#pursuit planes

[nocternalrandomness]

Boeing P-12E Pursuit Aircraft at the National Museum of the United States Air Force, Dayton, Ohio

#USAF Museum #Vintage aviation #Boeing #P-12 #Pursuit aircraft #Biplane #Fighter #Airplane #Vintage plane

[crownedstoat]

Boeing P-26

#Boeing #P-26 #Peashooter #Fighter #Pursuit Plane #1930's

[luciddownloading]

Astrology Observations: Taurus Edition 🐂

🌷 Taurus Suns, Taurus Moons and Taurus Risings all specialize in the realm of the senses, the physical and aesthetic plane, but they do it differently from one another

Taurus Sun is the gardener. It's a pursuit that requires patience, persistence, and that unfolds slowly. These people know how to plant a metaphorical seed, water it, and allow it to grow. They are usually excellent manifestors, even though a) they may not actually see it as manifestation, just a steadfast desire to create the life they want and b) their manifestations may take especially long to materialize. But, like a gardener, it is only a matter of time until they have the most luscious plants and beautiful flowers. Taurus Suns are destined for material abundance. It's their birthright! (And if this is your Sun sign, you should actually get into growing plants or flowers. It would be really great for you!)

Taurus Moon is the chef. They can take a lot of ingredients and combine them to make something delicious and comforting. People with this Moon sign are often excellent in the kitchen. If not, they're huge foodies and the way to their heart is through their stomach. They also seem to have an instinct for what needs to be added into a situation. It's like their special secret ingredient but others will come to recognize it with time. It may be their humor, their stable energy, their warmth, or their level-headed ways. But, it's some sort of trait they have that nourishes and comforts others. Taurus Moon people are typically nurturing or supportive but not in such an emotional way. When they ask "what do you need?", they mean physical things. It could be a hug, advice, their quality time or money (many of them are pretty financially generous)

Taurus Rising is the artist. They see beauty all around them and want to replicate that into some form. Many of them will actually be very artistic. They could have a lovely singing voice. But, in many cases, their form of art will be more physical than emotionally expressive, as in drawings, paintings, photography, possibly even sculpture or pottery. Visual art. They themselves are walking visual art. Much like their sister placement, Libra Rising, they are either very physically attractive or they have a really lovely aura that makes them very attractive, even if they're not conventionally good-looking. They will also put time and effort into their appearance but it's low key. Like a masterpiece in a museum, they draw you in quietly, slowly yet undeniably.

🌷 Venus in Taurus people tend to be very vain and enamored with themselves, especially women or people with a lot of feminine energy. But, they also need to make sure they are very secure in themselves, too. If not, they could become very jealous or territorial. Whatever they believe is "theirs", whether it's attention or a partner or career status, when they're being low-vibrational, they will feel very easily threatened or overly possessive. However, when they are secure in themselves, they possess amazing self-love and can really pour into other people unselfishly.

🌷 Taurus people, especially those with their Sun or Moon or Rising in this sign, do have terrible tempers. They tend to have a long fuse and they are calm or chill most of the time. But, when they are properly provoked, they are capable of going off in a way that brings down the house. It's like a storm, like they are channeling Mother Nature herself, and they can go dark or even get violent. But, they are aware of this and try to restrain this part of themselves

🌷 Mars in Taurus men are traditionally masculine in relationships. They are usually not "macho" in an obnoxious way. But, they have a very solid, protective, reliable energy with a mate. They have provider energy, especially since they really prioritize their financial security. Yet, because of this, they tend to prefer a mate who will play a more conventionally feminine role. No matter their sexual orientation, they are more drawn to a partner who will either be a "housewife" type or a very doting spouse

🌷 Taurus Risings very often get "thick" as they get older. It's not looked at as weight gain in a negative way because they seem to put on weight in all the right ways/places. So, people may prefer them when they are a little meatier (and they may also like themselves better this way). But, they are just as beautiful in their "skinny era"

🌷 Mercury in Taurus individuals just like simple conversation. They really find pleasure in talking, even if they're not necessarily talkative or talking about much of importance. So, they can make what would normally be a boring subject or tedious social setting really enjoyable. They are super-easy to talk to and love to laugh

🌷 There is just something SO elegant about famous actors with their Sun in Taurus: Cate Blanchett, Daniel Day Lewis, Michelle Pfeiffer, George Clooney, to name a few. They just come off as incredibly classy and respectable, like they're of a distinguished breed, which shows the innate elegance that Taurus Suns are capable of.

🌷 People with Taurus placements can simultaneously be very connected to their intuitive/psychic abilities but very unaware of them. Taurus is the opposite sign of Scorpio, an overwhelmingly psychic energy. Taurus can have super-heightened senses and, therefore, easily develop clairaudience, clairvoyance, claircognizance or clairsentience. After all, those abilities are just ways of harnessing psychic energy through the senses. But, because Taurus is more focused on what is tangible or provable, they may be oblivious to their psychic abilities or highly uneasy with them (unless they have a strong Water influence)

🌷 Taurus Moons can potentially be just as codependent with their mother figure as Cancer Moons can be, especially if they have harsh aspects to their Moon. In toxic cases, the mother or child may be too financially reliant on the other. Or, less dramatically, it can just be a case of feeling like your stability or peace depends on your mother's input. When Taurus Moons remember that their sense of security must come from within, the relationship will become healthier

/////////

Thanks for stopping by! You can check out my other posts and readings here:

MASTER LIST

#astrology #astrology observations #astro notes #astro observations #taurus #taurus placements #taurus stellium #taurus sun #sun in taurus #taurus energy #taurus moon #moon in taurus #taurus rising #taurus ascendant #mercury in taurus #venus in taurus #mars in taurus

[butterflyscribbles]

I’ve been thinking so much lately about April’s ninpo powers because I love the idea that as part of the family, she has her own unique abilities just like the turtles do and they didn’t get the time to explore it in the series enough so have some headcanons that I’ve incorporated into my weird lil good future AU:

The biggest key in April’s ninpo is communication and projection. She’s the only one that can cross over to the astral plane and speak with the Hamato ancestors without outside help. However, she can help anyone else in the family cross over at the same time, but it takes a lot of focus and energy to maintain the link of two people so sometimes after long sessions, she’s exhausted.

Leo hates the feeling of his soul leaving his body so he only reaches out to his ancestors when he’s at the end of his rope as leader or feels lonely. He makes the most of every visit as a result. He loves his family to the ends of the earth and beyond, wishing he could bring himself to visit more…but the whole process makes him nervous (and nauseous). Sending Leo to the plane also wipes April out the most because his mystic energy is so weak in comparison to his brothers so she has to do the “heavy lifting” so to speak, but she doesn’t mind it one bit.

Raph takes comfort in reaching the astral plane. He’s been there before (during the season 2 finale) and seeking advice from his ancestors is something he loves and takes pride in. The process it takes to reach the astral plane is reminiscent of his own projection powers so it’s like second nature. It’s also a huge bonding experience for him and April. He even utilizes the time to practice speaking Japanese to his ancestors since he starts learning after the events of s2.

Don’s pursuit of strengthening his mystic powers is often neglected in favor of pursuing his tech and scientific discoveries. He’s an extremely powerful mystic that doesn’t believe he is because of his bias against magic. Makes it hard when your trying to reach out to your ancestors you definitely know are there…he’s seen them….and can almost feel them….he just can’t fully will his mystic energy to reach out that far beyond his control and without an exact “target”, no matter how many times April helps try to drive it down the right path, so the energy just spirals in all directions and never reaches far enough. He’s never made it to the astral plane…yet.

Mikey is a low-key show off. His mystic abilities are off the charts and he can very nearly reach the astral plane by himself on sheer energy alone. However, April is the one that has to provide the right pathway for him to follow to get there since he’s a little all over the place, especially in the beginning of him reigning in his powers. When Mikey is around, he lifts her up and their energy intertwines as they cross the barrier into the astral plane with ease. April barely has to lift a finger to get there too so she’s not as exhausted after guiding Mikey there.

#rise april #rise leo #rise raph #rise donnie #rise mikey #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #sotau #some other time au #more to come I’ve just gotta draw it my brain is so full of turtles again lately aughghgggghh

[galedekarios]

reading more about waterdeep and waterdhavians explains so much about gale:

class & station

Instead of the fragmenting and distinct splits based on income or birth, Waterdeep has nullified such differences almost entirely. "Social level" and "class" are far less important in Waterdeep than in other cities of the Realms (and elsewhere) any prejudices against folk due to race, creed, or coin are brought in by visitors from outside the walls, and are not tolerated to a large extent. The crossroads nature of the city and the up-and-down fortunes of those who make their living in trade keeps the inhabitants of the city tolerant of a wide variety of peoples, with widely varying customs, religions, and incomes. [...] In Waterdeep, low birth or station is not a recipe for rudeness from one's betters, beyond what one's actions would earn from one's equals in any case—if you are ridiculed in Waterdeep, you brought such treatment upon yourself!

character & temperament

"Live and let live" best describes most Waterdhavians' attitudes; everyone is far too busy in the pursuit of wealth and happiness. [...] The cosmopolitan nature of the City of Splendors makes its natives very tolerant. They tend to be talkative, friendly, easygoing, and outspoken, but do not expect others to be. [...] Natives of the City of Splendors are notoriously slow to take offense. A Waterdhavian will plainly state his or her feelings as a warning before showing anger. One is more apt to hear "I don't find that amusing, friend," said pleasantly to a stranger before an angry voice is raised. Some visitors misinterpret such behavior as cowardice or ignorance ("he was too stupid to know I insulted him!"); if they act on such misjudgments, however, surprise and regret are the usual results. 

other races

Most Waterdhavians are slow to take fright unless facing magic or monsters. Beings of almost all races may be seen in the city, too. A typical Waterdhavian would react with hostility and fear only to a drow, an illithid, nonhuman natives of the Lower Planes, and, of course, "monsters" such as beholders and dragons; with all others, it's generally "business as usual." [...]

smalltalk

Waterdhavians do not discuss the weather, unless in a profession governed by it like farmers or sailors. Small talk and idle chatter normally centers on matters of commerce, and secondarily on warfare elsewhere in the Realms. Waterdhavians take a sporting interest in such happenings as the constant minor strife in the South, the recurring unrest and bloodshed in Tethyr, and traditional and long standing shipping discord between Ruathym and Luskan. [...]

