elicit such heartfelt words of appreciation. I'd been feeling really down about my growth over the last several years because art is my job, and when people can't see what I do it might affect my livelihood (or even just the enjoyment of sharing my work altogether).

you've really made a difference!! you're the best!!

#mhai says #this post has reached ASTRONOMICAL levels of touching humanity!!! #please remember it always!! #ask mhai

[sunflower-fields070]

As the SMP comes to an end in just under a month, I'd like to say a few words of appreciation to you all.

To start, the Cast. You all need a lot more credit than you get. With all of the commands you do behind the scenes of lore, and all the time and effort to make cutscenes, art or cosplay, or even in minecraft, we all thank you for such a wonderful job you do. I started watching Fable SMP during August last year (Sherbert's last sherbathon) and have loved it since the first episode we watched there. Slowly, I managed to get really into it and then the brainrot hit. Though I thank you for it. Without this SMP I don't think I could ever be where I am now. You guys have created a wonderful story that helped me realise things about myself, and you all have created a safe and all-including space here on the discord server. Without that, I wouldn't be as motivated to write, or as confident to talk in VC and even sometimes show my face. Thank you.

And to you, Chatters. Thank you for all you've done to support and uplift not just me, but everyone in this community, to make a welcoming space for new people and assist them in how to quickly catch up to lore in this next month before the finale. As someone who was very nervous first joining this community and to talk on these online platforms, you have allowed me to gain comfortability and grow as a person, fanfic writer who wrote that one prison duo fic, and occasional artist. You also helped me grow comfortable with talking and sometimes even showing my face in VC, especially after I had some not-great experiences in other servers.

So in conclusion, the one thing I have to say is Thank you. <3 yes i was being sappy today, i love you guys <3

#fable smp #fsmp #fablesmpblr #sappy post #sappy hours #appreciation post #thank you so much you guys #i love you all #probably the best brainrot ive had before

[katuschka]

Olalla – Chapter One

Josh Kiszka x female OC, Jake Kiszka 4.965 words

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere. Warnings: sadness, heartbreak, talking about death, anxiety, alcohol consumption

Taglist

I had a dream that the sky above the mountains darkened, but it was just my beloved’s darkening eyes. 

I had a dream there was a lightning brightening the skies above those hills, but it was just my beloved’s cheeks that lightened. 

I had a dream in which I saw storm clouds approaching, but it was just a boy making love to his beloved. (I Had a Dream, Čechomor)

It was true that Jake and Josh had seen the world, but their trips and explorations were always restricted by time. Everything was scheduled, planned and adjusted to fit the itinerary. Wherever they went, it was – first and foremost – a “business trip”. Sometimes they had days in between shows, oftentimes just hours. Be there on time. We don’t have enough time. You can visit only one of those galleries this time. Maybe next time... They were now rapidly approaching thirty, but haven’t yet experienced the simple joy of backpacking with all its perks and benefits. Freedom being probably the most important of them. 

So, when the last show ended and it was time to fly back home, they decided to stay behind for a little while. It was a spontaneous decision, made in Josh’s hotel room after having had one too many beverages with several other people, none of whom shared their enthusiasm. Everyone just wanted to go home. They say there’s nothing like home and it’s true that there had been times when it meant something to the two of them as well, even after months spent away from it. But right now, their beds back home were cold and empty – a sad consequence, as well as a memento, of the lives they’d lived and the things they’d done. Could it have been prevented? Maybe, but what is past is past. It was the present that could and should be taken care of, and there was still the future to be shaped. 

Even though the others tried to talk sense into them and nearly succeeded, by 4 am, the two of them finally made up their minds that it was time to really choose the road. “Time to write my own fucking screenplay,” Josh said. After a short nap, they repacked the essentials, said their goodbyes and hopped the train that was supposed to take them to all those yet to be discovered places. 

Because it was summertime, last-minute accommodation options were pretty limited in larger cities. That only made it even more exciting, though, and turned out to be quite beneficial in the end. More often than not, they had to share a room that only had one king size bed. Not only they didn’t mind, it seemed as the most natural thing to do, and they welcomed it. Sightseeing or hiking during daylight hours, they didn’t want to part and disappear in their separate dens in the evening, like they did on tour. Touring – with all the rush and stress and boredom – often made them feel lonely. 