#these are all from waterdeep: dragon heist #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #ch: gale dekarios #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3

[stairain]

Vegas Redemption.

You spot Spencer at a hotel lounge alone, you see has a ring on his finger, but that doesn't stop you.

Warnings: Dom + Rough Spencer, sort of switch reader, brat reader, light drinking, cheating, his wife is cheating on him too so don't worry, cunnilingus, hair pulling, mentions of Spencer getting reader pregnant. 

WC: 7K

A “business trip” is what you had told your friends, when you packed your bags for the weekend and all too eagerly got on a plane to Vegas. After all, being coined the “city of sin” and going just for business seemed foolish. 

Adorned in elegance and dripping in determination, you made your way from your hotel room to the bottom floor with a fiery look of pursuit in your sultry eyes. 

You're walking through the cozy and sultry atmosphere of the hotel lounge, the bar immediately catching your eye. It wasn't because of the wide range of drinks they had on display, nor was it the colorful light fixtures they had installed above said drinks. It was because a beautiful stranger was sitting alone at the bar, keeping to himself as he sipped on his drink. 

You waltz over to him, subtly going to sit a few seats away from him, you couldn't pounce just yet.

He sits at the bar, drinking quietly. The only sign that he's noticed your presence is a slight turn of his head to the side, his eyes fixed on his glass in front of him. He keeps his back straight and his hands on the counter. When you sit close to him, his eyes look up at you and he smiles briefly before taking another sip of his drink. His expression returns to complete indifference when his eyes return to his glass, and he takes another slow, deliberate sip. The drink is probably an expensive scotch.

As he raises the glass to meet his lips, you squint and look at his finger. A ring. The man was married.

But that did nothing to deter you, in fact, it only made you want him more. You would make him yours, he wouldn't belong to whatever woman sported the other ring, not after tonight.

After you order a drink of your own, you slowly get up from your seat, and migrate to the one directly next to him. A playful smile is plastered on your face.

You can see him look at you briefly as you move closer, and the corner of his mouth lifts very slightly - the barest hint of a smile - before he returns his attention to his drink.  He doesn't say anything, but you notice that he sets the glass down more gently than he needed to, in a way that shows he doesn't mind having you close.

You tilt your head to the side a bit as he doesn't immediately look at you, but still flashes the tiniest smile. "What brings you here? Business trip, vacation.. an escape, maybe?" 

Your tone is teasing, insinuating that he was here to get away from whatever wife he has at home, whatever wife he would inevitably be taken away from anyways.

He looks up at you when you speak, the faintest smile on his face, and he runs his thumb along the edge of his glass in the most casual way, as though he's doing it purely out of idle habit.  His eyes scan you for a moment, his gaze stopping over your face and body for just a moment too long before returning to the glass. He seems completely relaxed. His tone is calm and almost lazy when he speaks, and he almost seems amused by you.

"An escape."

Bingo. That was the exact answer you were hoping for. You lean forward a bit and choose your next words carefully. 

"From what.. or who..? If you don't mind me asking, Sir."

The only response you get at first is a faint quirk of his lips, followed by a slow sip of the scotch in his glass. When he's finished, he sets the glass down and looks at you with a mild amusement in his eyes. 

“What's it worth to you, darling?" His voice is low and soft with a hint of a sarcasm, his hazel eyes studying you calmly, with just the slightest flare of interest lurking just beneath the surface of that studied calm.

The bartender hands you your own glass, and you raise it to your own lips, licking over them in a teasing manner before taking a small sip. 

"Everything, depending on your answer."

He lets out a low chuckle after you speak, and you can see a trace of genuine amusement in his eyes now.  His eyebrows raise in a playful way, as though he's impressed, but his tone remains calm when he speaks. 

"Is that so? Very well then."

He turns in the barstool to face you, leaning in casually and running his right palm over the back of his neck for just a moment before he stops. 

"My wife is cheating on me."

You can't help the wicked smirk that creeps on your features at hearing that. Your eyes flash from his ring, back up to his mysterious eyes. Taking another sip from your drink, your other hand reaches out to touch the ring on his finger. You don't say anything.

His smile only grows with your smirk, and you can see the playfulness in his gaze deepen slightly as your hand reaches out and touches his ring. His dark eyes never leave you, and you can see that playfulness in the faint quirk at the corner of his mouth and the twinkle in his eye, as though you both know that he's not planning on staying married for much longer.

"And you want a chance to replace her, don't you?"

His tone is neutral, but there is an undercurrent of amusement in his voice. Something in his expression dares you to say it aloud.

Quickly looking up at him and stopping your movements, your smile only grows. Your touch retracts from him, and you lean back into your own seat. 

"What are my odds, sir?" You say with a cocky tone, lifting your glass to your mouth.

He laughs, as though he appreciates your boldness. You can see the amusement in his eyes grow, and it's clear that your confidence is having a definite effect on him.  His voice is tempting when he responds, and the corner of his mouth tilts up in a teasing smile. 

"Very high, as long as you play your cards right, sweetheart."

"If you're the one dealing the cards, it seems I've already won.." 

The tone in your voice has significantly lowered, but the confidence and cockiness never left, if anything, it only grew. This man would be yours, and by the end of the night, you'd hope to pawn that ring of his and buy him a one way ticket to your place.

He smiles at you as he takes another sip of his drink, holding his position for a moment before he leans a little closer and speaks in a soft tone.

"Now darling, it wouldn't be any fun if I just gave the prize away so easily, would it? Do you know how to play your part, or do you need me to help teach you?" His voice is quiet with a hint of an invitation in it, his smile playful and teasing as his eyes scan you from top to bottom.

"Tell me what to do, and I'm yours." Your chin lowers as you stare at him right in his own piercing eyes, as if trying to challenge him.

His tone is low, and you can hear the amusement still in it when he speaks.  He meets your gaze, his eyes glassy with desire, and he pauses for a moment before the corner of his mouth curls up into a wicked smile. He leans even slightly closer as he speaks, and his voice is a purr.

"Make me want you, darling.”

"Already done, Sir." You arrogantly lean back in your seat and take a sip of your drink, looking unamused.

He laughs at the cockiness in your voice, his smile growing. In the corner of your eye you notice a couple of other people have turned to stare at both of you, and you can tell at least one of them is intrigued by the scene unfolding between you two. Your confidence seems to be having that effect on people.

"So you've already caught my attention, then? That's half the battle. Your next move will have to be enough to make me want to keep you."

"Tell me the part you want me to play then, sir. I don't mind a challenge."

He lets out the ghost of a chuckle.

"Tell you what..." He reaches into his suit coat and pulls out a business card, leaning forward as he sets it on the bar between you. His expression is relaxed, his eyes studying you calmly, and his tone is serious as he speaks.

"How about I invite you to my hotel room? That way I can show you exactly how badly I want you."

You swallow at his words, and pick up the card, trading it for the glass in your hand. 

Dr. Spencer Reid. 

You look back up to him and nod.

"Lead the way, Doctor.”

He smiles at you, his gaze roaming over your face and body again before he nods towards the door. "My room is on the top floor." He stands up from the bar, waiting just long enough for you to get up as well before he begins to walk towards the door and makes his way to the elevator, his movements deliberate and confident. 

"I expected no less from a man like you, Sir." You follow behind him like a dog, trying to keep up.

"Then I expect no less from a girl like you." His shoots back and he reaches out as you follow him towards the elevator to give you a wink. His eyes dart up and down you in that subtle way he had, and his eyes linger on your legs for even just a moment too long before he pulls the hotel room key out of his suit pocket and swipes it through the elevator, waiting for the doors to open before he steps inside, holding the door open as he turns to look at you expectantly.

You walk into the elevator silently, and stare up at him longingly as he walks in and presses the top floor, then stands right next to you. The stretch of his arm, his tall back, it was already driving you mad. There's desire running all throughout your body, and you don't know if you could wait the entire ride up to keep your hands off of him. He no doubt would be able to feel the utter desperation radiating off of you. 

His eyes never leave you as he presses the button for the top floor, and you can tell that he enjoys the effect he has on you. You can see that it only adds to his allure for you, and the closer you get as the elevator rises, the harder it would be for him to resist if you were to start kissing him right now.

And so he doesn't resist. It's not a second longer until his hands are cradling your head, and your hands are grabbing at his wrists as he pulls you in a fiery, passionate kiss, right in the middle of the elevator. You're taken aback, but that doesn't stop you from trying to kiss him back with the same possessive passion he's pouring into you.

He leans against the elevator wall and pulls you in close with a passion that takes you off guard, the sudden heat of his kiss and the feeling of his hands in your hair taking you by surprise and sending electric shocks through your body. The elevator dings to alert you that you've arrived at his floor, and it takes a moment more before he pulls away from you. His gaze is intense as he looks at you, a low moan rumbling in his throat as he looks at you hungrily.

He licks over his lips once, and swallows. 

"You taste like heaven."

It takes you a few seconds to catch your breath and compose yourself after the dizzying kiss, and you breathlessly laugh.

"Just you wait, sir.."

He chuckles, and you can see that the kiss has left him visibly flustered as well.  He takes your hand and leads you out of the elevator and to his room.  He unlocks it with his key card, but before he opens the door he turns to look at you with a sly smile and raises an eyebrow.

"And just what do you mean by that, darling?"

"It wouldn't be any fun if I just gave the prize away so easily, would it, Sir?" You repeat his previous words back to him, and shoot him a wink. He lets out another low chuckle. 

"Well played, dear." He opens the door and steps back to let you go first, and he closes it behind you once you've entered. 

You walk in, not before flashing him a playful smirk. As you step in the room, you're immediately met with such a luxurious atmosphere, it almost makes your jaw drop.

The room is luxurious, with plush carpeting and elegant furniture.  He gestures to a comfortable-looking chair across from a small coffee table, and as he's letting you take in the room he leans against the wall and crosses one long leg over the other. 

"Make yourself comfortable, darling, I'll mix you a drink." His tone is still teasing as he looks at you, and he gives you a quick wink as he turns to the built-in bar to grab the decanter of scotch and two thick glasses.

You nod and try not to let your awe take over your entire mind, you were here for a reason. As you sit down, you turn your body to watch him, and you lick your lips at the sight of him in that suit of his, fixing a drink for the both of you.

Spencer smiles when he sees that you're watching, his tone teasing as he speaks.

"Enjoying the view, are you?" He turns back to the decanter as he pours the whiskey into the two glasses, and he looks at you over his shoulder with a look in his eye that suggests you might enjoy him even more once he takes off the suit jacket and tie.

“Too much, Sir." You bite your lip.

“I can fix that, if you’d like…” He turns around completely to face you. He’s holding the two glasses in his hands now, and he flashes you a knowing look before leaning forward and setting them on the coffee table.

He starts to unbutton his suit jacket, but he doesn’t move to take it off yet. His attention is focused on you, as though he’s waiting for a response before he proceeds.

Your eyes snap to his skillful fingers as they push off the buttons of his suit, and you find yourself looking at him with pleading eyes as you give him a gentle nod.

He smiles at you, his eyes meeting yours for just a moment before he finishes with the buttons so the suit jacket comes off cleanly and easily. He drapes the jacket over the arm of the other chair, and he flashes you another small, taunting smile before he starts to undo the buttons of his dress shirt.

“Would you like me to take this off as well, or save it for later?” His tone is teasing as he speaks, and you can tell that he’s enjoying this exchange as much as you are.

"Keep it on, sir." You softly command before leaning over and picking up the glass from the table. Your eyes travel up and down his body as you take a sip.

He smiles when you command him, and you can tell he likes the control.  He reaches out to grab the other glass, still watching you with soft eyes. His voice is content when he speaks. 

"Well then, darling..." He leans forward just enough to place a kiss on the back of your hand, and he looks at you with an expectant smile, his tone tempting as he speaks. "What would you like to do, now that we're alone?"

You subconsciously rub your thighs together, and lightly moan the slight friction it provides to your aching clit. You sigh and smile up at him. "What happened to a challenge, sir? Seems like you're giving it up quite easily for me.."

"We both know you're the prize.  So.." He gives you another one of his playful winks, taking a sip of his scotch as the two of you look each other over with a faint smile. His eyes flash down to your legs and he tilts his head to the side, looking over your body again with fervent interest as his expression falls into a dark smirk.

"I think the challenge will be seeing who gives in first."

You set your glass down on the table at his words, then suddenly you're grabbing at his tie and pulling him closer to you, making him stumble a bit. 

"Let's see how long you last then, Doctor."

He lets out a soft laugh as you pull him closer to you and he reaches up to place his hands on your hips. His eyes take you in again, and the smirk on his face only grows with every glance.  In this moment he's focused entirely on you, and the desire he has for you is palpable, filling the room and growing with each lingering look he gives you.

"Let's see how long you last, darling."

A smirk is all the warning he receives before you're capturing him in a passionate kiss. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of his lips on yours again, and you feel his hands reach out to cradle your face.

He leans into the kiss, his hands holding you close to him and his grip slowly tightening throughout the kiss.  The passion in his eyes matches your passion, and the feeling of his tongue against yours is intoxicating. For the moment, there is nothing else in the world that matters except the two of you, and as he pulls you closer he lets out a soft moan against your mouth that sends a shiver down your spine in the best way possible.

You feel the cold metal of his ring pressing into your skin, and your expression quickly turns into a scowl at the feeling. It was mocking you, he was yours now. Without pulling away from the kiss, you use one hand and grab his, and pull the band off of the digit, before throwing it off.

He lets out a soft laugh as you take off the ring and throw it, his kiss never falters and he wraps his arms around you as he continues to hold you close.

"Oh, sweetheart..." His tone is playful, and you can see the smile in his eyes grows even more as he holds you close. His lips are still close to yours as he speaks in a low voice, and you can feel the rumble in his tone. 

"You're mine now, sir. Forget her." You yank on his tie once more and pull him back in for another intense kiss.

He lets out another soft laugh as you pull him back in for another kiss, one of his hands sliding down to smooth over your ass as the other gently cups your face. He's still very clearly enjoying this, and as he lets out a small groan against your mouth he pulls away just long enough to whisper his next words in your ear while his hands slowly tighten their hold on you.

"What is it that makes you want me so badly, darling?"

Your hands move to the back of his neck as his lips start skimming along your skin, pressing gentle kisses against your neck, and licking over your collarbone. Your eyes flutter shut as you respond. 

"Saw you sitting alone.. Thought you were so handsome.." Your mouth drops open in a moan when he nips at the flesh of your throat. "Then, saw the ring... Just made me want you so much more, just knew I could treat you so much better than she does."

He lets out a soft laugh, and you can feel his lips grazing your neck. The feeling is like a live wire, sending shivers down your spine in the best way possible. You moan again, and the sound is enough to send a thrill throughout his entire body. 

"Is that so?" As his lips brush your skin you can feel the heat in his breath, and he kisses you again, pulling you even closer now. "Is that all it took for you to be ready to take me home?"

"Worked.. didn't it?" You cockily mutter out, your words accompanied by a moan.

"Oh it definitely worked, darling..." He lets out a soft chuckle, his eyes watching yours flirtatiously, and he makes no attempt to hide the desire he has for you. "So tell me, sweetheart,  what is it I get out of this arrangement?"

As he speaks, he moves both of you so he's sitting on the couch, leaning back against the cushion as you're planted in his lap. 

"You leave your wife.. come back home with me, and I'll be yours forever..." You reach down to play with the buttons of his dress shirt, slowly pushing them out of their loops.

His eyes watch you as you play with his buttons, and a smug smile spreads across his face. 

"You drive a hard bargain, darling..." He laughs once more, taking in the sight of you as the buttons come undone.  He has no intention of stopping you as he speaks. "And what will happen if I say no?" 

You give him a small faux pout at his words, you know he's not serious, he's already too deep in this that he can't possibly be serious.

"You really want to leave this hotel room tomorrow, go home to your cheating wife, and think about me for the rest of your life? Wishing it were me in your bed at night, the one you wake up to.." 

You lean down to his ear as you seductively whisper your next words. 

"The one you get to touch, kiss, and taste..?"

He lets out a soft moan as you lean in and whisper in his ear, causing a shiver to run through him as he pulls you even closer to him.

"You're good at this, you know..." His voice is deep and seductive, a playful grin on his face. "I think I'd rather stay with you, darling."

“You’d be stupid not to, Sir..” You lick over his ear, sending tremors through his body at the feeling.

Spencer lets out another soft moan, his body shuddering from the feeling of your tongue on his ear.  He leans back and watches you, a mischievous look in his eye as he's trying to see just how far you'll go.

"And what if I was stupid..?" His tone is still unserious, as if testing you, but he's starting to take charge of the situation now, pulling you closer with his arms and pressing you onto his lap as he leans in and gives you his own passionate kiss.

“You wouldn’t be in this hotel room with me on your lap right now if you were stupid, Sir.” Your hands go to lift the bottom of your dress, teasing him. “You know you made the right decision taking me..”

His eyes flash down to the bottom of your dress as you start to tease him, and his eyes flash back up to yours. He whispers his response in your ear, his voice starting to take on some of that familiar authority and intensity as you continue to tease him.

"Then why don't you help me make sure I never have reason to regret my decision, darling?"

Nodding, you take his large hand in yours and run it under the satiny fabric of your dress, allowing him to caress the soft skin of your hips and waist. As his hands touch your body, you go to finish unbuttoning the rest of his shirt.

He lets out a soft moan as his hand touches your hips, moving his hand up and down your body. Your skin feels so silky under his touch, he could touch you forever as long as you let him.

You can see his eyes looking over you, and he's making good use of every ounce of his self-control to keep from taking you here and now.

"You're not making this easy for me, you know...  But I suppose I'll let you continue." His voice is soft but there's still the ever-present hint of playfulness, and the hint of authority that he's starting to let bleed into the conversation.

“You want it off, Sir?” You let one of the straps of your dress fall from your shoulder, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.

The man bites his lip, letting out a low groan as you start to let your dress fall, and you can see the desire in his eyes is only growing.

"It's killing me, darling..." His tone is heavy with desire, and his expression is full of want. His eyes are glued to you, and you can tell that all he wants in the world at this moment is to have you, right now, right here.

“Take it off of me then, Sir. Earn your prize.” Your voice is low, teasing, and almost cocky. You’ve already taken him from his wife, and now all you wanted was for him to take control over you.

His eyes watch you with intensity as you speak, and he raises one eyebrow in amusement. "Make me work for it, is that it?  Well, I don't mind a bit of a challenge..." He bites his lip once more, and he lets out another low moan as he moves his hand to move your dress the rest of the way off your body.

His hands are moving slowly but purposefully, as if taking his time to admire every little piece of skin he revealed. He lets out a low shiver and a soft moan as he takes in the sight of you in your body, his hands trembling at the sight of you. You can almost feel the electricity fill the air between you as you let him admire every inch of you.

His hands are moving slowly but purposefully, as if taking his time to admire every little piece of skin he revealed. You bite your lip at the primal look in his eyes, and lift your arms when the dress reaches your chest. His eyes land on your bra, and the way it looks like it was made for you, filling the cups deliciously and fitting you absolutely perfectly.