They knew they had been hurting, they were well aware of the reasons why, but there had not been enough time to come clean about it. So, now, their late night talks often ended with at least one of them crying as the reminiscences of the people who no longer wanted to be part of their lives turned into shared melancholy. 

Sharing…that’s what the trip turned out to be really about. Two brothers who once shared a womb, who later forged their mutual dreams about healing humankind through art into their shared destiny. Now they opened up to each other about how much they feared loneliness and lack of love. And it was a shared fear, too. It wouldn't be fair to say that there wasn’t enough love or affection in their lives, on the contrary. They were showered with it in great abundance. Their parents, siblings, other family members and all their numerous friends all loved them dearly and unconditionally, simply because they existed. The plentitude of it, including their mutual love for each other, shaped their personalities and nurtured their souls as they grew up. 

That’s how they learned about the importance of love. They knew very well how lucky they were. Forever grateful, they wanted to share it and to pass it on…and then they were told that they didn’t. The reality hit them in their faces like a freight train loaded with reproach.

That’s how they found themselves mourning the kind of love they thought they failed to provide, the one they thought they consequently didn’t deserve. Once they conceded this to each other, they had to face the fact that they felt ashamed. They also had to admit that their own broken hearts still hurt, the raw and barely healed wounds opening up again during those midnight talks. A few times they fell asleep in a comforting embrace. 

Wawel Castle, Krakow 

“I think we should head back to the hotel.” 

When Jake came back from the bathroom, Josh was still leaning over the railings, looking down at the river bend just below the high stone outer wall. He felt so much at peace up here, the fragrant summer air saturated with the scent of trees, damp stone, vanilla ice cream – as well as sudden whiff of ozone – filling his nostrils. They weren’t alone here. The courtyard was still full of people at this time of day, but the humidity muffled all the conversations as well as shrieking kids that were running around, and turned it all into a pleasant hum. It all felt almost dreamlike. Somewhere in the distance, less than a hundred miles further south, were the mountains…

Their adventure was nearing the end, it was their time to fly home the next day. It had rained heavily that morning and the forecast for the whole day promised volatile weather as the fronts collided, but that didn’t stop them. There were still a few places in Krakow which particularly Josh wanted to visit. Not really in a hurry, they went out for early lunch; later they were just idling around in the old town, eating pretzels and doughnuts, drunk on wine. It was almost 5 pm now. 

“You're probably right,” Josh finally replied, looking at the sky with a frown, “but I’d really love to stay here a little longer.” 

Jake didn’t say anything, just nodded. They stood next to each other for another ten minutes, overlooking the southern part of the city as well as ominous clouds that had formed near the horizon and were now slowly approaching. The wind was rising, playing with their hair, tossing the strands wildly from side to side. They should have been running for shelter by now, but the fresh breeze made them feel completely and utterly reckless. Jake started humming a familiar tune and Josh quickly chimed in: “But the fool on the hill sees the Sun going down

And the eyes in his head see the world spinning 'round…” …and they bursted out laughing like two madmen as the other people around them scrambled in their feet, looking for a place to hide, girls squeaking as the first raindrops hit the ground.

Now they were running too, heading back to the Old Town, passing crowded restaurants and pubs that didn’t appeal to them anyway. People were running around like ants and the storm clouds and the heavy rain quickly covered the streets in a blanket of semi-darkness. Soon they no longer knew where they were headed. They obviously missed a turn back to the main square and not much later found themselves on a much more quiet and nearly abandoned street that probably wasn’t on a tourist map. The storm hit in full force. 

“Not a fucking thunder,” Jake groaned. They were both already absolutely drenched. Trying to find their way back to the hotel in the pouring rain now proved completely futile as they were probably at least a mile away from it anyway, and being no longer in the area of fancy cafés and parfumeries, looking for shelter of any kind wasn’t that easy anymore, either. A small – and already closed –  grocery shop here, a tenement doorway there…finally they spotted a pub that looked promising. Both of them craved a beer anyway. 