"Why don't we make this a little easier for you, sweetheart."

Spencer practically rips the rest of your dress off your body then leans forward to you into a kiss again, pushing you down onto his lap against the firm bulge in his dress pants. He takes in the smell and sensation of you with that look of desire in his eyes that says everything. 

You let out a small huff when his eager hands practically rip the dress off of your body, but you lean further into the kiss as you moan into his mouth at the feeling of him under you.

He lets out a soft laugh at your noise of frustration, but the laugh dies in his throat as you moan into his mouth. He holds you there for a moment, his mouth moving eagerly and messily with yours, before he pulls away and pulls you closer by your waist to hold you to him. His heartbeat is pounding out of his chest as he presses your burning hot skin against him.

You can feel the heat in his eyes as he looks you over, his breath growing heavier as he gives you a look of pure, unbridled desire, his mind starting to fill with filthy arousal and lust. 

"Now.. I think I'd like to see what's under that bra first.."

He whispers, his tone still full of desire as he looks you over, as though he's trying to memorize every inch of you.

You don't move, just give him a look of bratty defiance.

"If you want it off, you'll have to take it off yourself."

Spencer laughs at your defiance, clearly enjoying your brattiness, and you can feel his chest rumble as he breathes in and out. His eyes start to travel down your body again, and he bites his lip in want. 

"So be it, darling."

There’s an edge of authority to his tone that says you may be in trouble if you continue to refuse. 

You’re willing to challenge that. 

You raise your brow at him and your tone is entirely too sassy towards a man who you know can ruin you and your body in an instant.

"Then get on with it."

You cross your arms over your chest.

He lets out a low chuckle and a sigh at your response, but he doesn't back down. He leans in and speaks in a soft voice, his eyes shining a bit with a light-hearted threat.

"Don't test me, sweetheart.”

His words are playful and his tone is full of desire but you know he's absolutely prepared to follow through on whatever threats he makes. Despite the threat you can see an amused smile on his face as he's watching to see what you do now.

He sighs but you can tell he's enjoying your defiance, his expression going to a smirk as he looks you up and down, watching you with a hungry eye as he drinks you in.

"I suppose this is what I get for letting a brat like you be my mistress..."

He lets out a soft laugh and gives you another taunting flash of his smile, his tone is suggestive once more and his fingers reach around your small frame to find the clasp of your bra. He’s starting to undo the hooks as his other hand begins to move down your body in anticipation for what will come.

“I’m not your mistress.. You don’t belong to her anymore, you’re mine.”

"Oh, is that so, darling?" His voice is full of amusement, and you can see the glint in his eye that says he's more than happy to play along with your bratty game.

"So what does my sweet little girl want from me, then?" His voice is low, looking at you with a mixture of amusement and lust. 

“What she wants is for you to hurry up and undress her." He pulls your bra off of you, and throws it over the arm of the couch, his eyes traveling from the bottom of your breasts back up to your eyes as a grin spreads across his face and he leans even closer to you.

"And what's she going to do if I take my sweet, sweet time?" His words are hushed and accompanied by a playful smirk as he raises his eyebrows at you and you can feel the burning desire in his touch as he moves his hand lower and lower. 

"Then she would ask very nicely for you to hurry up." You let out a soft laugh and try to not let his touch down your stomach and waist distract you.

He lets out a soft chuckle, his eyes shining with amusement as he moves his hands around your body. He's clearly enjoying the show, and he's in no hurry to take your clothes off, instead taking his sweet time getting there.

"And even if she asks very nicely,  what will I get in return? You have to bargain for these things, sweetheart, you know..”

His touch is gentle but insistent, as his hands move closer and closer to the waistline of your underwear.

"I'll give you whatever you want, Sir." Your body trembled with shivers at how light his touch was on you, almost like he wasn't even touching you as he inched closer and closer to your panties.

He lets out a soft chuckle at the answer, his hands continuing to move as they reach the waistline of your panties. 

"We'll see about that, darling..."

His voice is playful, but a little part of you feels the threat in his voice, too.  He clearly wants you very badly, and it's not entirely out of the realm of possibility that he's not completely joking.

Unexpectedly, Spencer reaches into a cabinet sat next to the couch, and rifles through it for a moment before pulling out scissors. Your eyes widen in confusion and disbelief, and the expression only intensifies when he slots the blades of the scissors between your hip and your panties, and snips. You'd almost swear his eyes are shining a little brighter as he drinks in the sight, being so impatient to take you that he’s cutting your underwear off your body.

“S-Sir..” 

You try to reason with him, but it’s far too late. He’s in his own little world as he continues to cut and snip at the delicate lace of your panties, not bothered by your words nor your noises of protest.

There’s nothing you can do but sit there, trembling in his lap as the look of determination and sadism shadows his face. The freezing metal of the blades against your skin do nothing to help your shaking, and it makes the very skin it presses against raise in goosebumps. 

Once he’s cut through the lace on both sides of your hips, he sets the scissors down on the table and pulls off the remnants of your underwear with ease. He’s got a sinister glint in his eyes and in his smile as he gathers them in his hand before setting them on the table next to the blades. 

“You know, she would’ve never let me do that.. But you..” Spencer laughs wickedly, it almost frightens you. “You.. You’d do anything to make me want you, wouldn’t you?” 

You find the bratty attitude you were sporting earlier fizzle into a blazing desire of obedience. Like you weren’t in control of your own body, you nodded. Your lack of speech made him laugh again. 

Suddenly, you’re wrapping your legs around his waist as he’s lifting you from the couch and into his arms. You cling to him like you’ve got no other choice, and can’t help but feel exposed in front of the large glass window. 

Spencer walks over to the large bed pushed against the wall and throws you down on it, and as you land, your legs are spread, as if on command. He bites his lip at the sight of you spread for him, cunt leaking arousal onto his bed sheets, sticky slick coating your beautiful thighs. 

You swallow and watch as he pushes the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his forearms, and runs a hand through his hair before kneeling down in front of you on the bed. He grabs under your thighs and hooks them around the tops of them, flashing that same teasing smile he’s been sporting all night. 

You let out a small yelp of surprise when he’s pulling you closer to the edge of the bed, so your pussy was pulsing right in his face, just the way he needed it to be. 

“This what you meant when you said ‘Just you wait?’, darling?”

His breath ghosts over your wet cunt, and it makes you let out a small sigh of pleasure. You don’t respond, you know he’s not looking for an answer, he’s just looking for a way to stroke his ego, knowing he’s got you right where you were so reluctant to get to. 

“What happened to that smart mouth of yours?” 

“Come fuck it and find out.”

Spencer huffs in amusement. 

“There you are..” 

Is all the warning you get before he’s diving in and burying his scruffy face between your thighs. Your legs threaten to close at the feeling, but he’s already a step ahead of you, holding them down in his strong grip as his tongue licks a long stripe up your cunt, collecting your essence. 

A loud moan is pushed out of your throat at the feeling, and your hand instinctively reaches out and down to grab at his messy hair. He only groans at the feeling though..

You’d have to explore that later.

But for now, you couldn’t focus on anything else except the way the thick, wet, muscle of his tongue was swirling around your sensitive clit, sucking and kissing at the nub. He was teasing you, you both knew if he kept this up, you’d be cumming on his face and around his tongue in no time, and you didn’t want that. 

You couldn’t embarrass yourself in front of him like that, especially when you know how much shit he’d give you for being able to make you finish that fast. 

And still, your head spins with each calculated and tortuous movement his tongue makes over your pussy. He moves down to slide his long tongue into you, finally. You whimper at the feeling and clench around him. 

Spencer eats at you like a starved man, and you’ve been pushed to believe that maybe he is. With the way he’s tongue fucking you.. making you gush on his lips and drip down his chin? You can tell he’s needed this for a while. 

You lift your head from the bed to look at him, and you can see he’s already staring daggers into you. He shoots you a wink and it almost makes you roll your eyes at his cockiness.  

“Why- oh fuck.. Why don’t you fuck me, sir? I know you want to..” You pant out and grip his hair harder, twisting it in your fist. It makes him moan into your cunt, and the vibration makes you gasp. 

He pulls back for a moment, and speaks quickly, like he’s been preparing his answer for a while now. 

“Because.. If I fuck you now I won’t be pulling out, can’t get you pregnant til’ I leave my wife, darling.” 

And you thought you had been the one to be moving fast. Your legs jolt and your pussy clenches at the thought of him fucking his cum into you, pushing it deeper and deeper into your womb until you’re full. 

The thought of him fucking a baby into you has you whimpering in a panicked frenzy, you were far too close.

“Fuck fuck fuck, sir.. I’m- I’m right there..”

You moan and are pulling at his hair now, it was no doubt painful, but he couldn’t let you know how much he liked it just yet. At your words, he nods from between your legs and his eyes flutter shut. 

The movements of his tongue in your and his lips on your folds increase in speed, intensity, and passion. He’s swallowing every spurt of arousal you have to offer him, and fucks you with his tongue quicker than you can even process. 

You reach a hand down to play with your clit, but just as quickly as he was fucking you, he just as quickly pulls away with a scornful expression pulling at his eyebrows. 

“W-Why’d you stop…? Please sir..” 

Spencer moves your hand from your clit and plants it back into his hair, making you grip at the root tightly as he lowers himself back onto you, and murmurs in a controlling voice. 

“Hands off, your body belongs to me, sweetheart.”  

And with that, he’s attaching his lips around your aching clit, and begins to suck at it like it’s his job. It makes you throw your head back in a silent moan, the pleasure robbing you of your ability to speak or make noises, and even think.

Your mind goes entirely blank at the feeling of him pulling the sensitive nub between his lips and using that stupid mouth of his to bring you to the edge all too fast. 

With a pornographic moan, you’re drenching his mouth and chin in your release, your thighs spasming in a desperate attempt to balance out the surge of pure unfiltered arousal that was forced out of you.

Spencer’s greedily swallowing every gush your cunt pumps into his awaiting mouth, and he just can’t seem to get enough. He’s moaning uncontrollably against your pussy as he drinks in everything you’ll give him, and if you weren’t absolutely losing your mind at your orgasm and spilling moans of your own, you’d be enjoying his noises a lot more. 

But now, it seems like your body and your release are the only things on both of your minds. You’re shaking, clenching your thighs around his head as your fist pulls so irresistibly at his brown locks. 

You’re the one to push him away, and you can’t help but laugh at the sound of absolute dissatisfaction he produces at being denied any more of your release. And you’d be more than content to let him at it, if you weren’t gasping for air and hopelessly shuddering at the after effects of no doubt the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever experienced. 

He’s suddenly laying by your side and pulling you into a desperate kiss, and you can feel the stickiness of his chin against yours as he eats away at your lips. It makes you pull back to chuckle and attempt to catch your breath again, and after a few beats of silence you look around at where half of your garments are torn and destroyed, and you look at him with a pout. 

"You ripped my dress.. And my underwear.."

Spencer laughs and rests his head back against the sheets, and you can see his chest rising and falling, he was quite breathless himself. 

"I'll buy you an entire new wardrobe, sweetheart, anything you want.." 

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #dom spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #dom spencer reid x reader #dom!spencer #dom!spencer reid

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Meet The Teacher - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley Bradshaw's re-entering civilian life with a new mission - teaching second grade.

a/n: thank you to @nerdgirljen for suggesting the idea with her breakdown of Bradley's military file, and thank you to @floydsmuse, @mamachasesmayhem, and @purelyfiction for reading this over for me last night 😅

pairing: teacher!Bradley Bradshaw x single mom!reader (last name is given to reader) warnings/content: mentions of trauma/injury, mentions of death/parent loss, Bradley pining for a student's mom, allusions to smut (masturbating (m)).

word count: 2.9k

taglist: @avengersfan25 @nouis-bum @sorchathered @hangmansgbaby @sarahsmi13s @jessicab1991 @atarmychick007 @b-bradshaw @djs8891 @primroseluna @silversprings-mp3 @drxgxnslxyer @gardenavenue @seitmai @unhinged-bitch @mattyskies

“You’ve got this, Bradshaw. You’ve got this. It’s just two dozen second graders. You’ve flown fighter jets and stared enemy aircraft in the eye, shot them down midair, you can handle a classroom of second graders.” 

Bradley repeated his mantra over and over in the rearview mirror of his car, taking a deep breath as he nodded his head. He adjusted the collar on his baby blue and white striped dress shirt, fingers tracing over the silver chain of his dog tags. His breath hitched in his throat as he ran his fingertip over the beaded chain, letting it out in a strained sigh. He was venturing into uncharted waters here, and he was beginning to wonder if he was in over his head. 

Six months ago, he was flying planes, one of the US Navy’s finest aviators. He’d never cared much about what he could have been doing if he hadn’t become a pilot - he’d known as long as he could remember that he wanted to fly. Since his accident though, he began to process all the things he’d let himself miss out on over the past 18 years. At 40 years old, he knew he was pushing his body to its limits, but he didn’t think he’d reached that threshold yet. 

He was wrong. 

It’d been a routine flight exercise, the kind he’d done about 40,000 times before in his career. His plane’s engine cut out, a mechanical failure beyond anyone’s control that couldn’t have been predicted. He kept his composure, pulled the ejection handle and parachuted his way to the ground below. In an ideal situation, he would have landed perfectly, safe and sound and taken to the hospital for observation but released the next day. 

Instead, he’d blown his knee out on his landing, making walking next to impossible, let alone flying. 

Presented with his options, returning to flying seemed unlikely. His knee would only likely get worse, and he realized, he sort of liked the idea of settling down someday — he knew forty was a little late in life to realize it, but damn it, he did want a family. He didn’t want to be that dad who couldn’t keep up with his kid. He wanted to be an active, fun parent like he’d remembered his mom being in her lifetime. He wanted to be able to dance with his new bride at his wedding, if it ever happened, and he couldn’t do any of that if his knee was fucked beyond repair. 

Dreams of coaching Little League and dancing around kitchens in the soft, yellow glow of overhead lights had suddenly flashed before him in his hospital room, and when the proposition of an honourable discharge came up, an offer absolving him of any guilt for abandoning his post in the pursuit of a civilian little fairytale life, he seized it. He loved flying, but he knew he couldn’t do it forever, despite his best efforts. He needed something to fall back on. And if these hopes and dreams suddenly crossing his mind — having a wife and a family, being a doting dad — were to come true, he needed to start somewhere.

Bradley always swore he’d never leave a wife and family behind. He’d seen what happened when a service member didn’t come home first hand - his dad was killed in a training incident when he was just over two years old, and he’d seen how his whole world turned on its side when it happened. Even as a toddler, he remembered a lot of crying from his mother, and suddenly noticing a huge absence in his life that couldn’t be explained. 

He didn’t understand what happened until he turned five, when he finally worked up the courage to ask his mom where his dad was. Why he left. Why he didn’t want to be home with Bradley. The moment he was old enough to decide his career path, he knew he wouldn’t be able to put a wife and children through the things he and his mom had been through. He was better off alone if he was serving. And it suited him just fine for the most part. The odd pang of jealousy when a colleague got married, the occasional feeling that he was missing out on something each time someone he knew announced the arrival of a new baby — they were easy enough to ignore when he focused his attention on his work.

Now, sitting in his parked car, an hour before the start of the school year, he was talking himself through how to survive his first day in his chosen back-up profession — teaching. 

He’d minored in education studies at university when he went. He’d promised his mother when he was applying to colleges that he’d pick a good back-up option to flying, just in case he didn’t get into the academy, and everyone knew he was great with kids. He’d often babysat for his mom’s friends, volunteered to coach softball teams and run summer camps at the community centre throughout high school. Teaching seemed like a no-brainer.

He let out a heavy sigh as he strolled into the school, his head held high, lesson plans tucked neatly in a file folder under his arm, his coffee cup in the other hand. He was ready to face the day, and whatever these seven-year-olds had to throw at him.

The day went on without a hitch, much to Bradley’s relief. Twenty-three little darlings sat in their desks, on their best behaviour for their first day of class. He knew it was unlikely that they’d continue to be so well-behaved, but he savoured it while it lasted. His co-workers seemed laidback and relaxed, friendly smiles and waves exchanged frequently in passing, words of advice and encouragement spoken at length over lunch and prep times. 

Three o’clock came faster than anticipated, and Bradley felt like he’d barely covered any of his plans for the day. At dismissal, he’d politely waved goodbye to each and every child, introducing himself to the parents he’d missed that morning at drop off, and greeting the ones he’d already met with brief updates about their child’s day. The last child to be picked up was a sweet little boy, with blonde hair and hazel eyes, freckles dotted across the bridge of his nose. Bradley’s brown eyes scanned over the attendance record in his hand. Wells Montgomery. 

At 3:10, Wells had grown bored of kicking his soccer ball around the grassy area around the side of the school. He picked his ball up under his arm and hurried back to Bradley. 

“Mr. Bradshaw, is my mom here yet?” 

“Not yet, bud. She’s probably stuck in traffic coming over the bridge into town. You know, it gets really busy around now. Do you want to come inside and read for a little bit in the classroom?” Bradley squinted, the sun shining brightly into his eyes as he scanned the parking lot for anyone who might be Wells’ mother. 

“Ok,” Wells said with a heavy sigh. Bradley furrowed his brow for a moment before looking back to Wells as the two of them headed back into the building. 

By 3:20, Bradley was beginning to worry about his new pupil. He didn’t anticipate a parent going missing-in-action on him on his first day of teaching, but faced with the possibility, he began going through the list of possible actions he could take. Just as he pondered over the idea of taking Wells down to the staff room to rummage the cupboards for a still-at-school-after-school snack, you came practically flying through the door, a panicked expression on your face, cheeks reddening when you saw Wells sitting at his desk, quietly reading. 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I got held up in a meeting until 2:45, and then traffic was a nightmare, everything was backed up and there’s only two ways onto the island but I couldn’t ditch my car to take the ferry over, I’m so sorry,” you apologized profusely, nodding your head as you looked from Wells, to the teacher seated in the desk and back again, unsure who you needed to apologize to more.

Bradley turned to face you, his eyes raking over you as he assessed the situation. Dressed in a fitted lilac coloured pencil skirt, white tank-top and matching lilac coloured blazer, you looked like something out of a dream to him. He’d never given much thought about what his type in women was before. He’d dated blondes, brunettes, redheads, the occasional girl with bright pink hair, curvy girls, petite girls, mid-sized girls - he never had much of a preference one way or the other as far as appearances went, but God, if he had to sum up his dream girl right now - you were it. 

“It’s alright, honestly,” Bradley nodded his head, smiling warmly at you in an effort to ease your concerns. “I’m Mr. Bradshaw, Wells’ teacher for second grade. He’s had a great day today, we were just about to head down to the staff room and see if there were any rogue granola bars hiding in the cupboard for him and I to share.”

“Thank you,” you nodded, your expression softening as Bradley spoke, an instant wave of relief washing over you. “You ready to go, Wellsy?” 

“Mom, please,” Wells whined, shaking his head as he grabbed his book and shoved it into his backpack. “She thinks I’m a baby,” he griped, turning to Bradley for a sympathetic smile.

“Moms, huh? Mine was the same way with me.” Bradley laughed softly, waving as you and Wells headed out.

Later that night, Bradley sat on his couch, settling in to watch a baseball game as he poured over the plans for the upcoming week. Cracking open his beer bottle, he sipped the drink, sighing tiredly as he read over the social studies plan, visiting the list of important historical figures he was expected to familiarize the class with over the course of the school year. With one hand, shakily written notes were made in a notebook, scribbling out ideas for fun ways to engage the kids with each important person he was required to introduce. 