The pub was pretty cozy and warm. It was actually more like a café, only situated below the street level, in the cellar of the building. They sat in silence for a while, but Josh was becoming increasingly restless with each minute, chewing his lip and tapping his fingers on the table. “Ok, what’s going on,” Jake finally asked. 

“I’m staying.”

When it was met with a half-confused, half-annoyed stare, he continued. “I mean, just for two more weeks. I’d like to go hiking.”

The confusion was gone. Jake was just annoyed now. “Explain. Where? Why?”

“The Tatras. A guy told me the other day… You were still asleep, so I went out to have some breakfast. You know, Krishna bistro across the street… The place was already crowded by 9 am so these two guys joined me at my table. They just came from their hiking trip down there and showed me some pictures.They called the place ‘miniature Alps’, so you can’t get lost,” he laughed nervously. “It’s a spur-of-the-moment thing, see? But I feel I need it.”  

Jake needed a moment to decompress. This whole trip had been a “spur-of-the-moment thing”...and they did it together. They had also agreed that it was exactly what they needed, so what the fuck is this bullshit? Josh sensed the impending question even before Jake formed the words in his head. 

“You still have some work you need to finish before the start or the next leg…but I don’t. That’s why I didn’t tell you before. You’d just try to convince me to go home with you. I know it’s a long flight…I’m sorry Jake, but I really need to do this. For once in my life.”

“It’s insane Josh. And probably dangerous. And it’s mid-season. You probably won’t even find free lodgings. Then what?”

“I already booked it. The guy gave me a tip. Jake…don’t be mad. You know it’s irrational. We’re adults.”

Jake was angry. But he had to agree that it was irrational. They drowned the irrationality in a few more beers and so it happened that the next day, their ways parted. Jake boarded the plane headed for Gatwick while Josh took the train south. 

Jake

London, 12:15 pm

The weather improved considerably since yesterday, but I still couldn’t shake off the sense of impending doom. At first I thought that it was just the anxiety I often felt when flying, this time multiplied by the fact that I was completely alone thousands of miles away from home and wouldn’t even get there sooner than the next morning, at the very best. Only to be greeted by my housekeeper, if I were lucky. Then I remembered that since there was no one else there, she also only came on Mondays every other week while I was away, to do the most necessary tasks like making sure that the house wouldn’t be buried under a layer of gray dust when I came back. 

However, I landed in London about half an hour ago, downed a beer, had a smoke, but the unpleasant feeling that something bad was about to happen still lingered. I couldn’t put my finger on it, all I knew was that I already missed Josh. 

It was completely irrational. We were adults. I had no right to be angry that he stayed behind, but I was. We spent more time together in the last two weeks than we had in over a year. I mean really together, not just next to each other. It was supposed to be our trip, the purpose of which, among other things, was to shake off the growing feeling of loneliness that comes with this lifestyle. So, me being annoyed with him now was perhaps understandable. But anxious? As I said, I hate flying. Having to fly alone sucks and I was about to board a transcontinental plane later that afternoon. I finally convinced myself that anxiety was also understandable. Nothing to be ashamed of…I guess. Still, something seemed off. 

Agnieszka

Zakopane, 5:40 am

I checked the weather app again. Yes, definitely a perfect day for a hike. The sky was perfectly clear after yesterday’s storm and the air coming through the open window felt crisp and fresh. With a bit of luck, it would stay that way well until early afternoon, although one could never be sure here.  

That’s what I both love and hate about the mountains. Even now, at the age of total control over everything, the mountains are unpredictable, uncontrollable and untamed. Even if we destroyed all the life they harbour, bare and stony valleys would still kill you even more easily if you were bold and arrogant enough to venture too far. Many people come here to conquer the mountain. That’s why we hear the sound of rescue helicopters a few times a week. 

Have you ever smelled wet granite? I don’t mean cobblestones or granite walls, but the rough stone, spewed out to the surface of the earth by the untamed power of this planet, broken and twisted with the forces of nature like plasticine…even though a small piece could easily break your skull. There are places here where jagged rock towers a kilometer over your head. When the clouds hang low, try just standing at the bottom of a glacial cirque, surrounded by numerous peaks. It’s a deeply humbling experience. The place literally breathes. You can hear it sing its ominous song and its cold breath can chill you to the bone. These places are indescribably majestic and beautiful…and also scary when you experience the power firsthand. 

Dominik was never scared. He loved the mountains very much, but he had lost all his humbleness. This place does not forgive such folly. He fell 500 meters and was probably dead even before his body hit the ground. It took them three more hours to find him. By that time he was already half buried under fresh white snow. They couldn’t save him. It happened in one of those gorgeous, scary places and I never saw him again. I burned my white dress that day. 

But that was more than 6 years ago…and I’m still here, taking care of pretty alpinists who come and go, but never stay. Fucking them is convenient. Sometimes, the sensation left by their warm skin pressed against mine lingers longer than I’d deem comfortable and safe, but no one broke my heart again. Mom keeps telling me that my decision to never marry after what happened is breaking hers. She prays for me every Sunday, but she never understood. My father is like a domesticated chamois. A former mountaineer, tamed by a local beauty. Now he spends more time chopping wood and fixing old pipes. He says his knees hurt, but I know he’s happy down here with her. I like men who are just as wild as the wolves running over these hills, but to actually love them is a slow and painful suicide. I barely recovered from the first one. The next would also be the last. 

My dad has been a caretaker of Villa Eulalia for as long as I remember, and even before. I grew up here, surrounded by wild nature and the people who tried to monetize it. Later, my parents bought the building and Eulalia became our family business. It’s much more than that, though. It’s home. Surrounded by new, modern and luxurious hotels owned by townspeople who don’t know this place at all, we’re old residents who offer shelter to those searching for peace here. 

There are generally two kinds of people who come to Zakopane: vacationers and explorers. We don’t offer nice views, jacuzzis and sparkling wine. We will – however – make you breakfast at 5 am.. Whether you want to explore the hiking trails that belong to all or hidden places in your mind that are your own, we are your people. We are the same. 

I couldn’t imagine my life to be any different. I had been climbing these hills since I’d learned to walk. I went to Krakow to get my master’s degree in tourism management, I travelled a bit, made some new friends and even considered some other life options for a while, but I came back eventually. I missed the fresh air and the soapy smell of mountain grass. I needed to be here. 

I was also needed here. With my parents getting older and my younger sister having a family of her own in her cozy city home, I became a maid, a receptionist, a cook, a webmaster and an occasional mountain guide. My parents don’t speak English. Well, not much, anyway. They know a few phrases, so they can greet our visitors and ask them about their day, secretly praying that they wouldn’t really want to answer those questions. Most of them don’t…unless they’re young and handsome. Those talk to me, though. 

We didn’t have any foreign visitors at first, but later they slowly started coming. It was my sister’s job to take care of them at first, with me being away most of the time back then. But later, with three young kids, she couldn’t – and no longer wanted to – keep doing that any longer. So I came back and took over. 

In August, the holiday season is in full swing. I didn’t have a day off since early July and really needed to get out and clear my mind a bit. I can’t stay in town all summer, not when the paradise is literally just a few steps away. This morning seemed like a perfect opportunity. There were no planned checkouts for today, I already managed to get all the rooms for all the new expected guests cleaned and ready the day before and most of them were locals, with one Slovak family arriving later in the afternoon. Dad should be able to take care of that. 

While I was sipping my morning coffee, I checked the mailbox one last time just to be sure everything would be taken care of while I was away, only to discover there were two new last minute reservations. Kováčová…some Slovak lady with two more people who wouldn’t arrive until later in the afternoon, room 8. That one’s also ready. I vacuum-cleaned it two days ago. So, that should be OK. Aaand, the attic room for…some Kiszka. Perfect. I took one last sip, grabbed my backpack and was ready to go. 

Agnieszka wasn’t in a hurry, knowing too well that her muscles would hurt like hell the next day if she didn’t take it easy. She was fit enough to set a much faster pace, but this was not a workout. Not today. In mid august, the former sheep pastures in Hala Gasienicowa were in full bloom and covered in violet. It was also a rather steep route that led there so even though she reached the place at half past nine, she could already feel a familiar burning sensation in her calves. 