Setting the beer down on a coaster, he exchanged it for a slice of greasy pizza, his reward for himself at the end of a successful first day of school. He shovelled it into his mouth, sighing as he watched the baseball game unfold. The Padres were down 3-7 in the bottom of the eighth, with not much hope left for them to pull through tonight. Bradley swallowed his mouthful, brushing the grease off his hands onto the leg of his grey sweatpants.

Bradley yawned, tired bleary eyes blinking as he padded down the hallway to his bedroom. He sighed softly and settled into bed, his mind wandering as his head rested on the pillow. Before he realized it, you were on his mind. He’d thought about you a lot that evening, brief intrusions of your smile flashing through his mind as he tried to plan out the upcoming week. 

This time though, as he laid there looking up at his ceiling, he thought about your apologies for being late, how it felt like you were pleading with him or Wells to not be upset with you. He thought about how your hair, although tousled from clearly running through parking lots to your car and to the school, framed your face perfectly, and how even in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the classroom, you managed to look nothing short of beautiful. 

He thought about how well the soft, purple hue of your skirt and blazer suited you, bringing out the glow of your skin and the colour of your eyes. He thought about how it hugged your curves as you left, hand in hand with Wells, the swish of your hips as you walked down the hallway. He thought about how he was pretty sure he didn’t see a wedding band on your finger, but also admonished himself for even checking. He couldn’t date a student’s parent. He knew better than that. 

But still, he couldn’t help but think about you. 

The next couple of weeks went by and Bradley’s interest in you grew fonder. He’d begun watching for you subtly at morning drop-offs and pick-ups, hoping to at least say hello once a day. On the last Friday of the month, you stopped him as he headed for his car, watching as Wells played on the playground equipment facing the parking lot.

“Mr. Bradshaw!” you called out, and Bradley couldn’t help but feel like you were making his name sound like a chorus of angels singing. 

“Hey, Mrs. Montgomery! Is everything ok?” Bradley asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Everything’s fine, yes,” you nodded, smiling as you gently corrected him about your name. You hadn’t been Mrs. Montgomery in two years, but, you couldn’t fault Bradley for slipping up, you knew the school secretary likely didn’t alert him ahead of time. You stifled a giggle as Bradley’s cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, now his turn to apologize profusely to you.

You waved a hand dismissively and smiled, turning to watch Wells play once again. 

“You know, it may have only been a few weeks, but Wells speaks very highly of you,” you started, nodding in confirmation as you watched him play, your gaze turning to land on Bradley for a moment, “He hasn’t been this interested in anything since his dad moved across the country.” 

“Oh? I’m glad I could help him enjoy school again. I try my best to keep things fun and exciting in the classroom — kids learn better when they’re excited and interested in something. No one has fun being read to from a textbook over and over again all day,” Bradley explained.

“Well, Mr. Bradshaw, you’re doing a really good job of it. He came home excited to tell me that he learned about George Washington yesterday. I’m pretty sure two days ago he had no idea who that was.”

“Please,” Bradley laughed softly, shaking his head, “You can call me Bradley. It’s less formal.”

“Bradley,” you repeated, nodding as you chuckled to yourself, “Bradley Bradshaw?”

“My dad had a sense of humour,” Bradley shrugged, looking out at the playground as Wells chased one of his friends around. “He’s a good kid, you know. Wells.”

“I know, I’m proud of how well he’s handling things now that his dad got relocated. Pensacola’s a lot further than he anticipated. He was hoping for Corpus Christi at least.”

Bradley’s ears piqued at the mention of Wells’ dad relocating. Pensacola and Corpus Christi both housed Naval Air bases, he was more than familiar with both of them. He’d only ever been stationed between Oceana, Miramar and North Island, but in his eighteen years of service, he’d met plenty of service members who hailed from one of the two bases originally. 

“Wells’ dad is a pilot?”

“Mhmm, well, mechanic, actually. He doesn’t fly them in combat,” you commented, raising an eyebrow at Bradley. “You seemed to guess that really well. Most people don’t guess pilot.”

“I used to be a Naval pilot, m’am,” he nodded, smiling proudly as he thought about his accomplished Naval career once again. “Lieutenant Commander Bradley Bradshaw, US Naval Air Force. I was stationed at NAS Oceana, transferred here to North Island, wrecked my knee, now I’m a teacher.” 

“That’s quite the pipeline into teaching, Lieutenant Commander.”

“Please, it’s Bradley. It’s nice not going by my rank, actually.” 

“Well, Bradley, I’d love to hear how exactly you landed on teaching second grade as a backup to flying F/A-18s for the United States Navy some day.” You nodded, hoping Bradley wouldn’t take offence to the suggestion of getting together at some point. Even if it was just as friends, you’d welcome it.

“That sounds like a good idea to me, actually. I’d love to.”

As Bradley headed to his car, he felt a little bounce in his step. He couldn’t help himself. Even if this just turned into a friendship and nothing more, he felt grateful that you wanted to spend time getting to know him better. 

His drive home was filled with more thoughts of you, thoughts of your pretty pastel coloured outfits you always seemed to favour, thoughts of your perfect smile, always beaming and cheerful, bright enough to brighten his entire day in a way that should make the sun jealous, thoughts of your hair, how it always looked so perfectly imperfect. 

In bed that night, Bradley thought about your legs, how they were long and lean, curving at your thigh. He thought about how good your ass looked in your skirt earlier today, how the material hugged it tightly. He thought about your thighs, how they looked so perfectly smooth and soft, how your plain white t-shirt that was tucked into your skirt did little to hide the swell of your breasts, and the way the curve of your neck looked irresistible, how badly he wanted to plant his lips on your skin and cover you in a trail of kisses. 

Bradley thought about you in a lot of ways that night. None of them were ways he was proud of. But as he stared up at the ceiling this time, you were the only thing on his mind. He didn’t know much about how he’d go about this newfound infatuation with you. All he knew was that if he was going to settle down with anyone, he was almost positive it would be with you. 

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x y/n #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x y/n

[ode2rin]

home is where you are

pairing. itoshi sae x gn!reader

genre. fluff | a bit of comfort (?) | established relationship | soft!sae (._.) 

content/warnings. 1.4k+ wc | characters are aged up ! | maybe slightly ooc | mentions of sae’s vague past | heavy in narration! | minimal proofread

in which: in the absence of your presence, one silent night compelled itoshi sae to confront his old acquaintance: loneliness.

sae itoshi is no stranger to loneliness. 

years of living alone in spain at such a young age have shaped him into someone gravely familiar with being alone. 

within the confines of his once-called home, sae often found solace in the echoes of his own footsteps. the rooms remained hushed, interrupted only by the distant sounds of the bustling city outside his window. he would spend countless evenings sitting by himself, silently munching on his first meal of the day.

and in those silent hours, sae's thoughts of the past became the loudest.

sae's solitude in spain back then was a self-imposed choice, driven by his unwavering dedication to his craft. loneliness became an inevitable companion, an unintended consequence of his pursuit of greatness. 

after all, to be the greatest demanded sacrifices, and sae willingly paid the price.

he was consumed by an unrelenting passion for soccer, a hunger to prove himself on the grandest stage. but as he poured his heart into training, he unwittingly built walls around himself, protecting his fragile ambitions but also isolating himself from anyone who might see a glimpse of his struggles to chase a dream that he’s yet to learn that wasn’t made for him.

and sae knew he stopped being a kid the moment he stepped foot on that plane to spain. 

what he doesn’t know, however, is that his choices will translate to living with gaps as an adult of what was once lost in the name of chasing a goal.

but he’s been alone for more than half of his living years, so there should be no surprise in how sae got used to this. being alone inside a hotel room in an unfamiliar country, miles away from home — it's a lifestyle he has grown accustomed to. it was all he had ever known since then.

until you came along and filled every gap within him that shared familiarity with loneliness of a love so kind.

now, the familiarity of you and him is the only peace he's ever known.

suddenly, there's nowhere he'd rather be than basking in the depths of your gentle eyes as he lays beside you. trailing his fingers around your cheekbones as you sleep soundly, planting tender kisses on your shoulders while both of you lazily lounge in the living room, making you  your favorite drink as you share the details of your day — it’s a lifestyle he has grown to treasure. it’s all that he’ll ever want to spend his days with. 

and if he could, he’ll be chasing flights just to be with you. 

but he can’t, and that reality stings.

“sae?”

the sound of your voice breaks through the silence of his reminiscence, pulling sae's attention back to the present.

“sae, are you still there?”

“yeah, i’m still here,” he responds, eyes focused on the screen that connects you to him. 

he's supposed to be used to this kind of lifestyle, yet now he finds himself staring at your face on this stupid screen, wondering what he’d give just to be by your side right now.

“is there something wrong?”

you're everywhere but beside him, that's what's wrong. 

and it doesn’t help that being away from you resurrects the same feelings he experienced during his teenage years.

but in true sae itoshi’s nature, he’ll settle with just a few words to let you know how bad he’s longing to be with you.

“i just miss you,” he confessed.

taken aback by his candid admission, you halt your cleaning and settle onto the couch, eager to hear him better.

always so attentive. 

your small gestures never ceased to bewilder sae. how could you love him this gentle when every part of him is devoid of such?

“i’m here. aren’t i, love?”

fuck it all. everything be damned already because he’s booking that flight first thing tomorrow morning.

he needs to see you. he needs to hold you. and the earlier that is fulfilled, the sooner this familiar ache of loneliness will leave the pit of his stomach. he despised it.

sae detests how intimately acquainted he is with this sensation. why wouldn't he? it’s a constant reminder of a youth he lost.

he took a deep breath, drawing strength from the trust you had established between you. you had encouraged him to be vulnerable, assuring him that his emotions were safe in your hands. you would never wield them against him as weapons.

emotions. they never fared well with him. but for you, he would try.