This was a perfect place for late breakfast. Yesterday’s wind was gone and once she got past the tree line, the sun was already high up in the sky, warming her skin enough to let her shed all the unnecessary layers of clothing. “Bathing in the breeze” was her favourite pastime. There was no better way to describe it. It was also still early enough to be able to enjoy the calmness of this place, which would be buzzing with life only an hour or so later as more people arrived. 

It was already past noon when she reached the borderline ridge at a beautiful spot called “Lily Saddle” that separated High and Western Tatras – her final destination for the day. Most people aim for peaks, but she always loved mountain saddles and ridge routes. Reaching them wasn’t easy. You always had to overcome steep, rocky and often exposed tracks to get there. By the time you reached the saddle, you were high on endorphins and adrenaline, your whole body overheated from exertion, only to be greeted by icy wind that kept rumbling up there even during the hottest days of the year, sometimes tossing you from side to side like a rag doll. It was like falling in love…

She usually felt at peace here, even when she had to literally wrestle with the element. Not today. Today, she felt agitated. It started further down the road and intensified exponentially as she reached the saddle. She contemplated going further west along the ridge to calm her nerves a bit, when her telephone rang. It took her a while to find it in her bag, but the caller seemed super determined. 

“Dad?”

“Neszka, where are you? An American just arrived… Apparently, he’s got a reservation. I need to house him.”

That must have been a mistake, she went through the reservations. Someone probably arrived at the wrong hotel. There were several of them called Villa Something Something in Zakopane… 

“Daddy, that’s impossible. I double checked. We’re expecting a small German group on Saturday, but otherwise no foreign guests.”

“I’m not making this up. He’s here in front of me and I see him in our reservation system as well.”

“Name?”

“Joshua Kiszka.” 

Fuck… That was probably why she felt so uneasy? Never underestimate your gut. Her subconsciousness knew she fucked up. 

“Ok, get him on the phone.” She took a deep breath, expecting an outpouring of anger, the person on the other side berating her and demanding an explanation. Some people had the weirdest reasons for complaints and refund reasons, and this situation clearly was her fault. 

Instead, the voice belonging to a young man sounded amused. He, too, tried to explain the situation he found himself in, even though there was no need for him to explain anything. With the wind gushing and roaring around and the service being shitty up here, she couldn’t even hear him properly, so – after what she hoped was the most heartfelt apology she could deliver – she tried to make it as brief as possible. 

“Ok, listen, my father – that’s the man you tried to talk to – my dad will show you your room. Just…. make yourself comfortable, there’s a large garden behind the villa and free beverages in the fridge outside your room… You will find it with ease… And I’ll be there in three hours at the very worst. Then I’ll show you around and will tell you everything you need to know.”

“Don’t worry. I haven’t slept much at night so I’ll probably just take a nap. All I need is a bed to lie on…if it’s ready,” he chuckled again.

Fuck. With that, she took a few big gulps of water and started descending. 

It was past four in the afternoon when she got back home, hot and sweating and out of breath, but the shower could wait. She stopped briefly by the kitchen to ask dad how well it went and then headed straight to the attic floor, taking stairs two at a time. She knocked on the door and…nothing. She had to repeat it two more times – at least it gave her the opportunity to catch her breath – before the door finally creaked open. 

“Hey, I’m so sorry I kept you waiti…oh!”

The man who answered the door was unlike anything she had expected. He was approximately the same height as her, slender, not overly muscular but still well toned. She could tell quite easily, because he was in fact naked from the waist up, rubbing his sleepy eyes and smiling at her while still trying to shake off the post nap confusion. 

She didn’t realize that she was staring until he spoke, and took a few steps back inside the room, basically letting her in. “Uh, oh, sorry, it’s a bit hot here under the roof, he chuckled again as he picked up a basic t-shirt from the floor and pulled it over his head. “And you must be the charming lady I spoke to on the phone earlier?” 

He looked like someone straight from DaVinci’s painting…if DaVinci lived in some arty, boho community instead of a 15th century Milan: fine features, rosy cheeks, kind yet mysterious eyes, plump lips and soft curls with trimmed sides and a messy braid that ended between his shoulder blades, decorated with a tiny shell. 

“Uuuh, yeah, yes, that’s me. I tried to get here as soon as possible, but it took longer than I expected and…”

“Please, don’t apologize. I see you went hiking. So cool! It must have been absolutely fabulous up there today. You must certainly give me some tips. Where to go, what to see... I heard how beautiful it is here. Saw some pictures too. But I’ve never been here, so I absolutely don’t know what to expect. I will need to buy some clothes and other essentials as well, this was a last minute decision. I helped myself to a beverage from that fridge, by the way. I hope it’s ok. I had peach iced tea…,” he kept on rambling as he tried to clean up the room that already looked lived-in even though he had been here for only a few hours. 

She watched him, completely bewildered. But she already liked him. He was cute and wild and kind of sexy. Strange, but with a pretty face. Two weeks. He’s alone…yeah, and you’re sweaty, red faced and you stink, you idiot!

“…me around?” 

She realized he was still talking, when put her back to earth. “What?” That chuckle again…

“You told me you’d show me around. I got my key, I know where the drinks are, I saw the garden, it’s fanTAStic, by the way…so, what else do I need to know?” he asked cheekily. 

That put her back into her professional mode. She explained that she wouldn’t clean the room more that once a week unless he would specifically ask her to do so, privacy being held in high regard here…; she showed him where to find extra toilet paper and fresh towels, where to throw the dirty ones; she showed him the kitchen he had to share with several other rooms, told him about free tea and coffee and that he shouldn’t bother with washing the dishes, he should just leave them in the sink and she would take care of it. She also told him where to buy everything he needed and she had to bite her lip a few times when he absentmindedly touched her arm. 

Later in the early evening, Agnieszka still couldn't shake off that unfamiliar restlessness she felt back up on the ridge. It lay heavy on her chest, compressing her lungs. She tried to read, but it was no use. Reading was a distraction fit for dark and rainy evenings, but the cloudless sky didn’t want the night to take over just yet. Even here, among steep hills where the sun sets early, the skies were still ultramarine blue and… vast. 

The warm light on her bedside table wasn’t enough to disperse the magic of the blue hour. Instead of trying to reread the same paragraph for the third time, she put the book down and opened the window to let the cool and fragrant air in. 

As soon as the scent of pines and freshly mown grass hit her nostrils, she also heard a soft hum coming from below. Looking down, she saw him sitting on a wooden garden table, with his feet on the bench. He had his back to her, sipping beer, his fingers rapping on the withered wood. He was also the source of that slow melody. 

It reminded her of Dominik. He used to sit by the fireside, farther back in the garden. His guitar was often out of tune and people made fun of him, but he always just smiled and continued to play. It often baffled her that he didn’t mind, because it sounded awful, and he must have heard it. The man could sing! 

Apparently, so could Joshua, but it was something completely different. Dominik’s voice was low and thick, and when he hummed her favourite songs, such as Sad Eyes, it often made her drowsy. Joshua sounded like the girls singing old local folk songs about dying from a broken heart. She had never heard anything like that. He sang silently, as he obviously did not want to disturb the calmness of dusk, as well as other guests behind their own open windows. Yet it made her heart flutter in her throat. 

She watched, entranced, how his breath animated the muscles of his lean back, covered only in sheer white cotton in spite of the air getting increasingly chillier with every passing minute. 

Agnieszka tried to lean out the window a bit more, which made the shutter crash against the wall, causing him to look her way. She panicked and ducked under the sill. Realizing how childish it must have appeared, she slowly straightened and saw him still looking in her direction, smiling. He gestured to the second can of beer standing on the table next to him and silently motioned her to join him. 

She took a deep breath and nodded. She grabbed her cardigan, closed the window and went out to join him, oblivious to the fact that the way down the stairs and out the back entrance which led straight to the garden was in reality a steep, rocky road to ruin. 

@writingcold @its-interesting-van-kleep @takenbythemadness @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @fleet-of-fiction @edgingthedarkness @thewritingbeforesunrise @myownparadise96 @lvnterninthenight

...and because you reblogged the teaser, this might interest you, too: @klarxtr @jakesleftankle @itsafullmoon @woyayaofdreams @pasionatematty @zoelle16 @tripthelightfantastix This is just for now. Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist.