“talk to me. i'm here, sae,” you implore, your voice carrying understanding — a lifeline amidst his relentless yearning.

you’re not here.  

“you're not…” here. his voice quivers, the vulnerability seeping through the cracks of his guarded façade. “at least, not close enough.”

sae was sure of it. 

sure of how four years of being alone in spain will never come close to the madness of being a month away from you.

your face softened, mirroring the tenderness in your heart as his words reached you. 

the depths of sae itoshi's longing were laid bare before you, and you cherished this vulnerable side of him that he rarely showed. the unspoken connection between you spoke volumes, as no one knew him quite like you did.

“i know... just a little bit more. just three more days, right?” you reassured, your voice laced with affection.

his response held a hint of hesitation, a glimpse into the impatience that simmered beneath the surface. sae wasn't simply counting down the days; he was counting every hour, every minute until he could hold you in his arms once again.

“i think so,” he replied, though there was a hint of something unsaid in his voice. and you were right to sense it. to sae, it’s no longer three more days. he will see you the day after tomorrow, pronto.

“i can't wait to see you, sae,” you whispered through the screen of your phone. 

“so do i.” madly so.

a day earlier than his supposed arrival, sae found himself standing before the familiar door of your shared apartment, a large suitcase in hand.

not wasting another second, sae stepped over the threshold, his eyes scanning the familiar space that had become a sanctuary for both of you. the soft glow of the living room lights, the scent of your favorite candle wafting through the air — it all enveloped him in a sense of belonging.

finally, you emerged from the depths of your shared bedroom, your eyes meeting his as he turned to face you. 

a surge of emotions welled up inside you, threatening to spill over. unable to contain yourself any longer, you threw yourself into his waiting embrace.

god, how he longed for this. your presence, your warmth, your very essence — it never fails to chase away the remnants of loneliness that had plagued him for far too long.

as you gradually released your grip on sae's neck, your gaze fixated upon his face. "you're back early," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

he remained silent, his eyes locked unwaveringly with yours. in that intense gaze, it felt as if he were immersing himself. 

and he was, for your eyes materialized a home sae never knew could exist in his world.

one that isn’t decided on where the next best game is. one that isn’t filled with echoes of his own footsteps. one that he doesn’t frequently find himself sitting alone.

but a home that stays.

out of all the places sae itoshi had been to, this was where he only belonged, where his heart found its only place.

because perhaps home isn't a four-cornered place at all, but rather just a pair of warm eyes greeting him by the door whenever he announces he’s home. 

“welcome home, sae,” you uttered, your words accompanied by a soft smile.

sae, who had grown accustomed to the bitter company of loneliness, once believed he had found contentment in its embrace. 

yet, as he felt the warmth of your presence pressed against him, he realized that he never truly understood what it meant to belong until this very moment. 

the weight of your touch and the tenderness in your eyes shattered the illusion of solitude, leaving him yearning for a future where he would never again be acquainted with the desolate emptiness of his past.

with you, there was no other path he wished to tread, except to revel in this profound happiness that resided in the curve of your lips and the light in your eyes.

he could only hope to never be familiar with solitude ever again.

“yeah,” he murmured, his lips meeting yours in a sweet, lingering kiss. breaking away with a contented sigh, he smiled against your lips and softly uttered, “i'm finally home.”

note. i wrote this while listening to if these sheets were states by atl hehe | i also rightfully blame user @saetorinrin for sending me sad sae thoughts that compelled me to *cough* comfort him | i’m sorry this is shit but pls take it | this is my first long (well it’s more than 500 wc T_T which i normally do for him) of him bec the one i originally planned is now collecting dust in my drafts <3

#☁️ my ode to you #ACCEPT MY APOLOGY SAE LOVERS #I WON'T DO IT AGAIN #(i will) #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae #itoshi sae fluff #itoshi sae x y/n #blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #bllk x reader #bllk imagines #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi

[exactlycleverpirate]

ok but why do I feel like Rafayel likes being sub because after so many years of pinning and chasing he just wants to be wanted *runs away*

Agreed, agreed. Like, he can totally be dom, sure. And sometimes he's really in the mood for that. And if that's your preference, he is happy, delighted even, to obliged. But mostly, he just longs to know you want this as bad as he does. He craves being pursued for once. Wants you to choose him, not because he hounded you into it, but because you need him as badly as he's always needed you.

He values freedom, detests those who want to enslave him and his people, yet contradictorily is constantly seeking to bind himself to you. He is jaded about vows, thinks human promises are weak and fickle, and thinks broken promises are lies. And yet, still, he constantly asks for your vows, your promises, every little tidbit you will give him to bind yourself to him, something irreversible and permanent. To the point where he finds calling you Master a turn on, despite all the implications that are there for his people.

He won't force you into anything. He'll keep things light and playful so it's easy for you to back off if you choose to. But don't be deceived. His love is anything but light. It is consuming and desperate. But you don't need to know that.

You're in charge here. His heart is in your hands. And he is used to disappointment. He's even grown to like, in fact crave, the pain, the chase, the fall, the emptiness in its wake. Because what would the alternative be? To give you up? Never.

He has moments where he doubts, where he wonders if he should just end this agonizing pursuit. But the slightest show of interest from you, the smallest hint that you want him too, and he is off chasing that pain again, even while he thinks this won't end well. He is not a man who gets happy endings.

And yet here his is again, whining, pouting, playing the fool. He'll overcome his fear of cats to pet-sit that stray you got attached to. He'll press through the terror of that plane ride, because it worked better for your schedule, and he really wanted to show you that special moment in that far away place.

Because maybe, somehow, things will be different this time. Maybe, your clashing worlds won't come between you. Maybe his responsibilities, or the enemies around you, or all these forces trying to use and take advantage of both him and you, won't keep you apart this time. Maybe this time, you will be his bride, his wife, the one walking beside him through this long long life that sometimes seems so dull and pointless. Maybe you'll be the rain in his desert, the fire in his veins, hearts in lock step as you laugh and argue and tease and dance through life together.

#love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel #I have a lot of feelings about this man

[lanymme]

Think about how Saria spent years in betrayal and anger, driven for justice, searching out all of Rhine Lab’s wrongdoings, developing her philosophy on what science is for, all to right the course of the thing she build together with Kristen, who she dedicated her life to.

Kristen, the child of her idols. Kristen, her first love. Kristen, who she promised to protect.

Kristen, who betrayed her.

Kristen, who took advantage of her devotion.

Kristen, who designed a weapon against her, against the formula they came up with together.

Kristen, who is harming the very people they set out together to serve.

Kristen, who she’ll judge and bring back to the right path.

Kristen, who she never fully understood.

Kristen, whose plans she needs to stop. Kristen, who might bring the whole world tumbling down as she achieves her dream.

Kristen, who she slowly realizes is going to die in pursuit of her dream, just like her parents.

She tanks an anti-tank weapon to the head. She fights against an ancient caster and warrior. She fights the very people she trained, the knights that protect and serve Kristen. She saves her kid, finally. She learns to rely on others, to communicate. She reconciles with her partner. She flies a plane up, up into the upper atmosphere (just like the Wrights), through a combat zone, and docks it on a moving station. She learns to let go of her careful control of her every move, to act spontaneously, decisively.

All this to reach Kristen. To stop her.

But when she finally meets her… That’s her childhood friend. Her first love.

She fights her, endures her power, one last time, taking step by painful step toward her. She tells her she’s wrong about science, shares the philosophy and perspective she’s built over the years to stop her from harming people, to fight the culture that birthed them.

But really, she’s trying to talk Kristen down. You were wrong to do this. Give it up. Your dream is beautiful. Come with me. You finally achieved your parents’ dream. We can still survive this. I don’t doubt that this will affect the entire world. Watch it with me. I can still save you. The escape pods are gone? I’ll calcify us together—use the arts we developed together—and we’ll fall together; maybe we’ll survive, maybe we won’t. I’ll do everything I can, even if it’s doomed. Let me save you. Please. Please let me protect you.

And Kristen, who never lost faith in her, who knew Saria would reach her, who always wanted to share the truth, her moment of triumph, the fate she had chosen for herself with the woman she loves, who knew Saria would never leave her by choice and installed a trapdoor in her dreamer’s space pod so that she could live on… presses the button.

And Saria, after her long, long climb, falls. The final stage of the rocket to Kristen’s dream, falling away.

What must it be like, as she fell, to realize she spent her whole life helping Kristen assemble her space program? That when Kristen used to look up at the stars, she was not just seeing the past, her parents’ deaths, the legacy she has to uphold; she was seeing this future she had always planned for herself. That this was always the wish that Saria devoted herself to protecting.

And she kept her promise.

#i’ve been crying for like 18 hours now #and I’m not sure what I’m more worried about. #the possibility that I won’t stop. #or the possibility that I will. #i don’t know what to do with these feelings. #arknights #lone trail #kristen wright #saria

[lajadelmira]

✨Antares✨

A mysterious and enigmatic old wizard whose magic is intimately connected to the celestial realm. Throughout his life, Antares has fostered a profound affinity for the stars, drawing inspiration and power from the constellations that adorn the night sky. This deep connection is duly reflected in the intricate and potent spells he weaves.

Seeking solace and solitude in his pursuit of cosmic knowledge, Antares retreats to the solitude of one of the highest towers in Archimorter's castle. Within its walls, he spends countless hours engrossed in ancient tomes and scrolls, delving into the secrets of the universe. With each passing day, his understanding of the cosmos deepens, and he becomes a wellspring of astronomical wisdom.

His dedication to the study of the cosmic plane has bestowed upon him a unique gift, the occasional ability to glimpse fragments of the future in his dreams. However, interpreting these prophetic visions is a daunting task, for the arcane symbols and enigmatic flashes of insight often elude him. Though he yearns to unravel the future's mysteries, Antares is acutely aware of the fallibility of his interpretations.

Antares is known for his unpredictable temperament and aloof nature, which further isolates him from the world around him. His moody disposition, coupled with a tendency towards meanness, serves to repel those who would interrupt his studies or waste his precious time. He lashes out with sharp insults, rebuffing the efforts of anyone who dares to disrupt his solitary pursuit of knowledge.

The wizard's preference for solitude is driven by a deep-seated fear that those who grow close to him could be manipulated or used against him. Scarred by past betrayals, Antares guards his heart and distances himself from emotional attachments. He remains acutely aware of the vulnerability that comes with intimacy, choosing instead to keep the company of the celestial bodies that illuminate his nights.

With his inscrutable demeanor and unwavering dedication to his craft, Antares stands as a formidable figure within the wizarding community. Yet, beneath the gruff exterior, there lies a spark of curiosity and a yearning for connection, waiting to be kindled by those who prove themselves worthy of his trust.

#my art #character design #oc #artists on tumblr #sketch #humanoid #original character #my oc #terato #monster fucker #Humanoid #Humanoide #monster lovers #creature design #mythical creatures #demon #wizard #art

[peoplesgraves]

SUCCUBUS READER AND DRACULAURA SUCCUBUS READER AND DRACULAURA SUCCUBUS READER AND DRACULAURA

...please 🩷

Yandere Draculaura X Succubus Reader Headcanons

•Draculaura is nothing if not a hopeless romantic. She’s spent lifetimes reading romance novels and watching cheesy romantic movies. In the past she’d always imagined that she’d be the one swept off her feet, the ultimate object of love but lately thing had changed. When she pictured herself in the throes of true love she was no longer the lamb, no longer soft and sweet. Now she was the wolf, viscous and bloody In it’s pursuit of the lamb, in its pursuit of its love.

•Draculaura is always by your side always clinging to your arms and peppering you with questions. An equal mix of silly small talk and darkly serious interrogation. She wants to know everything about you and desperately wishes to be as close to you as possible. If she could merge the two of you into one being she would, whenever the two of you aren’t together she feels like half of her is gone.

•She has no boundaries when it comes to the two of you. She’ll show up at your house and pout and cry and push until you have no choice but to hole up with her for the weekend. When school breaks come up she always just includes you in her plans. Buying you a plane ticket and acting so excited that you feel too guilty to guilty not to come along with her. Don’t worry though, Draculaura is sure you’ll love the trip she has planned. After all no one knows you as well as her.

•She loves wearing your clothes. She’ll just walk into school one day wearing your shirt as if it’s totally normal. When you question her she just smiles and says she borrowed it during your last sleepover. She really didn’t think you’d mind and plus doesn’t she look so cute? She’ll make it up to you by wrapping the ribbons she typically wears around your horns or giving you her favorite nail polish. Now you’re both wearing something from the other and Draculaura couldn’t be happier about it.

•Draculaura is deceptively strong and has no qualms about carrying you around. You can whine about how you’re actually a terrifying demon and she’s too small to be carrying you through the halls but she’ll hear none of it. You’re her baby and everyone should know it. That’s not to say that she has any qualms about acting her size, pouting until you hell her get things from a high shelf or complaining her new shoes hurt so you’ll carry her for once.

•She definitely has some kind of wedding album or dream book about the two of you. She’ll plan your whole, eternal lives together in incredible detail. While the girl may have a lot of dreams and ideas for your life together she’s actually pretty open to follow your lead. As long as the two of you are together forever she doesn’t mind compromising on the rest. Sure a giant lavish wedding sounds fun but if you’d rather it be just the two of you and a few close friends then she’d be happy with that too, as long as the end Draculaura gets to put a ring in your finger.

#yandere monster high #yandere draculara #yandere Draculaura #yandere mh #yandere monster #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere cartoon #yandere vampire

[tomlinfonda]

"Why are artists so butthurt about AI art? Horse carriage drivers didn't complain when they invented the car, they were just grateful that the technology evolved and made it easier to get around."

Art is not a carriage, it's not a vehicle. Its purpose is not to be efficient, to do a practical job with as little effort as possible. Art is not something that can be automated, because its artistry lies in the humanity of its creator. Art is wonderful, from a baby's first drawing, inexperienced and unskilled, to the paintings adorning the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

If you consider yourself an AI artist, I ask you: are you proud of yourself when the computer has completed another image that you will claim as yours? Do you look at it and feel the joy of having created something?

Does the generative process teach you how to see the world better? With every image created, do you evolve? Do you understand the planes of the face better now than 1000 images ago? Do you know what rim light is, and where to put it? Do you understand light sources? Tones? Could you take a piece of paper and shade a portrait by yourself?

"AI software is just like Photoshop or Blender, the next step in artistic technology".

It's not though, is it? A digital artist uses a pen to put colors on screen, chooses where to put each brush stroke, when to smudge or use the liquify tool. A 3D sculptor manipulates basic shapes into characters just like a traditional artist molds clay. An AI "artist" doesn't make any of the thousands of choices that lead to the creation of a real piece of art.

"But art is hard, and I'm not good enough."

Neither am I! Man, I'm not the worst artist in the world, but I'm not great, still not at the level I would like to be. Sometimes I draw something and I look at it and realize that it sucks ass! Sometimes I post a drawing online and realize that I drew a character out of proportion, that the light source is not consistent, that I've shaded outside the lines! And you know what's great? That I get to have an understanding of what I did wrong! I get to evolve! I redraw something from 5 years ago and realize that my composition is much better, my shading more believable. And I know that in 5 more years, I might redraw it again and pride myself in how much I've evolved.

I've been drawing since I was a baby, and I still have a long way to go. And that is also fine, because art is a lifelong pursuit, growing, changing, just as I am.

It's okay to not be good. Hell, it's okay if you don't even try to get better. By drawing, you WILL. It's inevitable that, by practicing, you'll learn.

You know what will not make you a better artist? Software that will generate your "art" for you. The result might look more complex than what your skill level allows you to create right now. But it doesn't look better. You could draw a crooked circle on xerox paper and it will look better than all the AI art in the world. Because you made it. Have some faith in yourself. Your vision has more artistic value than what that computer generated.

"If you're afraid that AI will steal your job, learn to draw better!"

I'm trying. Are you?

#anti ai art #ai art is not art #ai art is stolen art #ai art is theft

[justoswald]

i had to finish him.. finish both of them

to broghan, im sorry, my best friend. you were like family to me, and i know that deep down, you felt the same in the end. deep down, in your distortions, you knew. that's what i want to believe. the broghan i knew died a long time ago. it wasn't today, or yesterday, but somewhere along the way he died. i'm sorry it had to end this way, if i could apologize to your family in-person then i would. but i can't. so i'm making this post to give closure, to both myself and to those who loved and cared about broghan. i'm well aware of the audience he had. they deserve closure too. this is a confession. broghan is dead. i shot him. whatever spiritual beliefs he held are irrelevant. he's dead. no astral plane bullshit is going to bring him back. my soul is bared to this site, and this post is the most genuine one i'll make. i do not ask for forgiveness of my actions, but to please, please forgive broghan.

to venti, i'm not sorry. the abuse i endured, the trials and tribulations you forced me to undergo.. you had this coming. you were never my friend. not once. you believe in a god, but i know your soul is hollow, that of a husk. that cracked shell will burn away in the flames of hell. may you burn in the inferno, with no hope for redemption. i'm no saint either. should we meet again in hell, i will ensure your wicked self will find no rest or respite.

and to the people that have followed along, im sorry. i see your asks, the messages. i sincerely apologize for only following back a few and replying to only a select few messages. i made my tumblr to make friends and engage in my interests, but it seems i failed at that. may you all find happiness.

it's always winter in alaska, but the oppressive rays of the sun bear down on me. it's so cold, but so bright. nutrients, vitamins, the sun is the apex of life, its guiding light the crux of all that lives on earth. tomorrow will come, and no one is the same as they were yesterday. i've always been a recluse, the facade i put up being that of a clown that wishes to bring happiness and hectic chaos in the pursuit of attaining a higher self.. but after everything that's happened to me, im ready for a new day. a new me. i'll open myself to the gentle indifference of the world. i know as well as anyone that after a while one could get used to anything.

-Oswald. justoswald.

[rogersruinedmylife]

Neil didn't think twice about what he had done, but he did think about Jean and the way he had looked at him as he made his way back home.

Home.

A word he had never had before Andrew had pressed a key into his hand and asked him to stay.

Even now, on the plane, Neil dug the key into his palm and reminded himself of who he was, of who he had become. He reminded himself that Neil Josten was a real person with a family to come home to and people that cared about him for more than who his parents were or what his value was worth on a court.

Home meant Andrew and his quiet, fierce, protectiveness and warmth that Neil craved in way he didn't fully understand yet. It was Kevin and his relentless pursuit of greatness. His belief that Neil could be more than either of them had ever dreamed they could be.

Home was where Neil could breath without a weight on his chest, and without that itch in his bones that encouraged him to abando everything he used become for the past that he had left behind.

As he relaxed back onto his seat, eyes on his watch counting down the minutes until he was back where he belonged, Neil thought of Jean.

He thought of the broken man that resembled his past self in ways Neil didn't have the emotional capability to consider right now. He thought of the haunted look in his eyes and the rage that had simmered under his skin when Jean had given him truths and insights that Neil didn't deserve.

He thought of the boy who deserved to be able to live and make choices for himself in the way that Neil had been allowed to over the last year since he had accepted Andrew's request to stay.

He thought of Jeremy Knox and the way he had blindingly accepted Jean the way the Foxes had accepted him, and for the first time since he was a child, Neil hoped.

He hoped that Jean found his home among the Sunshine Court the way Neil had found his Foxes when he had needed them the most.

#aftg #tsc #all for the game #the sunshine court #neil josten #jean moreau #kevin day #andrew minyard #andrew/neil #andreil #jean/jeremy #jerejean