#greta van fleet #gvf #josh kiszka #josh gvf #jake kiszka #jake gvf #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fanfic #gvf fanfiction #gvf fanfic #Spotify

[mrs-dr-reid]

My Personal Spencer Reid Headcanons Part 2/? (Dad!Spence Edition)

(This one’s for you, Ozzie)

He gets Derek to help him build a little bookshelf that can be completely dedicated to children's books

Reads every book on early childhood development he can get his hands on because he's a worry wart

GIRL! DAD! Although for me, I imagine he has a daughter first, then a son a few years later (mostly because I'm a first-born daughter and my brother is four years younger than me)

He does the thing where whenever his baby babbles or makes any type of noise, he responds with something like "Oh, really?" or "That's very interesting, tell me more" to help them build up their conversation skills

Fully commits to the bit during play time. Whether he's pretending to slay an imaginary dragon or falling over when hit with pretend magic, he'll do the absolute most to make his kids laugh

Would probably show up to work with his baby strapped to his chest in a baby carrier if it wasn't against FBI protocol to have a literal child in the same room as crime scene photos and multiple firearms

He'll carry his baby around and point out seemingly mundane things, but explain it to them in a way that makes it seem like the most interesting thing in the world. Especially with people, like he'll say, "See that pretty lady right there? That's your mommy, and she's the most wonderful person in the whole wide world."

He falls asleep with his kid on his chest all the time, especially after a rough case involving kids and he just needs to know that they're there and they're okay

Vehemently hates mindless children's programming, so he's definitely a nature documentary dad. Although he will allow Bluey, because he likes that it makes harder subjects easier for kids to digest while still being entertaining and fun

He gets his kids into puzzles as soon as their hand eye coordination develops, so whenever he's not on a case, he can usually be found at the kitchen table poring over a puzzle with his mini-me

Always hams it up with the voices when reading or telling his kids a bedtime story to make them laugh

He does magic tricks for his kids when they're babies just to see their eyes triple in size because their little baby brains don't have enough power to process what just happened

He cries whenever his kids copy what he does because it's too cute, whether it be mismatching their socks to match him, or calling you whatever sappy nickname he has for you like it's your name "because that's what Daddy calls you, and Daddy's always right"

Inhumanly fast at changing diapers. You once timed him, and he changed the baby's diaper and outfit in less than five minutes

He loves doing arts and crafts with his littles, and he loves it when they make something for him at school. Your fridge is positively covered in artwork, and whenever he swaps one drawing for another, he puts the old one in a memento box because he'll be damned if he throws away something his kid makes for him

He takes his kids to the park as often as he can to teach them how to play chess once they get old enough

Once you guys move to the suburbs away from all the light pollution, his favorite thing to do is to take his kids into the backyard, set up a little nest of blankets and pillows, and stargaze with them to teach them about all the constellations and planets

Sometimes he goes through little anxiety spats where he worries he's not cut out to be a dad, but the second his little one bursts through the door and yells, "DADDY, GUESS WHAT HAPPENED AT SCHOOL TODAY!!!!", every fear or doubt about his abilities melts away, and he jumps right back into World's Best Dad Mode™

#logan writes #logan has headcanons #dad!spencer reid

[fabdante]

he is never getting back that sweater, i am so sorry miles

transcript and brief descriptions under the cut!

Page 1: Gwen pulls out a Nirvana sweater that belongs to Miles and shows it to him. He tries to play it cool.

Gwen: Oh! I love this album! I didn't know you knew it.

Miles, thoughts: Literally never listened to the album. Genuinely did not know it was an album. Just thought it looked cool (also wanted to impress Gwen). Nirvana made more then two albums? (only knows Nevermind and In Utero, has not listened to them) Did not expect her to comment.

M: Yeah I totally love that album. It's one of my faves.

Page 2: Gwen infodumps, Miles pretends he's listened to this album, Gwen...does not believe him.

G (leans in towards Miles): I LOVE this album!

Gwens infodump: I love Aneurysm but Big Long Now is up there - No one talks about Incesticide - It's such a - The album arts so cool to- Did you know Kurt painted the cover? - There's so many different drummers on it to it's so interesting how they - Like he did the art to it's crazy - Maybe Big Long Now is my favorite - I love how raw it is - Which song is your favorite? - It's so cool-

G: So...what do you think of Mexican Seafood?

Miles, thoughts: Assumes that's a song (correct)

M: It's...um. It's a really beautiful piece.

M: Like, lyrically. Really beautiful.

G: ...

G: Mind if I play it then?

Sponge Bob Time Card That Reads 'One listen to Mexican Seafood later'

Page 3: Miles copes with listening to this song. Gwen brings the sweater back into this.

Miles, thoughts: Regret. Regret. Regret. Regret.

G: So, you like it?

M: No. I did not like it.

G: (snort)

G: Ok, so, since you haven't listened to Incesticide...can I have this?

M: Hey! No! I bought that!

Page 4: A sweater bargain is made

M: You don't know. I might like the rest of the album

Gwen gives Miles big old puppy dog eyes.

M: Ok, you can borrow it.

M: Just...give it back. Sometime.

G (flops onto Mile's shoulder): Thanks, Miles.

M: No problem.

#gwiles #ghostflower #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #spiderman #spiderman across the spiderverse #atsv #gwen stacy #miles morales #spiderverse fan art #atsv fan art #atsv fanart #spiderverse fanart #atsv gwen #before anyone says anything like everything gwen says is stuff i have seen people say about this album #i am sometimes people but not all the time #anyway everyone talk more about gwens concept art canon love of nirvana #my art

[todayisafridaynight]

#rgg #ryu ga gotoku #ryu ga gotoku 7 #yakuza series #yakuza like a dragon #yakuza 7 #masato arakawa #ryo aoki #snap sketches #AH jumpscare #i aint drawn aoki or masato (funny as hell i have to distinguish) in forever BYYYYYEE i miss him. i want him to be even more dead #my favorite genre of masato art is aoki killnig him so its my turn to do that. kinda. in spirit #Understandably its always aoki as the aggressor but i wanted to ask myself Can I Flip It #evidently aoki wasnt happy even with all of his power and all.. it makes me wonder how much his self hatred exists in aoki #A LOT EVIDENTLY LMAOOO but im having issues trying to articulate what i mean #aoki is very much a persona Fake Through And Through so sometimes i wonder if aoki ever gets tired of having to act all the time #he's on edge all the time and constantly trying to figure out how to use people instead of just. chilling LMAO GROW UP #he refuses to let himself be genuine and vulnerable with others yet at the same time he wants the love that comes with that #sure his new persona gives him the life he wanted but its gotta be wild to think 'people only like me for what i can do for them' #its hard to accurately describe what i was thinking while drawing these i just know i like rattling masato in a can #there's just so many layers to him it makes my brain itch SOOOO bad #having the love and sincerity he said he always wanted but not being able to see it because of his own self hatred... wild... #relatable... im gonna throw up... he still sucks tho lol...... #ok bye im gonna contemplate drawing something moody cause i guess it's a moody sunday idk sue me

[lunarharp]

thingies

#witch hat tag #orufrey #nother small post (it's not small..) meek post. mild post #sensei QRTed the last one with a sweet message and made my week <3 #drawn bc she randomly announced that originally qif & eas were going to be more openly hostile with each other #but she decided after feedback that qifrey would. Restrain himself now he has children in his life. #like pikachu with togepi in pikachu's vacation. She didn't say that part #just love that since i always say i see them as having this kind of autistic warfare expressed in ways other than actual fighting #since their youths. but i guess we don't know how much they had to interact as kids #i just know they're both opposite ends of Autistic Kids: one do-gooder kid who gets REALLY irked when others dont follow The Rules #and the non-verbal autistic kid who IS one push away from actually biting people #Sometimes autistic people shouldnt be friends. #anyway why did she randomly state this now of all times. Are they interacting in the next chapter. But why. #the next chapter scares me. a teaser piece of art she posted is like.....What is actually going to happen here. #What is going to happen . #anyway hope all fans of my silly drawings are doing well out there